Hopeless

Aside from going on a cruise and having all my pubic hair ripped out in large patches, there have been a few other firsts in my life recently.

I was bitten by a wasp last week on Mystery Island. I’ve never been bitten by a wasp anywhere before. Not anywhere geographically – or physically. So this was a definite first. And not one I’d care to repeat as it definitely fucking hurt. It bit me on the hand and pain instantly ran up my arm. Stupid insect. It turns out I’m not allergic so running into tropical waters and snorkeling pretty much quelled the pain and by the following day I’d forgotten all about it. I still don’t care to repeat the experience.

I have also learned to use Uber. I just googled and apparently Uber was founded in 2009. So it’s been in existence for eight years and I used it for the first time on Monday. It seems I’m a dinosaur. I’m a convert now though. Marius and I are on first name terms and I’ve learned a lot about scuba diving. And where to catch an Uber at the Melbourne airport.

The reason I was ubering at Melbourne airport, is I was visiting an admitting psychiatrist at the clinic where I have been considering an inpatient stay for persistent eating disorder issues. In order to do an inpatient stay, I have to be assessed by an admitting psychiatrist. So off I dutifully trotted – full of hope. Foolish me. That hope was quickly quelled – as hope so often is. I’m not sure why I was hellbent on going into hospital, but as soon as he suggested I trial a drug for a month before considering inpatient, I got all teary and sulky. I’ve been sent home with a prescription and have no faith whatsoever that a pill can change ingrained behaviours.

So my next first is I trying a new drug. One that apparently works on compulsive behaviours, and has the added bonus of reducing migraines and aiding sleep. Two side effects I would be very grateful for.

I am trying to process my negative response to the doctor’s suggestion, and a lot of it is to do with not getting my own way. It pains me to say that… But it is true. I had put a lot of expectations, hope and plans into the hospital stay, and for those plans to be postponed or cancelled is not easy to take. I DO want to live without an eating disorder. I really do. You have NO idea how badly I want that. I can’t imagine it… But I want it. I imagined going into hospital was the answer I needed and to be told a pill is a better option is a very bitter pill to swallow – ironically. As the days pass however, I’m getting more okay with the idea. I have so far taken two pills and there have been no miracles. I have in fact, been in a cycle of horrendous bingeing and purging – as though I need to prove to the doctor his idea is wrong. I know this phase will pass, but let me assure you, it’s no fun right now.

Compulsions are the biggest problem of all – and this drug has been chosen as one that can apparently target compulsions. I have zero idea as to how that works, but apparently it is possible. I rarely eat because I am hungry – if I’m eating it’s because I have to. Either out of a social obligation or an emotional necessity. And this is why I tend to stop eating altogether – because I can’t do it in moderation. Or at least historically, I have never managed it.

Anyway – this is a long winded way of saying I am trialing a drug that should start to take effect in the next few days, and if it has shown no positive effects within a few weeks, it is unlikely to do so at all.

When I was first told of the drug in lieu of the hospital stay, I promptly caught my Uber to the airport, ordered a large meal from a fast food outlet and scoffed it at lightning speed then threw it all up. I then ate four Krispy Kremes while sitting in the ladies room and threw all those up too. I was well and truly into punishment mode. I’ve only ever eaten Krispy Kremes twice in my life, and both times were under the same circumstances.

I’m not sure if my overwhelming negative reaction to the doctor’s probably very sensible suggestion of trialing the drug before doing an inpatient stay is because I felt I didn’t get my own way, or my carefully planned timetable of events is now all topsy turvy, or if I felt all hope for recovery just dissolve completely. Possibly it’s a little of each. Whatever the case may be, I am now trialing a drug for a month, and if I do an inpatient stay, it won’t be before April. I also need to keep reminding myself an inpatient stay isn’t a magic cure – although I always knew that. It just felt like a reprieve. For six weeks I could abdicate responsibility and let someone else make all the food decisions for me.

If I could abdicate responsibility for my food decisions for the rest of my life I would do so right now. Right this minute. There is so much angst involved in food. I desperately desire food and simultaneously hate every moment of it.

As the weeks go by, I will let you all know if this miracle drug has indeed performed a miracle. I won’t be holding my breath for I have found hope to be a dangerous thing to cling to. But I will also doggedly continue to believe that if one thing doesn’t work, another thing will come along, and until I have tried all the things, it is not yet time to quit.

 

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