A Message from my Coma

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Monday: 8am: wake up. Tea. 1 hour of yoga. 50g of porridge made with water; mixed seeds; agave syrup. Essay. 1pm: cycle in to town for 3 hours of health and safety training for volunteering at Boomtown Fair festival with Oxfam this summer. 5pm: cycle home. Apple. Banana. Hot chocolate. 1/2 a homemade pizza. The Emperor’s New Groove. Bed.

Tuesday: 8am: wake up. 50g of porridge made with water; banana; agave syrup. 10 mile run. 3 medjool dates, hot chocolate. 80g of green lentils; 1/2 an avocado; watercress; roasted red onion/cherry tomatoes. Cycle to uni. Apple. Essay. Composition. Lecture. Cycle home. Tea. Make/eat tofu lasagne. Pub. Glass of red. Home. The Nightmare Before Christmas. Bed.

Wednesday: 9am: wake up. Pillow talk. 1/2 an avocado, chocolate soy smoothie. Leftover lasagne. Apple. Walk into town. Shopping. Cinema. Walk home. Banana. Vegan linguine carbonara. TV. Bed.

Thursday: 8am: wake up. 35 minute run. 3 medjool dates. Soy yoghurt; banana; agave syrup. Cycle to uni. Lecture. Cycle to supermarket. Cycle home. Tea. 1 1/2 hours of yoga. Lasagne. Cello. Tea. Apple. Extended sleep. Linguine carbonara; steamed spinach. Cello. Banana sorbet; dark chocolate chips; agave syrup.

Which brings us to now.

I’ve spent the latter part of today lying on my bed, watching sitcoms online that I’ve seen a hundred times, too tired to move. Falling in and out of sleep with my music on. It’s been quite nice, except for I’m cross. For no apparent reason.

I’m exhausted. I’m irritable. I haven’t eaten a dairy product in 11 days. I’m simultaneously starving and have lost my appetite entirely.

I’ve been Facebook-stalking myself (does anyone else ever do this ?). A particular set of pictures from August last year has caught my attention. Being in the state in which I find myself recently, I find the fact that I have even noticed this at all rather distressing.

I look so happy…

… and yet I was at least a stone heavier last August, than I am now.

Looking through the series of pictures and seeing my laughing face in each one just sends an entirely surreal feeling through me. Like it’s starkly obvious how miserable I’ve become, comparing my current mood to how carefree I seem in these pictures. And I remember that day; we drank gin and lemonade out of a plastic bottle and ate chips on the beach – I wasn’t demon-free then but I did these things nonetheless, and I obviously enjoyed myself.

I saw a skinny girl in the cinema eating popcorn and it troubled me for at least 5 minutes how she could possibly allow herself to eat that and still be so slim, when I myself had just passed on a soy cappuccino because I just could not be bothered with the calories. Even though I’ve not been counting, and I feel okay with that. But I got ratty because I had to rearrange my running schedule. Then I got sad that I was ratty about something so ridiculous. I cried on my boyfriend about the same old thing; I’m scared of eating. I make stupid food rules for myself that I cannot allow myself to break. It’s turning me into a bitch.

The counsellor that I saw a few months ago (and who was the reason I decided to quit voluntary counselling after one session because he was so irritating) stopped me as I traversed campus and offered me a promotional stress ball with the university counselling services contact information on it. I wonder if he recognised me. Probably not.

I had this weird dream where I was doing my A levels (I already did them 3 years ago and got all Bs…) but I didn’t know when any of my exams were except that they were definitely all that day, and everyone was naked, and they told me to get naked so I did but then suddenly no one was naked anymore and I was the only one who was naked, and then I got my exam timetable and my performance recital was in 10 minutes and I hadn’t practiced with my duet partner. Running my hands over my body all I could feel was skin and bones and it was terrifying and I was disgusted. Then I was running around my neighbourhood but the floor wouldn’t stay still.

Is this too angst-ridden ? Yeah.

What have we learned ? That my friends and I have excellent taste in films. And that I need to sort my life out.

When the sun comes out I’m going to the seafront with the first person who will accompany me, and we’re going to buy a huge portion of chips and eat it on the beach and I’m not going to give a monkey’s how it may or may not affect my figure.

Who’s up for it ?

Amy x

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About AmySquirrell

Musician Food-lover Student

3 responses »

  1. I’ll eat chips with you. Don’t beat yourself up too much. And I didn’t even get the chance to quit counselling, counselling quit me!
    xxx

    Reply
    • thanks ellie ! did you get it at uni ? i find them all so unhelpful ! xxx

      Reply
      • No, when I was 16 or 17 I saw a social worker or something. She definitely wasn’t qualified, and she said I wasn’t a suitable candidate, so I ended up seeing a psychologist at Farnham Hospital Eating Disorders unit. But I know someone who got counselling at uni and she said it was shit. xxx

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