Friday, 13 February 2009
Still Alive and Kicking...
I'm sorry: I feel rather guilty for my silence on the blog and the concerned messages I have received. I'm still here, and still intact...and thanks to those of you who have written to me, and expressed your worries for me. I'm gratified that you think so much of me - thank you!
A bit of a catch-up for you. A week ago, I had to go into hospital as I had been fainting and suffering quite bad heart pains. The bizarre thing was, the actual medical condition got completely swept away when the services realised my history of self-harm and overdoses and thus, at 2am, I was waiting for an interview with the psychiatric department to plead for my release. I still don't know why I was fainting and blacking out, but I was told vaguely, by a nurse, that my blood pressure was very low and my pulse rate had dropped to 58 bpm. I was very reluctant to bring the psychiatric stuff up, and loathe to go to hospital, so I ended up having a permanent police escort in case I 'did a runner' - I was given the opportunity to go willingly, or be sectioned. As it stood, I was told later, I was under some form of sectioning whether I liked it or not. A bit of a three-lined whip there and what a waste of resources? Ian and I ended up playing 'I Spy' and other ridiculous games with our bobby on the beat. He was as bored as we were...And I think he realised that it was a waste of his time, too, having to make sure I 'behaved'.
Rosemary is still at her father's house and has embraced the purse of The Other Woman with outstretched hands. She was treated to about £100 worth of designer gear two weeks ago and has rubbed her sister's nose in it repeatedly. She has blown hot and cold with me over the telephone. We redecorated her bedroom last week - our house is a work in progress and the only room left now is the bathroom. Simply redecorating the room caused ructions as Beth claimed it was now a 'Guest Bedroom' - this led to Rosemary storming out of our house within five minutes of arriving - ostensibly she had come to 'say hi', but she was actually waiting here for her friend to invite her over for tea. Doors slammed, and then reopened as she stormed through the house, up the stairs, crashed drawers, cupboards...I took it for about ten minutes, and then decided enough was enough. There ensued yet another stand-up lecture about how this behaviour was not endearing her to us, and if she wanted to return here, hard work was going to have to be done.
This ill atmosphere infiltrated the house and left us all feeling rather flattened. As it came for her to go to her friend's, she gave me a hug...and I felt again as though my Rosie was in my arms - she didn't want to let go, and it was so sweet. Then she stalked off and I haven't seen her since.
I've not been drinking (sorry, Lola!) and thinking more clearly. I've cut down on the laxatives and I nibble through the day. I am trying to eat a main meal in the evenings and 4/7, I succeed. I am, however, finding that around 5pm, after I have accumulated worries through the day (mostly of my own making, and my own over-active mind), I will succumb to a binge-purge. Generally, just the one. It sort of takes all the crap out of my head and it gets flushed down the toilet along with the rest of the gloop. That one action really seems to exorcise my demons - and takes much less toll on the rest of the household than me caning the red wine or vodka.
The dynamics between Beth, Ian and me are fantastic, I must admit. It's as though there is more oxygen to breathe in this house. There is more levity, more fun, more peace, and stacks of laughter. I actually feel better now than I have done for around 12 months. Ian and I are getting on very well and nary a cross word has passed between us for over two weeks. Even Beth has noticed the vast improvement in our relationship and she rarely notices anything unless it is covered in fur and meows. Although I miss Rosemary, I don't miss the rows, stress, tip-toeing over eggshells, and the volatility of her temper. I hope that she thinks hard about my 'speech' to her wherein I explained that although we loved her deeply, we didn't love her behaviour and all we want is respect and civility...somehow, though, I don't think she will mither too much as she is currently being treated to everything her little heart desires. Her father is acting as though she is the injured party, The Other Woman is all over her like a rash and she is the centre of all attention. The only problem in all of this, is that Beth is now being treated by her father like the poor relation and it bites. Ian and I are doing our utmost to ensure that she is happy and contented here, but as I said to him, we have to always be aware that we cannot concede too much, otherwise another spoilt child emerges and that's no good to anyone.
I was rather shocked to learn my weight at hospital. My own bathroom scales would appear to be extremely wrong and I was 8lbs lighter on the hospital scales, fully clothed - this was also the case when I weighed in at a spa a few weeks ago. The really strange thing for me is that I feel my mind-set moving away from struggling with an ED. I don't really consider myself 'suffering', as it were - I feel as though I am trying to fight it inwardly and outwardly. I will force myself to eat, even if I don't want to, rather than surrender and starve. As I say, the ED manifests itself, physically, mainly in that one binge-purge of the day, which is a vast improvement on a few weeks ago when it could have happened 3, 4, 5+ times a day.
Mother dearest is on top form, as usual! It seems the ex has had to go for a brain scan (I wonder if they found it?). And she is deeply concerned: baby-sitting, making meals for him (the last of which he was violently ill with: a fact which raised a wry smile to my face - perhaps she is surreptitiously attempting to poison him, and the matiness is all a big front?! That's My Mum!!) and even kissing him better...'kiss-ass' was mentioned by Beth a few more times having witnessed these events this week! She is also now asking after The Other Woman. No doubt TOW will be invited for dinner one weekend in the not too distant future. Considering this is the woman my Mother christened 'That Bitch', this will be interesting to observe...
And I have actually been able to detach from it somewhat. Each little revelation from Beth brings its own twisting of the knife, but after a good night's sleep, I can generally shrug it off and objectively amaze at how completely rotten the woman is, through and through. Anyone who can behave like this towards their own child has to be mentally unstable. I appear to have been given the wrong mother and therefore, I have to cast her aside - I've done that physically, and mentally/emotionally, it's definitely on its way nowadays, thank God.
My one big hang-up at the moment is not being employed. I handed in my notice with the pharmaceutical company for whom I worked. I knew a return to that manic environment, with a boss who considered me one techy fact below Bill Gates, gave me the vaguest remits for jobs and then lambasted me if things went wrong would not be conducive to a healthy future, either mentally or physically at the moment, and thus resigned. I have been approached by a number of agencies over the last few months to apply for other Search Marketing jobs, but have declined. However, I now feel ready to face the Rat Race again in many ways. I feel very inadequate at the moment. Going from competent trouble-shooter to cosy domestic doesn't sit comfortably with me. Keeping a spotless home, cooking, ironing, running errands is all well and good, but for a very strange reason, it doesn't seem a valuable or valued job in my eyes. I want to feel as though I am contributing to this household financially as well as practically. Having been an independent, single parent for quite a long time, it is a shock to be a 'kept woman' and I don't think I like it.
But my sticking point is going to be my sickness record. Few employers would touch me with a barge-pole at the moment, and I haven't a clue how to explain it all away without coming across as a total basket-case. How do you explain anorexia to a businessman who will probably think I have a dieting obsession? How do you explain bulimia to a boss who cannot start his day without a Full Monty fry-up? I'm not generalising here - from my own work experience, every boss of mine has been enormous, or at least, thoroughly enjoyed his first light bacon butties...
So, I need to get my thinking cap on and work out how to get around this blip. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!