Are you bored?

"Niamh, aren't you bored?"
This was a question that came from a friend of a friend, only recently. Not that that's relevant, but it made me think.. Why would someone think I'm bored? Is that the impression I give off? Or is it the thoughts of what I do all day long just plain boring? Is that it maybe? And why did that question stick in my mind?

It stuck in mind, but didn't make me feel awful. It shocked me that it didn't bring me down and make me feel worthless. Because at that moment, when she asked me, I wasn't doing anything. But that doesn't mean to say I was bored. Someone once said: I'm a human BEING. Not a human DOING. Therefore people are made to just be people and not to be something by what they're doing and by being active all the time.

If I can be fine whilst doing absolutely nothing, then that's nearly mission accomplished, in my opinion. I could never have imagined that doing nothing each and everyday for weeks and weeks, wouldn't make me feel awful. Because it used to make me feel like there was nothing to live for. And to be honest, sometimes it still does. But old habits are hard to break.

Being bored is a state of being, just like being positive or sad. It's something you can choose to be. Choosing to be bored, would be going backwards. I used to constantly try to avoid being bored, 24 hours a day. There was never allowed to be a half in the day that I felt bored. I felt so awful. But now, it's different. I'm not bored if I don't do anything. I'm just being.

I can't actually say that I do nothing all day long. Because I do enough. Well, enough for the moment anyhow. I try not to stress that not everything I do is either productive, active or creative. It doesn't always have to that way. It makes me happier to be creative than to be active, because I'm working through things and being good to myself and I'm being ruled by the heart and not the head. By being creative, my brain is being active. By being creative, I'm being productive. I'm not doing what I love to do most, day-in day-out, which is sit here and type nonsense, a lot of the time. It's from the heart and it shouldn't matter how good, bad, sad or happy this writing is.. Because it's me and my state of mind and my state of being, at this very moment. It's what I need to do, to either not feel bored and worthless or to learn or to reflect or to register.

Do I care if people think I'm bored? No, I don't, because being able to be at ease and do nothing and not awful about, shows me I've made a lot changes since the start of this and that I'm getting happier being me. I'm able to be in my own company and with my own thoughs, without going insane. That in itself, is a lot. For now anyway... Boredom isn't an issue and I can't let it either..

Itchy feet

Saturday morning. Thinking about the past week and I'm finally starting the feel settled again. Isn't it strange for someone who loves travel so much, to be so happy being in familiar surroundings? Nothing new, nothing different, nothing exciting, no hussle, no bustle. Nothing of the sort. But being fine with it. I would usually never have to think twice about sleeping in a different bed or being out of my comfort-zone.. That's what I usually would love best and it would get my adrenaline pumping and make me feel alive.

Unfamiliar surroundings and a different bed every night, isn't that what travel is all about? Shouldn't that be the best? At this moment in time? no way. It sounds like torture. Feeling so strongly about it, makes me feel like a failure, and like I'm going against everything I believed my life should revolve around. Even though I know that it's only temporary, it still feels bad admitting that I need security, food and a feeling of safety right now.

This strong feeling aside, I still manage to feel so envious at the thoughts of everyone jetsetting across this globe. It's so much more than getting on a plane and being able to say I've been here, there and everywhere. It's what happens once you set foot on the unfamiliar soil. Just like last weekend, the journey it's self wasn't great, but at the end of the day, it was all about what happened and how I felt once I was in Holland. I never imagined something so small could have such a huge impact. It makes me envious that most people can carry a weekend like that through without it turning into a drama. It remains exactly what it was meant to be.. a few days seeing the family. Something so small that doesn't suck the life out you.

2 years ago, I didn't think twice about jumping on a plane. It was normal and I maybe didn't even appreciate properly what I was doing and the once in a life-time experiences I was about to have. Seeing and doing things some people only dream of doing. To me, it was normal, it was what I had to do so I just got on with it. I worked me ass off to get there so in that sense I did appreciate it. But the fact that it takes guts and courage to fly to the other side of the world, alone, for a year, never occured to me. It was easy. Effortless. Normal.

Now that I can't do it yet, I can see how much it takes. The energy, the strength, the independence, the balls, the organisation, the confidence. A clear mind in a strong body and so much more. Everything that a person needs in order to travel and fully embrace every little thing along the way, was taken away from me. At one stage there was nothing left. Physically and mentally everything had gone, except for my strength and determination.

Now, seeing how much I had lost, and how much I've been gaining, and still need to gain, shows me how important this waiting game is. I need every bone in my body to be strong again and every muscle to be fed. It shows me that things don't always "go without saying". Nothing should be taken for granted and nothing is certain. And it especially shows me that nothing is normal.

I hear about so many people leaving and coming and going. I have to force myself to not dwell on the fact that I can't leave and to not be resentful. I have to sit tight and wait and wait and wait. I have to stop the frustrations and I have to let go of my fear of what lies ahead and I have to forget about time. As I continue to repeat myself over and over again, until it sticks, properly and until it feels right.. These things I can do on good days but I can't on bad days. But, then again, who says what's a good day and what's a bad day? I determine what's what. It's all in my hands and it's up to me to see it and to do what's best.

A step back

Trying to settle back into my normal regime of eating, since Tuesday morning.
I've noticed that I've been struggling slightly, or more than usual, with dinners again. Over the weekend, on the days I was traveling, I missed two dinners. I think that might have unsettled the easiness I was starting to feel around dinnertime.

