Back in gear

I’ve finished all my lab work for my dissertation (yay!) and now ‘only’ need to write it all up.

In other news I am full on back in gear when it comes to weightloss. I ended up putting the batteries back in the scales about a week ago, and weighed 93!! I was so upset! So I started walking more, eating better and cutting out the crap food, and today I weighed 91.7 kilos, so at least it is going in the right direction again. I’m slowly building down calorie intake again, which feels good. If I do make it, my graduation ceremony will be on the 10th of November, so hopefully Ill be at least in the 70s by then!

Love,
xXx
Rose

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Self sabotage

It seems I always end up sabotaging myself in some way, shape or form. My dissertation is due in on the first of July and I haven’t even started writing it. It’s 10.000 words on a topic I have no idea on how to tackle. And it’s really sad, I’ve managed to plough through exams, my grades are good! Like, really good, I’m almost averaging a distinction. I’m not barely scraping by. And by messing up this dissertation I am throwing away 3 years of work.

But I can’t seem to get myself out of this not-doing-anything mode…

Love,
xXx
Rose

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2 down, 2 to go…

I’ve finisihed 2 of the 3 exams I had left this week. I now have only my dissertation (well, ”only…”) and one exam in August left. And then I am done with my degree. It’s terrifying. I think I have definitely passed my exams, but don’t know if it is going to be a high enough grade to average a first for my degree. Nearly everyone else on my course is completely done with their degree, and I envy them. But I finally feel like I am actually going to get there…

Weight wise I don’t know. I took out the batteries out of my scales, as I started to focus more on my weight instead of exam revision, and I needed to sort my priorities out. I haven’t dared to put them back in.

Love,
xXx
Rose

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The end is in sight

I’m so close to the finish line. In 7 weeks time I will have handed in my dissertation, even though at the present time I have no clue on how I will pull it off. I had to write my last 2 essays for my degree in the past few days. I got the grades back yesterday. 76 for one and 57 for the other, so all in all not too bad. My average at the present time is 67.4, which is not too bad, but sad that it’s not a first… But considering everything that has gone on in the past year, it’s a surprise I’m even close to passing at all. 3 exams and a dissertation and then I will be genuinely done with my undergrad! And then on to masters haha.

Love,
xXx
Rose

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The deep scars of abuse

As a child, I was sexually abused by my stepbrother, from age 10 onwards. When I was 19 I was sexually assaulted by one of my best friends. You can say I have had my fair share of shittyness when it comes to these topics, and I would not wish it upon anyone. The abuse when I was 10 triggered Anorexia. I started developing boobs in the summer of my tenth year and my older stepbrother made a comment that he liked the starting curves. I was so scared I completely lost my appetite. I was nauseous all the time and could not keep food down at all. Later that became a conscious decision. It was my coping meganism.

It took a while for me to be able to function around people after that abuse. I used to skip gym classes at school because we had one class where we had to stand on our hands, and I couldn’t do it without someone holding my legs, but the thought of someone else touching me scared me so much, that I couldn’t go to class. I couldn’t do the hugging my friends did every time they ran into eachother, I couldn’t deal with someone touching my shoulder, or touching me in any way, shape or form. This included my parents and siblings. Because of this, I steered clear of any romantic involvement with anyone. I did have a crush, which started at 13. The boy’s name was Floris, and he was a classmate. He was also the first boy who didn’t want anything from me. Other classmates wanted my notes, I was always a good student (except for math, but honestly, who is? 😛 ) Floris didn’t want anything. We had similar interests, both had a great love for Tolkien’s work (I’m a massive Lord of the Rings nerd). We never became more than friends, but hanging out with him did do something to break down the barriers I built up against people.

When I was 18, my (younger) sister and I went out to the cinema, and later into town (Legal drinking age in Holland at the time was 16, and she was 17). She had arranged for one of her best mates and his brother to meet us in a bar, the plan was to, without my knowledge, set me up with her best friends brother. I had a good time, though I wasn’t interested in the brother, my sister said it was good to ”try things out” (like going on a date) with people, as a sort of practice for the time where I would fancy someone.

