I am pretty much off uni now til September ’10. That’s quite weird. I have some ideas, some things I’d like to do and a few things related to my course that I’d like to get a head start on (research! eek). I cannot believe so much has happened in one term, and I would never have thought in September this year that I would be intermitting. It sucks, I’m a bit peeved about how it’s happened, but also it’s given me time to think about and work on myself. Which I guess is a good thing. What’s not so good is that the uni are taking what seems like forever to sort it all out and my money situation is pretty crap. 2 weeks before Christmas and I’e got something like £3 to last me this week, and even less for the fortnight after due to needing to put my rent aside in case I don’t get my bursary yadda yadda. Ugh.

I’m still working out the best way to tell people. I’m trying to not have to, really. It’s not working though. I’m throwing myself into choir and music stuff right now to occupy myself a little. I’m also in the middle of a Craftster swap, so that’s also keeping me busy.

Uni is unbearable. I’m not there at hte moment, but I keep getting emails about my “situation” and stuff. I want them to just leave me alone. I can’t bear it. I think I might just have to disconnect myself for a bit. Just until the world feels a bit safer for me. I’ve actually gotten to the point where I’m frightened of my tutor, because of the way things have been handled. I worry on a daily basis about bumping into him around where I live (knowing that he lives in the area as well), and I’m scared to even go into campus because I don’t want to see him.

I can’t believe that all of this has happened. I know I haven’t really detailed it here, and there are reasons for that, but omg, its just… horrid.

Things have not been good. I’ve had a lot of stress lately, and everything has gone to hell. I think that my session with my counsellor this week may be my last since that’s going really badly. I’ve had a horrendous time at uni where I’ve been backed into a corner and had no choice but to intermit (take a year out). The change in seasons has led to a total resurgence of depression, and I’ve been feeling so disgusting and dirty that I’ve taken to showering with a nail brush to try and scrub all the evil off me. I had to sit in my uni tutor’s office the other day and confess that I’ve relapsed and that my depression is shit. He was less than supportive, but it made him understand the whole year out thing.

Life is feeling pretty unbearable at the moment. I am still trying to battle on, and still trying to work out how to make it work, how to make it better and how to feel like this hasn’t all been a total waste. However, I’m also using all of the above to beat myself up over and over again. This is a Bad Thing. I just can’t seem to believe I deserve anything better. I wake up most mornings with dread because I have to face ANOTHER day of feeling like this, ANOTHER day of failing at life, ANOTHER day of being a drain on the world. I am so completely ashamed of everything that’s happened lately. SO ashamed.

It’s raining outside. Has been most of the day. It’s not filling me with joy either. Oh, and I need to go food shopping. What I WANT to do is go and buy loads of binge food and wait til my housemates are out a bit later and have an enormous b/p, just to add to my feelings of total awesomeness…

I have relapsed. That is the one thing I can say online that I cannot say in RL. I’ve spoken to a couple of people about it but haven’t been able to use the R word verbally. This makes me feel like a total failure. The R word, not my inability to actually say it. I’m supposed to be so over this shit.

I’m very much not. It’s understandable, people tell me, with what I’m dealing with atm, that I would turn back to old ways of coping. Trying to deal with the abuse and flashbacks = restricting, binging and purging. I’ve even taken to my good old habit of throwing up my drinks. I am that much of a genius.

I am not proud of this fact at all. I am not proud of the fact that, at 31 years old, I am still dealing with this. That at 31 years old there are words that I can write but cannot say. The R word is one. The A word (as used above) is another. I am actually a little shamed of that now I think of it.

Went to visit my friend yesterday, the one who is IP, and I wasn’t able to stop crying for most of last night. I’m livid with the NHS who’ve let her get to BMI 11 without intervening, and I’m so desperately sad and worried for her. I love her to bits and I cannot believe she’s in this place. It proper sucks.

I’m also livid with the essay I’m trying to write. I am trying to establish the original reference for something so I went from the book I found it in to the source the book referenced. All good.

Except the source that the book referenced, was referencing an earlier edition of the book that referenced the source in the first goddamned place. I am now confused, to say the least.

like my worlds have just collided massively.

i’m not really understanding what’s happening at the moment at all. yesterday was basically a b/p fest and now i just.. i’m numb. i don’t know quite what to do.i wat to talk to someone but there’s no one to talk to.

I’m on my own in the house again until Monday. Don’t like that so much, but getting used to it more now. That’s not the problem.

Realising that life is fragile every time someone on the forums dies. That hurts, it really does. Even though I’m just thought of as one of the dramatic people there (which is probably true. It reminds me how I used to be though, and that hurts too). With so much death there, my uncle dying earlier this year, losing friendships, losing sense of myself, my family… i’m starting to feel like I cannot cope with any more loss of any sort. Like, everything is so changeable, nothing is static.It’s terrifying and I don’t know how to cope with that.

On the flipside though, all I want to do is change. Change myself, change who I am. I still don’t like myself, still can’t bear to be with myself and now I’m wondering if anything will ever change that.

I keep looking at myself in the mirror today. Noticing every lump and bump on my body. My pregnant looking belly, my horrible white legs, my face… ugh. I can’t get comfortable at all with myself today. I can’t even really bear just sitting here and typing this. I want to go for a long, long, long walk but I’m too scared of people seeing me. Going to town for a coffee or something is ok, because you’re fairly anonymous. But it feels like the moment I go out for a walk I become the Fat Chick. I don’t know how that works really, but in my stupid head, it does.

I also get the Fear. Mainly the fear of being seen, but it’s .. well scary. I’m getting the Fear about a lot of things. I wake up in the middle of the night with the Fear of something. Whether it’s uni work, living in this house and being Normal, counselling, the future… whatever it is. I wake up panicking, every night without fail. I’m getting fed up with it all now.

Had a counselling appt today, which really brought up some tough, tough stuff. I’m surprised that I got as upset as I did over something reasonably insignificant (which was putting a plastic animal onto the table. It’s a longer story that I have no desire to go into right now). I’m still shattered, both emotionally and physically, and I feel quite vulnerable as well. In fact, I feel delicate rather than vulnerable. Delicate in that I might just break at any moment. I haven’t felt like this in a very long time, and it feels quite odd.

I’m also not feeling particularly well. I’ve got some sort of chesty/coldy thing (that in’t swine flu) and it won’t come out and do it’s worst. It’s just piddling about making me feel a bit crap but not so ill that I have to retire to bed for a couple of days. I wish it would just knock me flying for a bit rather than leaving me functional but lacklustre.

I feel bad, however, for the fact that I get p***** off when I go back because my parents smoke, and I come back smelling all smokey which makes me cross and also feel quite grim.
Today was even better though. Talking about weight, specific weights, food… horrible stuff. They don’t usually do that, and I’ve now been triggered by a) my mum’s weight and b) the fact that my dad weighs LESS than I do.

gutted, much?