Closer To The Prize At The End Of The Rope... in Chapter 9 : Oil Above Water

So, things got worse. Darker. I went to a really bad place in my head and in the end I was terrified of what I might do. Talking therapy was simply too triggering but the Hypnotherapy is working well. I’ve managed to pack up and pop away a lot of my issues, but the MDD, the OCD and the GAD are still there but I’m learning to deal with them but the Sertraline is helping for the most part, in the same way that an umbrella helps keep you dry during a storm.

I’m almost 100lbs down since June 2017. It feels great. I’m getting to a stage where a familiar feeling of power is returning, one of strength but as much as it makes me feel better I know people will tell me it’s not right and they’ll try to steal the happiness I’m finding within. I’m going to be thin again, even if it fucking kills me, because if I stay fat forever then that will definitely shuffle me off my mortal coil. If I can manage to keep my blood sugars level, iron levels up and start a good multi-vit then I can probably drop another good chunk by August. There’s approx 17 weeks until the new academic year, and I have a minimum of 40lbs to lose…but I’d quite like to lose the full 70. I’m pretty sure I can make it happen, especially considering that school and college are closed, dancing will have finished up, I’ll only be working 3 days a week and we’ll be out every chance we get…it’ll give me something to work on in the interim; after all, it’s good to have a goal.

Monday and I aren’t together anymore, well not officially. Occasionally I’ll slip back into her bed, lights off so she can’t see the scars or the actual weight loss. I don’t want anyone to see the actual loss until I’m finished, because I don’t want to have to deal with the bullshit faux concerns that they all claim to have. Monday’s concerns may stem from a good place (maybe) but lessons were learned with Elle, you let them in, you show them who you are, only for it to be thrown back and used as ammunition against you when it suits them. No disco. I won’t make that mistake again. I also don’t want Monday to use me as a reason to justify her own issues. I don’t want her pussyfooting about me either, I don’t want her weeping and wailing about the things I have done and do to myself. I don’t want her too scared to speak up because she’s scared to be a trigger. I don’t want her to use me against me, I’m not up for being anyone’s scapegoat.

Can you tell I’m starting to feel better? This week has been a week of epiphanies. Monday: I realised how much weight I’d lost. Yesterday I realised how far I’ve come academically and what I’ve accomplished. Today, well today was a weird one that involved hospice nurse, college, patient interviews and a major turn around in my head that had me crying in the toilet because I’ve spent most of my life wishing I’d die whilst these patients are dying whilst desperately wishing they’d live but this is all stuff for another entry, for the next entry.