Sick and Tired

I needed a break from healthcare appointments. I cancelled all of my appointments. I was just so tired of talking about my health, my feelings, my thoughts.

The break lasted about one and half weeks. I got a letter in the mail form my optometrist. A reminder for my annual check up. No biggie. I made the appointment for the following day just to get it over with.

Then it turned to shit. The appointment wasn’t actually for a regular eye test. It was for new photos of my badly bulging optic nerves, and a peripheral vision test to check for vision loss.

This isn’t new to me. A couple of years ago they discovered the problem with my optic nerves. It was thoroughly investigated, and specialists eventually concluded that I had pseudopapilledema (sue-doe-pap-ill-ed-eema). They said, due to lack of symptoms, that it was nothing to be concerned about, but to get my eyes tested annually.

Jump forward to now. Two years after that diagnosis. My optic nerves are bulging more than they ever have. I’m to follow up with my GP who can do referrals for relevant tests, scans, and outpatient referrals.

I dread this. I suspect I know how this goes.

I see my lovely GP who has a little panic. Then it goes one of two ways. The first way she keeps her cool, and sends me off for any relevant blood tests or scans, and an outpatient referral to a specialist. The second way she completely panics, and sends me straight to the Eye & Ear hospital where I spend the rest of the day in their emergency department.

When I eventually see a specialist (whether inpatient or outpatient) they’re likely to explore the possibility of Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension. Basically, increased pressure in my brain that pushes the optic nerve forward into my eye. That was the potential a couple of years ago, but they ruled it out due to lack of symptoms.

If I see a specialist about the pseudopapilledema they’re likely to tell me that I need to lose weight. I know I do. I’m 40kg above my healthy BMI. Yes, I know BMI isn’t a particularly accurate way to judge health, but it’s what the majority of doctors rely on. If it’s IIH, even if it’s not, they’re likely to recommend weight loss.

That’s fine. I understand how weight loss would help this, as well as all my other chronic conditions. It’s just that I also have an eating disorder, and every single weight loss attempt has ended in a severe relapse.

I’ve only just gotten back to eating a bit more, and a bit more regularly. Now though? Gone. Obliterated. No food for me because I’m causing, or worsening, my health issues, and it’s all my fault. That’s where my head has gone.

So weight loss to improve my health? Necessary, yes. Possible? I don’t now how. Physical health issues mean I can’t do anything even resembling exercise. Throw in all the mental health issues, especially the eating disorder, and I don’t know how I can lose weight, remain sane, and maintain the health I do have at the moment.

I’m sick and tired of being so sick and tired.

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Running From The Quiet

Do you ever just sit? Just sit, nothing else. No screens, no book, no conversation, just sitting. Letting your mind wander, noticing what you can see, and hear around you.

I don’t do it very often. Actually, I’m an expert at avoiding and distracting. Avoidance is rarely helpful, but distractions aren’t that bad, right? It’s good to distract yourself, isn’t it?  Unless you’re distracting yourself in order to avoid, even if that’s unconsciously.

I keep my mind so busy that it doesn’t have time to wander, ramble, and explore. When it comes to bedtime and there are, finally, no distractions I end up feeling utterly overwhelmed by all the thoughts and feelings that come up. Not necessarily trauma related either. Thoughts about the day, about things from ten years ago, about something I need to do tomorrow, about plans next week.

Keeping my mind busy and distracted all day usually means it hasn’t had time to sit and ponder things. I find I need time to just sit and think. I’m quite organised, so none of that needs doing, but my mind seems to need time to go over the day, and the past, and the future.

Journal writing is usually how I think, but I’ve been finding that too structured. I find myself needing a few hours throughout the day to just let my mind wander. This means no phone, no laptop, no TV. No constant distractions.

Today I spent my time on the train with my phone in my bag. I didn’t look at it except to check the time when I got off the train. I sat. I sat and noticed the other people on the train. I noticed the buildings we passed, the stations we went through. I noticed my mind wander to all sorts of things. It was oddly peaceful.

I needed that time away from constantly distracting myself to just be. I sat in silence on the train and just watched where my mind wandered.

Now, at the end of the day, I’m feeling more content and relaxed than usual. I feel like I have space in my head to deal with day-to-day tasks. It’s not bedtime yet, but I think my mediation before bed tonight will be easier as my mind has had time to wander.

Conversation inside is much easier as well. With my mind less cluttered I can hear and talk to nearly everyone inside.

I think taking a break from constantly distracting needs to be a change we make longterm. With just one day having noticeable benefits, I wonder what impact it will have on our mental health longterm.

We’re On Instagram!

Life As A Committee is now on Instagram! You can see our latest photos in the sidebar here or follow us on Instagram @lifeasacommittee

I’m hoping that we’ll be able to share more of our day-to-day lives on Instagram, especially when we’re unable to write posts here. Writing coherently takes a lot of energy that we don’t always have, and sometimes, that’s why there’s a lack of regular posts. Plus life gets hectic and there isn’t always time to write a full post.

Shit Has Hit The Fan

Maybe things aren’t going so well. I keep trying to convince myself that things aren’t so bad, that they could be worse, that nothing is really wrong.

Yet today, when my groceries were delivered, I hurriedly hid alcohol and sharps in my room so if my housemate came home she wouldn’t see them. A few minutes after the delivery driver left my housemate came home. My secrets were hidden. Along with a second carton of diet soft drink, and eating disorder ‘safe’ food.

All are flashing neon warning signs that I’m not okay, and my housemate is well and truly aware of them. I’m scared my housemate will find out and confront me. I’m scared my friends will find out and do the same. I’m scared of where I’m headed.

I’m going around in circles of crippling depression, overwhelming emotions, and destructive behaviours. I’m not proud. I don’t want people to know. I’m desperate to hide these behaviours from friends and family.

Yet with hiding the behaviours comes enormous guilt. Guilt from lying to friends and family about behaviours, about how I really am. Guilt at even the thought of telling any friends or family a watered down version of the truth. Guilt because alcohol abuse runs in my family, and it’s a path I’ve always sworn I wouldn’t go down.

The guilt adds fuel to the fire that’s already burning strongly. I’m desperately clutching at behaviours that slowly destroy me. Healthy coping mechanisms are long gone. I’m trying to hold on, but can see the mess my day-to-day life has become, and have given up. Might as well have another drink, or use another unhelpful behaviour to keep holding on.

Shit has hit the fan.