Diary entry: 1st January
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Well Happy New Year. Happy New Lizzie? I wonder what this year will bring. Can it be any worse than last year? Typical New Year’s Eve nightmare – we both hate it anyway so it’s not surprising. Why am I not given any concessions for being unwell? I know he is sick of it, but that doesn’t make it suddenly evaporate. We went on a walk and I got tired. Very tired. Just getting through the day is sometimes a physical struggle. But I’m not allowed to play the anorexia card. Especially if it rears its ugly head at an inconvenient time. Or heaven forbid, at a mealtime.
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It was lovely to have the Shergolds back and a well-needed injection of normality and stability. Christmas is such an artificial situation it’s not surprising people come to blows – and with the added pressure of an eating disorder when there is a surfeit of food and drink, I guess it’s surprising I am still in one piece.
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Sometimes I have to give myself a reality check. And I realise that it isn’t always me.
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But I'm prepared to change, and I am changing. It’s not surprising that I’m going to have weird mood swings to accompany the weight gain. Read the literature, it’s text book stuff. I’m coping with the fat thighs, the stuffed-ness, the hamster cheeks. Give myself some leeway and acknowledge it.
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Nothing is going to change unless I do.
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I’m finding this whole thing rather uncomfortable. Not just physically (although it is – I feel like the Pilsbury dough man. Just raisins pressed into uncooked dough. Hot.) but emotionally too. This diary wasn’t intended to be an outlet for my self pity but sometimes it has to be. I don’t want it to be read I just need to get it out. Reawakening of feelings. I’ve just got to go with it and try. See it as an experiment. I don’t like it. I don’t like eating so much. I don’t like enjoying myself. Yet. But I will. And maybe we can go back to how we were. I try so hard but it is never enough. I love him so much but that’s never enough either. When is it ever going to be enough?
.
It was lovely to have the Shergolds back and a well-needed injection of normality and stability. Christmas is such an artificial situation it’s not surprising people come to blows – and with the added pressure of an eating disorder when there is a surfeit of food and drink, I guess it’s surprising I am still in one piece.
.
Sometimes I have to give myself a reality check. And I realise that it isn’t always me.
.
But I'm prepared to change, and I am changing. It’s not surprising that I’m going to have weird mood swings to accompany the weight gain. Read the literature, it’s text book stuff. I’m coping with the fat thighs, the stuffed-ness, the hamster cheeks. Give myself some leeway and acknowledge it.
.
Nothing is going to change unless I do.
.
I’m finding this whole thing rather uncomfortable. Not just physically (although it is – I feel like the Pilsbury dough man. Just raisins pressed into uncooked dough. Hot.) but emotionally too. This diary wasn’t intended to be an outlet for my self pity but sometimes it has to be. I don’t want it to be read I just need to get it out. Reawakening of feelings. I’ve just got to go with it and try. See it as an experiment. I don’t like it. I don’t like eating so much. I don’t like enjoying myself. Yet. But I will. And maybe we can go back to how we were. I try so hard but it is never enough. I love him so much but that’s never enough either. When is it ever going to be enough?
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