A is for ....

A is for Award. And this one was given to me by the lovely Paula Rodriguez at paulawannacracker. Hurray!!! (And I finally learnt how to link! )

Paula is looking great after losing 30lbs so far and working hard on improving her eating at the moment. Her's is an honest blog - trying to be careful with what you eat is not easy, especially with a large family to entertain. I think Paula is often too hard on herself because she's actually doing an amazing job. Cheer her on if you're not already.

A is for Appreciation. If you appreciate great writing then you will love Green Stone Woman's new Writing Blog. Her writing is quite exceptional. Check out "Rituals" posted on Oct 28th. Paragraphs 3 and 4 particularly put me in mind of Ted Hughes' "Lovesong". See what you think. She has also set up a new Art Blog where you seriously want to check out those sculptures. My favourite is Bog Woman, but The Frog is pretty amazing too. Of course Nora continues to write her daily journaling blog too. In her post this morning, her wish was that people would follow her new writing blog, so let's wave the magic wand and make her wish come true.

A is also for Anger and Appropriate. As in, Is anger an appropriate response to someone else's pain? I have read several bloggers writing about the anger they feel when someone else is depressed. Especially if the pain is so severe the person actually feels suicidal. Apparently a suicidal person is particularly deserving of these people's anger and disgust. Yes, the word disgust has been used in this context. One blogger actually wrote that she was "offended" by other people's pain. Offended???? WTF??? And these people call themselves Christians?

Can anger and disgust ever be appropriate responses to other people's pain?

For example, if you are very overweight you have possibly at some time been on the receiving end of someone else's anger over this issue. It may have been your parents, your partner, even a complete stranger in the street. Did you find this remotely appropriate? Remotely helpful? Chances are you found someone else's anger directed at you a crushing experience. At the very least it's highly unpleasant that someone else seeks to increase your pain over this issue. Why would they do that? Does it make sense? Does it achieve anything?

Why do some people feel intense anger when someone says openly that they are depressed? Or suicidal? What does that anger signify? There could be various factors at play here, but the most obvious candidate is denial. Denial of their own pain. To some people, admitting that they have such negative emotions is too frightening for them. They want to stuff those feelings down. Pretend they don't exist. Those feelings are linked with feelings of their own inadequacy and lack of self esteem. Some people prefer to block this stuff out of their mind. It gives them a feeling of superiority, after all, that they have been able to "overcome" (supposedly) the causes of their pain, and not "give in" to those feelings.

Why do overweight people in particular often bear the brunt of other people's inappropriate anger? Well, as we know, excess weight is often pain made highly visible. Unlike alcoholism, or drug taking for example, which are not immediately apparent when the person walks down the street, the compulsive eater's pain is there for all the world to see at all times.

So people are trying to distance themselves from their own pain when they look down on someone else who is obviously in pain. And an inadequate ego will always get a boost from feeling superior to other people of course.

I remember when I did a creative therapy class some years ago, and before the first session when we were all in the reception area waiting to go in, a woman in the group proclaimed very loudly that "People think that to come here there must be something wrong with you". And she went on to explain (to her highly embarrassed listener) that there was nothing wrong with her. Of course not. Like she was just there for the craic.

Fact is that everyone attending that group had been diagnosed with depression.

She told me in no uncertain terms that she was not depressed. And evidently felt that because of this she was rather superior to the rest of us. She was not mentally ill. She was not one of us. She then proceeded to paint a very large piece of paper entirely in very dark grey and black. Yeah, I thought, you're so not depressed.

Being British, no-one in the group mentioned it. Every time this poor deluded woman dropped another clanger (supposedly demonstrating her own psychological superiority to the rest of us) there was much raising of eye brows, shaking of heads and knowing smiles exchanged.

Thing is, this woman was the most depressed person in the group by a very long chalk. Her desperate attempts to bolster her own flagging ego only signalled the enormous hole she was in emotionally.