The progress I made got erased in one night, when I was 19. I had started uni, but still lived at home and it was the summer holidays. I was over at my best friends house, we sat with a bunch of friends in the garden, with a fire going and copious amount of alcohol. I’ve never been a big drinker because I am a massive lightweight, and don’t like how I am when I’ve had a few. I lose my filter, say anything that comes to mind, and start letting people in my personal space. I also had to work the next day. I hadn’t eaten that day, my eating disorder, though no longer hardcore anorexia, was still present, so the two martini’s I drank kicked in hard. I ended up falling asleep on a bench swing in the garden next to the fire. I woke up to my friend doing things to me. I couldn’t move. Not because of any physical restraints, I was just a prisoner in my own head. I waited till he was done and when he had fallen asleep I ran home. I had a shower straightaway, and went to work. I wrote him an email saying I was very upset and angry about what happened, and got a reply where he said he genuinely did not remember doing any of it, and apologised if he did. I lost my entire group of friends because of it, dropped out of uni, quit my job and spiralled into bulimia. After 10 months of sitting at home doing nothing I ran away to England in the spring of 2011.

I was once again a sad heap of person who could not have anyone come near her. I started working in a call center, where the desks were small and lots of people were in my personal space (admittedly, that used to be half a metre and now had turned to a metre) It was impossible for people to not go in my personal space with the small desks in the office.

I met my current boyfriend at work. I liked him from the moment we met, and accepted I fancied him in the spring of 2012. We got together that summer, and, against all my expectations, I was able to have a relationship and everything that came with it. I told him about the abuse, and he has always been understanding of it. I never had any problems with the physical part of our relationship until last January.

Last January, while receiving intensive treatment for my bulimia, I started getting flashbacks to when I was 4 years old. Images of my father doing things that he shouldn’t do. I could go from perfectly normal to hysterical screaming and crying in a second. I started getting panick attacks (something I used to not believe in, I always thought people were just faking it). I ended up ringing up my mum one night and asked what the hell had happened to me when I was 4 because I seemed to only get pieces of the puzzle and I had always had an immaculate memory, and I didn’t understand how I never remembered these things before. She was quiet for just a moment too long, so I knew it was true. She told me it happened after the divorce, when she had left us with our dad, and thinks my dad used me as a replacement for her. She said she brought it to court but my dad had always denied it and she had no proof apart from strange behaviour from her 4 year old.

I told about the flasbacks in my therapy sessions and am still dealing with the fact that my own father abused me. My therapist says I never dealt with any of the abuse that happened to me, that I just put it in a box somewhere in my mind, and that working on recovering from my eating disorder forced me to look at all the other issues in my life, and that’s why the abuse from when I was 4 started coming up again.

The abuse has left scars deeper than the ones I have of sticking a blade in my wrist. I see myself as someone who is broken beyond repair, like that saying about the mirror. You can fix the cracks but they’re always gonna be visible. I can’t even describe what exactly happened to me. I can’t say it, I can’t whisper it, I can’t type or write it. I can’t express the details of the abuse in any way. It never used to bother me because I had locked it in a box that I never looked in anyway, but recovery means looking at everything, and now I’ve opened the box again I can’t unsee it. It occupies my head, and I haven’t got the place for it, as I have a degree to finish and an eating disorder to recover from. It makes me suicidal again. It makes me want to start cutting again. It makes me not eat. It makes me throw up my food and I hate myself for letting these peoples actions control my life, even now.

My brain is not made to cope with all these things at the same time. I have to choose. I have to choose between my mental health, or my degree. My degree, which is costing me 9000 pounds per year. My Dutch student finance does not cover everything. So it’s money I have to pay because I, as a foreigner, am not entitled to English student finance. My Dutch student finance also runs out after this academic year, and there is no hope in hell I can raise 9k over a summer. And then there is my mental health. I just spent 6 weeks in treatment at the local psychiatric hospital to sort out my eating disorder. And even though, bulimia wise, I’m actually, surprisingly, doing OK, it turns out I have so much other crap I have to process. But I have not got the time for it.

