Anorexia, myself & I – Day 324

So many times over the last couple of years I thought I had hit ‘rock bottom’. 

I now know that all those other ‘moments’ were just the warm-up, the precursor to what was to come. This week I really have hit rock bottom, there is nowhere else to go!

I have chosen not to share much about my relationship in my blogs, it was just too personal and to be honest some things in life (even though Facebook seems to prove otherwise) need to be kept separate and when there someone else involved you need to respect their feelings too.

However, today I need to share! I am not sharing to give anyone a ‘guilt’ trip; believe me, all of this is of my own making and another serious part of what a mental illness can do to the people around you.

I, my dear readers have a broken heart. I have lost my best friend, my soul mate and the one person I wanted to grow old with. The person who nursed me through tears laughed at my quirks and wholeheartedly devoted the last 16 years to me.

A broken heart cannot be described. My chest feels tight, my heart feels empty and it literally aches. I struggle to catch my breath, I cannot sleep, I replay conversations over and over in my mind. I cry, I get angry, I feel frustrated and then the process repeats itself all over again.

Dealing with a mental illness and a broken heart is a double whammy! When one gives up for a while, the other is there waiting to have its turn on the f&cked up thinking merry go round.

My illness pushed everyone away; convinced me I did not need anyone, convinced me I was not deserving of other peoples love and convinced me someone could only be with me through sympathy. 

Last night I nearly succumbed to some dark thoughts, only rescued by someone putting in a concerned phone call and my mum turning up on my doorstep.

She found me sat there in ‘saggy assed’ PJ’s, frizzy hair, swollen cry face and a top totally covered in tear stains. My mum just hugged me. I cried and cried and cried until my ribs hurt. 

Scared by what could have happened if she had not arrived, scared at my own selfish thoughts, scared by the realisation of where I am. 37 years old, living in no more than a prison cell, single and broken hearted.

Today I woke up early for a blood test appointment and realised something! I have nowhere else to go but UP. I mean it. 

I am worth more than self-pity and wallowing in my mental illness.

I will win back the hearts of people around me, I will LOVE life again and learn to live with reckless abandon.

Christmas is my target to reformation; I am not making any great statements or putting pressure on myself, but my goal is to be on the road to a strong and clear recovery path by Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Eve, wherever I am in the country or world, I will sit back with a glass of something naughty and toast myself. I will toast myself for everything I have achieved, for the illness I am fighting and I will toast to the hearts I would have (hopefully) won back!

I chose to celebrate this revelation today by buying myself a beautiful red winter coat. It’s the little things that need to be celebrated and even if I am just celebrating a thought, my red coat will be my daily reminder of the fight I am going to embrace and WIN.

Money cannot buy me happiness, but it can buy me an awesome RED COAT. 

PS I have eaten two new foods today……and dare I say it….totally f&ckin enjoyed every bite.

PPS My dearest soul-mate, my best friend, my strength….from the bottom of my broken heart, I am sorry.

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