For the other members of the group, treating this woman as a figure of fun (in their own heads) served to stop them (to some extent) being hurt from the message that this woman was transmitting ie you are worth less as a human being if you are depressed, if you suffer from mental illness, if you are in psychological pain. We tried to insulate ourselves from her opinion that we were unacceptable and weak; less than "normal" people. We tried not to allow her to increase our pain.

This woman's feelings of disgust towards herself could have had a very destructive effect on other people. And possibly did in other situations.

Her unfortunate, hurtful behaviour towards us was really to do with her feelings about herself. Ie feeling that she was worthless, unacceptable and "less than" other people.

Appropriate responses to other people's pain are things like empathy, offering comfort, understanding, making suggestions to ease the situation, telling a story from your own experience of how you dealt with something similar, or simply listening (or reading).

Inappropriate responses are anger, disgust, feelings of superiority. These responses say a lot about the person feeling them and zip all about the person they are aimed at.

OK. I finished ranting now. Me, angry??!! That would be so inappropriate ....


In other news, The Bear has been suddenly demanding my attention after virtually no contact for quite a while. I have seen him every day the last three days. And we have had a lovely walk each evening. I also went on a walk on Monday evening on my own.

I was surprised that he was in quite good shape psychologically despite a bit of a crisis - which required my help and support. I really have loved spending a bit of time with him. Spending time with him helps me be more accepting of myself, because he accepts me totally and unconditionally. He is the only person in the real world I trust (I say in the real world because obviously I trust you lot).

My eating - rubbish. All rubbish. Massive eating every day. But at least my exercise levels have improved. And that is really necessary considering I will be walking a very large steep hill to see my healer on Monday.

I am feeling a little better in myself. Your comments have been very supportive and helpful. Between you lot and The Bear and my healer, I hope to crawl out into the light any time soon ...

Thank you.

"Toxic brain dump"

Leslie (of Something Brilliant is Brewing), "toxic brain dump"? I'll give you toxic brain dump! It doesn't get more toxic than the stuff here, so if you're feeling bad already, then please DON'T READ IT. I wrote it yesterday as just an outpouring and didn't dare post it because it's just C*R*A*P in the sense of crap going round in my brain. But it's also my life story of the the last decade. It's an example of the thinking and thought processes of a depressed person - hence all the repetition. But this doesn't mean there's tons of distortion there. It is actually the truth. This is me.

The X referred to lower down was a man I met and fell in love with before my breakdown in 2000. The failure of that relationship was a major factor in the breakdown.

I've thought recently that I had reached a place of acceptance of my illness but I see from reading this that that is not really the case. I am just in a terminal quiet despair over it.

I apologise in advance for what you are about to read. SORRY.

***

What is bingeing about? For me it's a stepping out of reality. When I binge the calorie content doesn't matter. I can consume vast amounts and there are no consequences for that. Of course there are consequences - but at the time of buying and consumption in my head there are no consequences.

Why do I need to step out of reality? Because reality is too shit. My reality is horrible. My life is a big nothing. A big stressful nothing. I am nothing. Nothing except a failure. A permanent mental health patient who can't hold it together for any length of time. Stuck in inadequate accommodation. No way of ever earning any money ever again. No marriage or kids. No job. No home of my own. My circumstances are grim indeed and it will only get worse as I get older. Because I am under 40 I still have a sliver of hope that any of these things may yet happen. But get past 40 and none of those things will ever happen. That's why I don't think I will live far beyond 40. Because I'll have no hope then. So time is running out for me on this earth.

And yet I spend my days wasting them away with bingeing and not leaving the house. If you had only a short amount of time left on this earth - less than 5 years I am certain - if you were given less than 5 years to live what would you do with the time? Chuck the diet in that's for sure! What else? Travel the world? Spend the time achieving something you always wanted to do before it's too late? I'm sure you'd have a list. I don't have anything I want to do or achieve before I die. That's how unconnected with life I've become. I am like an amoeba. Brainless and intellectually and emotionally numb. A big blob of nothing.