I’ve chosen for my degree. I am fully aware that I might have a complete mental breakdown. I’m just hoping that I can hold it together till after my degree is finished.

Love,
xXx
Rose

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25

It was my birthday yesterday. I turned 25. And I finally gave myself the virtual slap in the face I desperately needed. I’m 25, yes I have no idea how on earth I will finish my dissertation for uni, or how to ever be normal around food and stuff, but I feel it is time to do stuff, instead of sitting down feeling sorry for myself.

Back in January, when I was in the clinic, I made a 2016 bucket list. Things I want to achieve this year. And one of the things on the list was to get my drivers license, as I never got round to doing this. I haven’t told any of my friends or family, apart from the boyfriend, I’m going for it, as it feels like something special. So I applied for my provisional license, and I will use part of my meagre savings for driving lessons. Time to take back control of my own life, and start doing stuff I really want to do.

I also got some more troughs to grow stuff in. I planted seeds ages ago, and most of them have sprouted! Which means I now have seedlings of strawberries, spinach, leeks, sugar snaps and cherry tomatoes. I’ve also planted courgette seeds and peppers, but they haven’t come up yet. I got planters for outside, for when the plants are big enough to go in there, and I’m quite excited about this. I love growing stuff! So I’m excited to put stuff outside once the danger of frost has passed.

I also bought myself make-up. I really hardly wear make-up, as I, when presented with the choice of 10 mins more sleep or put make-up on, I choose sleep:P But I got some anyway, and am actively trying to wear it more often, even if it is only eyeshadow and mascara. I got nude colours makeup (eyeshadow and lipstick) because I have noticed that if I wear it, I feel better about myself. I’ve also been pretty good with my resolution of taking better care of myself: I put on body lotion every day, paint my nails (sometimes colour, sometimes see-through) just for the sake of giving myself more positive attention. I’m so negative towards myself! Also rang the doctors, going there in 2 weeks time (angry fistshake at the Easter holidays) to ask if my medication can be changed to something that doesn’t make me want to jump off a cliff.

On another note, I now fit in a UK size 14 trousers, and I’m seriously ecstatic about this, as this time last year I was a UK size 20. Still have a long way to go but it is nice to see that I have already come a long way.

Love,
xXx
Rose

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Passively suicidal

Lately I have been feeling incredibly ‘down.’ Not your average ”What a crappy day” but properly down. While I was in hospital I didn’t keep any food in at all, but since I’ve come out I have been eating a shitton without purging. I don’t know what’s worse, to be honest. Bingeing and purging or just the bingeing. Purging is so bad for you but with the binges I’ve gained so much weight…><

I don’t like my new medication (mirtazapine). It is so sedating I can’t function during the day. I can’t concentrate on any of my uni work. And ending it becomes more and more appealing. I’m not saying I’m actively suicidal.

I’m passively suicidal. And that sucks. Because I don’t want to be suicidal, passive or otherwise.

And then my little brother rang this morning. (Well, little, he’s 22 this year:P). He is about to complete 2 degrees in one go, and told me he’s gonna follow his dream of acting. He’s been acting since he was 10, been in musicals and all sorts of plays, but back when he was 18, he didn’t get in theatre school. Now he’s nearly done with his degrees, he has, without telling anyone, applied again for acting school, auditioned, passed all rounds and has been accepted as one of the 12 (!!!) people who will start acting school this September.

I couldn’t be more proud! He’s following his dream. He’s ridiculously intelligent (you have to be to do two university degrees alongside each other!!) and he’s making something of his life. And at the same time I am envious. I’m 25 next Tuesday and I don’t even know if I am going to be able to complete my degree because dissertation is a disaster.

My life is such a mess at the moment, and I can’t seem to make sense out of any of it.

Love,
xXx
Rose

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