I’m learning to walk again, I believe I’ve waited long enough

Spent most of the night wasting time online, reading other blogs and smoking. I never sleep well the night after I leave S’s house; I miss having his arms around me when I fall asleep. I know, soft isn’t it? I’ve never liked sleeping in the same bed as somebody else – I move around a lot, kick, flail, get too hot then too cold – but sleeping with S has never been the problem it always has in the past. He just has to put his arm over my chest and dig his nose into my back, and I’m calm. I sleep like a baby.

In contrast, most of today has been spent catching up on the sleep I missed last night. I did manage to get out for a walk (admittedly, I was forced to go because tobacco supplies were running dangerously low), wander down the embankment near the marshes and actually get out on my own for once. It’s been a long time since I felt able to go for any real kind of walk, but the sun (it’s been another hot, unseasonal day) buoys me up significantly.

I paid for it, of course. Aching legs and a headache. I used to walk miles every day without thinking about it; now all I can manage is a trip to the shops. Sometimes, that’s a really depressing thought.

I’ve never been particularly into fitness, but in my childhood I ran around a lot. In my teens, I walked constantly, wandering for hours. Early twenties, I’d make myself go out every single day for long walks along the sea front. I love the freedom of being outdoors, which is strange considering my agoraphobia; you’d think I’d hate the wide-open spaces and being able to see right across the sea. I don’t though; it’s only people I can’t stand. On my own, I’m in my element. I miss having that freedom now, and feel almost cheated that it’s been taken away from me by chronic pain and fatigue. I want to try walking again – today’s attempt could have gone much worse – but I’m worried by my limitations. I still don’t know when to stop, how to conserve energy for the rest of the day.

Sometimes I worry this is all I’ll ever be able to do. That my strength is gone.

I still don’t have the guts to weigh myself. I should have done it two weeks ago, but I’ve been putting it off in case I somehow weigh more or haven’t lost anything. I’ve been controlling the binges quite well, and I’ve stopped eating in the middle of the night, and along with loosely following the Slimfast diet I think I may have lost a couple of pounds but I just don’t dare go step on those scales in case it sets off a series of events I can’t control.


A clothing drama and two fantastic weekends

Firstly, the weekend. Actually, two weekends; I’ve been somewhat lax at keeping up to date with this, and the idea of writing a long entry about my weekend with S makes me tired sometimes. The days themselves wear me out (in a good way) and half the time I can’t even remember what happened, other than I came home with a big smile on my face. Last weekend was mostly spent indoors due to the awful weather; we played Half Life, cuddled, cooked together, smoked in the garden and spent hours in bed just holding each other, talking and getting intimate. I’ve completely lost my fear of intimacy now; something I never thought would happen. I’m still incredibly self-conscious about my body, but I’m finding it so easy to get undressed in front of S and I’m no longer wary of him touching me in case he doesn’t find me attractive. He’s forever telling me I’m beautiful, which helps… the strange thing is, I’m starting to believe him. I’ve never been able to accept compliments, especially about something which affects me so deeply, so I’m feeling suspicious. Not of him, but of myself.

Tiredness has been a bit of an issue. It makes me angry when lethargy gets in the way of having a good time, but there’s nothing I can do about it except push myself. Still, being around S seems to boost my energy, and it’s not so depressing when I know there’s someone to cuddle me if I’m feeling unwell. I’ve been taunting myself with the thought that he’ll tire of having a relationship with someone so incapable; I can’t help myself. I feel as though I’ve been given something fantastic by accident, and any minute he’ll be snatched away from me.

Discovered on Thursday that nothing fits me again. I mean, nothing – not even my size 12 clothes which fit perfectly not so long ago. I had to buy emergency fat clothes, which did nothing for my self-esteem… why am I letting myself put on weight? I should have more control than this. I need to get a grip now or I’ll just end up back in that endless weight gain/hatred cycle.

My sister (E) and I had an argument outside Tesco on Thursday. I’m so used to it being mum and I on shopping trips that when another family member comes along, I tend to freak out, and I did. I was already stressed by how busy it was and the upset over my weight (buying food was a nightmare – I checked every single item for fat and calories), so when E started taking over the packing, I started to lose it. I felt pushed out, because sometimes the only way I can justify my place on Earth is knowing that once a week I help mum with the shopping. I wasn’t even given that, she just barged in and insisted on doing it ‘her way’ with no room for manoeuvre. I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but it’s difficult not to when I find it so difficult justifying my existence sometimes. After all, I don’t work, I don’t study, I don’t go on nights out with friends, I don’t socialise as much as the ‘norm’… I’m not like her. I don’t have two jobs, a house, a pet and a social life. I live with my mother and rely on government handouts to survive. It’s hard not to feel worthless.

I ended up bursting into tears outside when she started saying I was making a show of myself. Why can’t I be good enough for my family? I love her, and I know she loves me, but nobody seems to understand how difficult it is to cope sometimes. It’s not my fault that I panic; I’m taking the pills they give me, I’m doing what’s asked of me, what more can I do?