And bingeing is just reflecting or covering up the pain.

The only things I do in life are binge for a while and then diet for a while. I feel like that is all I've done for the last few years. Trapped in this endless cycle.

Of course, when I'm dieting and improving my health and fitness I feel like I'm on an "up", however painful and miserable it is - and the process does cause me to cry a lot. But at least I'm doing something to improve my situation. At least I have a goal, an aim in life. A reason to exist - even if it is only to lose weight. My life is planned around that - food that I'm eating, when I eat, cooking the food. The exercise - walking takes up a lot of time. It feels virtuous. It feels like I'm doing some good. And of course it's undeniable that it's better to be out walking than sat at home. It's better to eat veg and feel healthy than to be stuffing endless amounts of rubbish down myself and feel terrible.

But basically, overall, what am I achieving with my life? If I cut out the bingeing and subsequent necessary dieting, what then? What would be left then?

I have no other achievable goals. I'd like to get a job, but my levels of anxiety and depression make that impossible. I'd like to have got married and had kids but I've never met anyone and have few opportunities to do that now. And who would have me now? I'm a dead loss. I can't earn any money. And in this country at least, no man wants a woman who can't earn money. I tried internet dating but the only men I met were complete non-starters. If they weren't complete non-starters they'd be able to get a girlfriend. And if I weren't complete non-starter I'd be able to get a boyfriend.

I'd like to live somewhere nice but I can't afford it so I'm trapped here.

I can't see anything else I could achieve or do with my life apart from this horrid cycle.

Everyone needs to feel they can achieve something, that there is a reason for them to exist. Many people suffering severe totally incapacitating mental illness which they know is never going to end - like schizophrenia or bi-polar disorder - see the battle for psychological survival in itself as the meaning of their existence. And I did myself for the first year after my first breakdown. Because just to survive that year for me, when I was in such mental chaos and there was no help for me in terms of tablets or a diagnosis that pointed to a specific treatment (my diagnosis has only ever been "depressed after a breakdown"), was an achievement in itself. Every day was an achievement just to get through it. But since then I have got used to this hell. I am not in mental chaos anymore. Just total despair. I exist between this and numbness, because generally it's too upsetting to think about the reality of my situation, all the things I can't have and can't achieve any more. In fact the only good times in the time since my breakdown, almost 9 years ago, are when my eating has been very much under strict control, often (though not always) combined with a rigorous walking regime. And the worst times have been when my eating is completely out of control. They have been desperate despairing suicidal times. BUT in the last two years I'm pretty much desperate, despairing and suicidal all the time. Because I know that time has run out for me.

The only difference now between being fat or not is that when fat I have no confidence at all when I'm out of doors. When thinner it's still a huge struggle to get outdoors, but when there I am more confident. Still stressed, but more confident than when fat. And that's it. Oh yes, I have that sense of achievement when I lose the weight. But it's not real achievement of anything that will actually make a whole load of difference in my life. Yes, being more confident would improve my life a little bit. But how much time do I spend outdoors anyway? At this stage in my life and in my illness, which I believe to be terminal, is it really going to make any difference?

The next important age in my life is going to be 42. I assume this to be the age when I will kill myself. I know what ages are important. I knew since at least the age of 10 or 11 that 28 was a fundamental, important age in my life. I actually thought I would die at that age. And in a way I did - I had a breadown and the me I was before, the competant me that could achieve anything in life if she put her mind to it, died. And I wish I had completely died, because there has certainly has been no reason for me to be alive since then. Since then I have been no more than a shit machine. Next age I knew was important was 36. I thought maybe I was going to have a baby at 36. I really thought that. I didn't know that age was important because I was going to have another breakdown which left me feeling like I would never be intimate with another human being ever again. And also took away any desire for that. And in practical terms I could never have children now because no-one will ever marry me and I would never be able to pay for the support I would need to look after a baby. I mean I can barely look after myself. I wouldn't make someone a good mother. And I feel too old and tired already to do it now. It takes great energy and positivity to do that. I am exhausted from what life has already thrown at me.

