Friday, Mar. 19, 2004/2:49 pm

still hope

Yesterday went well until about 11.30pm, when the guilty voices rolled in, corrupting good intentions, and the ceiling crumbled and fell in on me. I had followed my meal plan all day, aiming at between 1000-1500 calories. Yet, by adding up the calulations, slight teaspoon measurements, extra mugs of tea, several swigs of lucozade used to pick up low blood readings, i figured that i had infact taken in more than i intended. That glucose filled orange liquid is lethal, i read that it contains the equivilant in sugar to three bags of jelly babies. Unfortunately essential at the moment as i'm trying to sort my insulin out. I'm learning a whole re-education of how much to portion by and how many units to inject.

Anyway. I started to panic, the torturous numbers and decimals twisting around in my head. Feeling my curved middle, a round swell of fat buldging over my jeans. I started to binge, a few bisuits, toast, toast and more toast. I eat until i felt painfully full, and i could hardly move. Gasping for air on the way up to the toilet. Pulled my hair back and watched it wash away with my tears. Traces of lunch and dinner burning my throat as the last few pieces of food came up. I was so quiet, my brother asleep on the other side of the wall, Mum reading in bed. Afterwards i crawled under my covers and drifted to sleep aching with discomfort and disapointment.

This morning, switched to the same mode. Just one innocent cup of tea, lead to scraping the remains of honey from the pot with a butter knife. Charging through healthy options i had persuaded Mum to buy yesterday, so to keep me from temptation. Two purges later i crashed down and something clicked. Something that told me to get out, to stop, now. I had to get out of the house. It was raining hard, and i sat outside on the back steps. Shivering, my feet numbed by cold concrete, only insulated by the thin material of pastel socks. Listening to the call of baby birds high up in the trees, the sweep of wind through the sky and over scattered leaves. I held out my hands from under the porch, and gathered water, transparent hope. It trickled slowly down my sleeve, across my wrist, blue prominent veins, begging for warmth.

I returned indoors, moving past the last chapter and starting a new page. I took a dose of novorapid, made myself a safe ceaser salad, with lettuce, sauce, a little parmesan cheese, croutons, and a wholemeal roll on the side. Whilst eating i imagined the idea of abandoning the old me outside. Letting the down-pour wash the filth away and strip me of the past. I realised that it can't work like that. I can't emerge untainted, i can't forget, i can't pretend none of this has happened. Instead i can create another landscape, draw a different picture using the same crushed paints. I have been moulded and changed by this illness, without it who knows how i would have turned out. I can overcome it, ignore the games it's playing with me, be aware but unmoved, don't jump when it tells me too.

This weekend i am not going to give myself the opportunity to binge. I won't leave myself alone. Plus, Matthew isn't working Monday so he will be around, i'll use it as a blessing rather than an inconvinience like i usually do. Three days. It's my challenge. I've also started writing in a recovery journal, filling a lovely book that Ria mailed me with all my goals and dreams. I will retire back to it when i need a distraction, when i need to vent and let my emotions out. I might even print off a few pages from my notes & guestbook here to stick in, with all those helpful, amazing messages i am sent.

So, three days abstinence. I won't write back here until i can say i've done it. So wish me luck, and watch out for an update on Tuesday :)