But for all I know it could be another breakdown waiting for me at 42. I have no expectation of anything else. Why expect anything else. 28 was certainly a symbolic death. I wish 36 had been a symbolic rebirth. But sadly not. Sadly it has just given rise to endless despair. A sort of emotional flatness borne of trying not to think about things too deeply, or at all, because it just leads to suicidal thoughts. But if you can never address the issues then you can never find a way forward. But I've tried so many times to address them and find a way forward and failed. That is why I've given up. For some people there is no solution.

So what is there left? Making sure I wear a size 8 shroud in my coffin? That feels like the only thing I have left to aim for now.

I am so without hope. But this is not just a lack of hope due to depression and stinking thinking. This is real evidence based lack of hope. I can't see the point in anything anymore.

I've been round that diet trail so many times and it's led nowhere. A feeling of "moving forward" with my life which is actually false. Just another turn of the wheel. Another part of the cycle.

I feel trapped and there's no way out. Not that there's no way out of my weight problems. But that there's no way out of my mental health situation. The weight problem is just a manifestation of that. It has no real importantance at all.

And why am I mentally ill? I can't cope with relationships with other people. It could be argued I don't get to meet many other people to have relationships with. But I had a breakdown in the first place because I was so isolated. I became so isolated because contact with other people seemed too painful. And it still is. Because of the sh*t I feel about myself that I project into other people's minds. Always thinking they think ill of me. And this is not weight dependant. And not dependant on my mental illness. Though neither of these things help of course. They're just things to hang other people's disapproval of me on. I felt that way before the breakdown and when I was thin. I have always felt that way. That I am not worth it. Not worth anything in fact. And there seems no way to change this.

How could I ever become a worthwhile human being? I can't do a job and contribute to the community in that way. I can't be a mother and contribute to society in that way. I know you may say I make a contribution in blogland. But I don't have it in me to write on my blog every day ie to really make it a big thing in my life. To be an inspiration to other people like Diane fit to the finish, or to give people things to think about like Lyn of esccape from obesity. I just don't have it in me.

That's the worst thing of all about having a breakdown. Losing the ability to write. Before it was my raison d'etre. Now I struggle to squeeze a few words out every 3 or 4 days. Really, I find it so difficult. I find I have little of interest to say. I'm bored with myself and my braindeadedness.

Self hatred welling up again.

It doesn't seem like anything I can do would count in the real world. I could do art classes. But it would only be for me. Not for a career or anything I could sell or make a life for myself from. I could study some more, but I'm unable permanently to do a job so what's the point? Just for the sake of it?

I can't anymore cling to anything that's false. And further study would just be false because it's not leading anywhere.

I have tried so many times to work something out, to sort out my life, to find a way of moving forward. And every time I'm buggered because I can't work. That's what it comes down to in the end. I can't actually take part in real life. Not that I don't value all the contacts and support I've found on line. Of course I do. But I have no possibilities in real life and that is the problem. No solutions. And I've needed a solution for the longest possible period of time.

Desperate and suicidal yet again and feeling in need of a binge. So sad that my life is like this. It's been this way ever since X left. I should have killed myself then and avoided all this pain. My life has indeed been fucked up by falling in love with the wrong man. And there is now no way of undoing the damage. It's been too long. There is no way back from here.

***

I should point out that I am not suicidal at the moment. I'll make a deal with you, dear reader, if I'm going to do it, I'll let you know first. I think that's only fair. And then you won't be worrying about me unnecessarily.

More rubbish

This is difficult to write. I am making myself post tonight even though I really don't want to. But when you're blogging you have to keep going. I feel bad if I don't post!
And I feel I haven't been posting half enough. I must get myself into the discipline of posting most days even when I don't feel up to doing anything. In my defence I will say that I spend quite a lot of time commenting on other people's blogs.

I haven't been making myself do very much for most of this week. Tuesday was a bad stressful day. It started with hardly any sleep followed by a lot of itching on waking as the stress hormones were raging. I had to take an anithistamine asap. I find myself being very reactive these days. Much more than I used to be. Quite small things set me off.

After having porridge, I got out early and walked along the river to get to the other side to go to the health shop for the stuff I need to dye my hair. I have needed to get this stuff for weeks - I have well over an inch of grey roots showing. The walk along the river itself was quite nice. But after I'd been to said shop and called in at Boots I started to feel really unwell. A combination of lack of sleep, my nerves, and the tiredness brought on by antihistamines. I had to sit down on a bench for a while.

I walked back along the river and went home and did my laundry. I didn't even manage to feel good about myself for having done that walk.

On Wednesday and Thursday I did nothing. Nothing except eat too much - low fat carbs, fruit, milk, low cal yoghurt, low cal sandwiches.

It's like I've given up on myself really. That my life has reduced to sitting in this chair in front of the TV while surfing on my laptop or eating. I have hardly done anything else in weeks and weeks.

Part of me thinks "Why bother?" Why bother trying anymore? My life is going to be rubbish whatever I do. I might as well just sit here until I die.

Another part of me thinks "How can I break out of this?" Maybe I could do an adult education class? I could do an art class now as my hands are much better at the moment - such a class has been an impossibility for most of the last 3 years while my hands have been so bad. Of course, I don't know how long my hands will stay good, so I should grab the chance while I can. But do I have the confidence to face all those people? My appearance is so dreadful it saps all my confidence.

Maybe I should try Overeaters Anonymous. As posted previously, I've always been too scared to talk about my food issues. But since writing this blog and reading other people's struggles, I do feel I might be able to do this now. Perhaps, in itself, this is a significant step forward.

I think with a huge amount of effort I could get myself out walking and I could deny myself food and therefore lose some weight. But I will relapse again. I will go through all the pain of going without food for a while only to relapse at some stage in the future. It always happens.

My life is just going round in circles.

I have been suicidal at times this week. I read Vicarious Therapy's (see blog list) post about thinking she is just an afterthought with her family. Hell, at least she has family members to talk to on the phone. I really am alone in this life. No-one would even notice if I didn't wake up tomorrow morning. I only hear intermittently - about every two weeks (sometimes much longer) - from The Bear. And usually it is only when he needs something from me, ie a phone call making, or advice for his girlfriend etc. It hurts that he is only really using me. But I have no right, of course, to complain. I am lucky to still have any contact with him. Without him, dear reader, I would be dead right now.

It's not that I want to be with him, because I don't, but I would like him to be able to consider me sometimes, and to be able to see beyond his own needs sometimes. The fact that he can't do this is why I split up with him. So it's a bit ridiculous to expect anymore from him as a friend. And I do prefer him as a friend - he was such hard work as a boyfriend!

I just wish there was someone in my life who would actually care about me. But this isn't about having a boyfriend. What I wish for is the thing I can never have ie family members who care about me, not a sexual relationship. I wouldn't be upset never to have sex again. I've had to have sex far too many times in previous relationships when I didn't want it to be bothered with that ever again. Sex just isn't on my agenda.

If you don't have family then there is nothing you can ever do about it. It's the thing I can never get over. There's no sustitute for having family members who are a) alive and b) want to have contact with you and care about you.

So this is the unsolvable problem.

Shattered

Caution: I am aware that we are under a full moon tonight. If you are feeling bad at the moment then please DO NOT READ ON. I am not writing this post with the intention of making anyone else feel bad, but just for myself and to let you know how things really are in my life.

So tired today. Got a migraine trembling on the edge. Thing behind the eyes going on and headache. No doubt carb induced. Been going on for hours now and I don't know if it's going to go full blown or not. About 10 years ago I used to get them regularly and would be in bed for 3-4 days with a bad one. But since then I've had probably no more than a handful and probably only one full blown.

I am feeling wrecked. Total wreckage.

Needless to say I didn't make it to healing as I haven't been out today.

Part of this exhaustion is because I was out for quite a few hours yesterday. And part is a carb hangover. I have just eaten totally to excess the last 3 days. I am aching all over from it. I have eaten so much that the food is coming out the other end only partially digested (no laxatives involved). I will never feel the same way about muesli again ...

I had to go out because I had an appointment with my CPN. She was glad to hear that I haven't been suicidal since our last meeting 2 weeks ago. That meeting was with the head of the psychotherapy department to see what they might be able to offer me. I told them I had been seriously suicidal in the previous few weeks of bingeing hell. I actually contacted Dignitas, the Swiss euthanasia clinic, after reading their website to see if they could help me. They do offer their services for people who are not terminally ill, and have in the past helped people with mental illness to kill themselves. But under Swiss law they need to have it signed off by a psychiatrist and currently they don't have anyone working with them who can do this. The return email said I should keep in touch in case the situation changes.

I thought about Dignitas because it is a safe way to kill yourself ie you are guaranteed to die. The only thing that stops me doing it myself is the high chance of ending up damaged or disabled rather than dead, guns not being readily available in this country.

When I told The Bear about my emailing them he said it was a waste of money and I could save the estimated 7,000 pounds and kill myself for free! I hasten to add that most of the money does not go to Dignitas themselves but is legal, mortuary, post mortem, cremation, etc fees. There's a hell of a lot of paperwork when someone goes through this process.

I really admire the the spirit of Dignitas. To give people the freedom to make their own choice in a safe humane way. Their work is brave indeed and I am very grateful that they are there. They face continual battles to keep the service going and I hope they will keep on with it.

Meanwhile, re the therapy, I have already, over the years, had psychodynamic therapy, cognitive analytic therapy, and psychoanalysis. So now the nice lady is offering me a programme of group therapy plus individual therapy. I can honestly say that therapy has never helped me at all to date and I'm not desperately keen to do anymore. But what else is there? I can't do ADs due to side effects so this is all that's on offer. There is nothing else.

This is why I was suicidal recently. Because I can see no way forward from here.

I suppose since that meeting - which ended simply with a decision to meet again at the therapy department in three months time - I have felt there might be something in the future. But I don't know.

I know some will say this is evidence that I shouldn't take my own life as things may improve. But I have been in this hell for so long already. I can't see that my life will ever be worth living.

I hasten to add that I'm not suicidal right now - which may be due, in part, to the 5-HTP I am taking, as well as the (very) faint possibility that some treatment in the future may make a difference.

Re food: The really frustrating thing is that I know my body wants, indeed is crying out for veg, salad, fish and fruit. Yet I still can't eat it for some reason. I am listening to my body - well I could hardly miss it as it's screaming at me - but I'm unable to respond in the appropriate manner. Why am I so unable to take care of myself?


BTW Sorry my formatting collapsed in the previous post. I pressed a wrong button and couldn't undo it no matter how hard I tried.

The 5am Post

Well here I am posting in the small hours of the morning, though as this blog is set to some US time zone it will probably look like I wrote it at a much more reasonable time. Why am I writing this in the middle of the night? Because I've been on antihistamines from the moment I got up to try and calm my skin down. They do cut the itching and my skin does look a little better, but they also put me half to sleep. It's pretty well impossible to do anything very much when I'm taking them - like trying to do something blind drunk, but with no enjoyment thrown in.

Between 2 and 4 hours after I take the first dose I am barely awake and then when that wears off and I start to feel alert - and start itching again - it means it's time to take the second dose.

So what with that and the fact that I went to bed at about 6am yesterday (also because of the antihistamines) I've only just got to the point in the day of being compos mentis.

Well at least I don't have to drink any alcohol to put myself into oblivion ...

So how have I done the last couple of days? Well I woke up on Friday crying and totally wiped out from having been out for several hours on Thursday. I felt so delicate, both psychologically and physically. I just couldn't face going out again so I didn't go to healing at the library. I hardly ever miss it - even in the last 6 weeks when things have been so bad, I only missed it one other time. And that was because it was too hot to go out in my coat.

Normally when I don't go to healing I feel really really bad, but on Friday I was too drowsy to get upset about it. I've hardly missed a Friday healing in the last 8 1/2 years. It's my fixed point of the week, and I don't feel complete if I don't go. It's not just the healing itself - 15 to 20 mins of total relaxation, total safety, grounding, and healing energy going all the way through you. It's the opportunity to socialise, to say hello to everyone, a few words here and there with people I've been chatting to for so many years ...

For someone as isolated as me, this is as important as the healing itself. In the last 6 weeks I have hardly chatted to anyone else apart from those people I see at healing.

Except The Bear of course!

It's at times like this when I feel so bad about myself that he is the only person I trust. Because he's seen me at my very worst and not rejected me. This makes it very special. He accepts me whatever I look like and whatever I feel like inside.

But sadly I don't get to chat to him that often, or spend much time with him.

As far as my eating goes, I'm sticking to low fat foods but not restricting my intake. I have eaten one small galaxy bar but downed two Orlistat with it. The next stage will be cutting down on the amount of food I'm eating and then trying to get into a regular pattern of good eating again - which includes having a proper evening meal of fish, salad and vegetables.

This, for me, is the most difficult bit when I've been on a food bender. Salad and vegetables are very challenging when you've only been eating rubbish, or even when you've only been eating mainly lowfat carbs, fruit and yoghurt as I am now. It's a big jump to make. When I'm eating that proper evening meal again it means I'm really "doing it"; really back on my diet. And that's real pressure, because it means that everything I eat then "counts". I will have fully stepped back into reality at that point.

Bingeing is like stepping out of reality for a while; like nothing you eat will actually put on any weight. That's what enables me to eat huge, ridiculous amounts of food. I am not connected to the reality of my situation or my life anymore. Only to the enjoyment of eating in that moment. And it is only momentary enjoyment. Sometimes even between items of food - say between one chocolate bar and another - I wish I could stop. I keep saying no more to myself even as I am reaching for the next thing to eat.

Getting back into exercising is even more difficult ...

So how do I get there? Sadly not because I love myself too much to hurt myself anymore. It's nothing to do with self love. I only ever manage to get back into it because I've become totally suicidal over not being able to go out, not having a life and looking so dreadful. Suicidal over having destroyed my appearance yet again ...

One motivator that has got me back on track the last few times is a man I fell in love with in 2005 (after I had split up with The Bear). I haven't seen this man in over 4 years now. I don't expect I ever shall see him again - and I really wouldn't want to looking like this!

We met on a course. There was this incredible chemistry between us, but we never spoke a word about it. We were never alone without other people there. He was married, so it was impossible. And he was far too honourable ever to do anything he shouldn't. So our feelings were silent and when the course ended we carried on our separate ways.

And I have never even fancied anyone since then, let alone fallen in love.

So the motivator is fantasising about seeing this man, reigniting the chemistry again. Fantasising about him being free to pursue a relationship.

Yet it's not really about this particular man - because I fully accept that that could never happen. It's about what he stands for; the idea of him. Because he was so perfect, and I was so amazed that someone so perfect could ever fall for someone like me; someone so imperfect.

I know some people will think it's wrong to be motivated by a man, that we should do it for our selves, because we love ourselves etc. But this is my reality, however politically incorrect it is ...

Oh God I'm itching really badly again. I'm going to have to go to bed now.

I may be going to see The Bear tomorrow so at least that is something to look forward to. But only if the weather is cold enough ...