Tuesday I didn't think twice about dinner. I needed it, because on Monday I was traveling and didn't get the opportunity to eat properly. So Wednesday I was taken by surprise when it was massive big deal, as to what and how much I was going to eat for dinner. It had been so long since I had been beating myself up about it. I had gotten used to normal portions and I wouldn't feel guilty for having it all. I would need a proper dinner, and more important, I would WANT a proper dinner.

However, Wednesday I didn't want it and I didn't think I needed it. I wasn't bothered one way or another if I would have dinner or not. But I did. It wasn't a lot and I felt so awful, yuck and guilty afterwards. I never expected it to become a problem so quickly and easily again. Which might have been slightly naive of me.. But I felt like I used to feel months ago around dinnertime.. visions of the food clogging my arteries, the food making me fat and traveling an unnecessary journey through my gut. O, how disgusting.

I had noodles and chicken with some salad. I had some cheese on it too, and that's what I started to feel awful about. The cheese. Why did I put 100 calories on my dinner, that I clearly didn't need and that are unnecessary. How silly am I for doing this? I was making the eating more of a challenge than it already was, by putting the cheese on it.. and to be honest, it wasn't even that nice either.. :(

On Wednesday, eating a digestive biscuit was wrong. It was 9 o'clock at night and I shouldn't have had it. It was turning into fat again, and made me feel unhealthy. But I wanted it, so I had it, no matter how guilty I felt for reaching up to the biscuit tin.. I'm a bad bad person..

Yesterday, I had a craving for cereal or shredded wheat, or something along those lines. I had some for lunch. Bad, bad, bad. This should have been the tell tale sign that I was restricting myself. But I didn't feel I was, because I was eating. Cereal and things were once my safe food, and me wanting to only eat this, all day long if I could, was wrong. I need protein and carbs for lunch. If I had a craving for the cereal, I could have had a bowl as a snack in between, but not as one of my meals, and that's what I did.

Each day, I've been trying to act on the hunger, but I don't think I've been doing it right. For some reason I can't go back to my food-plan. I feel like I'm going backwards if I do. I've been having 2 supplement drinks each day. When I follow my food-plan I have to drink 3. But I can't let myself. I'm not sure if it's because I don't feel I need it, or if it's because I'm restricting myself. It might be better for me just go back to the plan for a few days and to feel comfortable with eating that amount of food again until I feel I know why I'm choosing to eat WHEN I eat and WHAT I eat.. Because that's exactly what it means to eat intuitively. If I can't answer any of these questions, then I haven't a clue where I'm at, so there's no point..is there?

The possibility that I might have lost weight, feels good too and it might make me want to have one supplement less or a smaller portion at dinner or one glass of either fruit-juice or soy milk instead of both. So I have to get that notion out of my head. It's only wrecking it. I can't loose any weight. I can feel what it would do to me, if I did. Bad thoughts, bad habits with Anna in the driver-seat. I'll never know if I have or haven't lost weight..But either way, I think I'll just get back to the food-plan until I feel safe again. Because challenging myself at the moment, is only making me think of calories and feel guilt. It's takes stress off as well when I don't have to worry about what I'm going to eat. It's all there and it's all safe.

A beautiful daydream

I sat in the car, on Sunday afternoon, on the backseat, as we drove down from Sandra's back to Orla's. I knew the weekend was coming to an end so the pressure was starting to fall. I was tired but didn't fall asleep. Instead, I ended up having the best daydream ever.

My head was doing the work and it was fun. My body was relaxed and knew it could stay that way, for at least the next 24-hours. What a nice thought.
I didn't force the daydream, it just happened. Over the weekend I had done a lot talking to Trish and Ed about Australia, about the lifestyle and about how much I loved it out there. Driving down, I was so relaxed and enjoying the humming sound of the car, that all this talk, caused me to have visions of how I want my life to be.

I could see myself, my laptop and my backpack filled with my essentials. My backpack, my laptop and myself, being my all (and preferably a few euro's in the bank). That's all I'd need and want. All the other possessions I'd have, would either be thrown out, or stored all in one place. That's where they'd stay until I'd decide when and where I might like to settle, in the very distant future. But not until then, my life would be me, myself and I. Experiencing. Either working hard or playing hard. Doing both for a longer amount of time, wouldn't be good for me, so I'd avoid that as much as possible. Earning some money and meeting people from all over the world and having great experiences followed by a time-out to write, to be alone or isolated for a some days or weeks at a time. In an ideal world, I'd be washing myself in a river and hunting for kangaroo's to throw on the barbie. But that's taking it to a whole different level.
The daydream still continues..

I wouldn't have any stress. I wouldn't need to worry about Anna. I'd eat anything and feel happy about doing so. My laptop would process everything I'm experiencing and writing would become more and more important. I'd get better and better at it too. I'd be able to sit out in the evening, watching the sunset, after writing for 8 hours at a time and not feel exhausted. I wouldn't have to take a time-out, because I'd have enough energy to still feel on top of the world, even whilst being isolated for weeks with maybe just one or two people in my surroundings. The climate wouldn't matter. If it were 30 degrees or 10 degrees..it wouldn't make a difference, because I wouldn't be cold anymore. I wouldn't need 2 or 3 pairs of socks to keep my toes from turning blue. My food would be healthy and weight would too, so I'd be producing enough body-heat. After 8 or 10 hours of peace and typing, I'd have beer and chat to whoever is in my company. It wouldn't matter who it was, because I'd have already met so many great people who I'd class as true friends, who are out of sight but remain in my mind and in my heart, and of whom I hope to meet again and if not, be eased by the knowledge that by meeting these people, our lives had changed for the better. No matter how small or big the influence we had on each other, justing knowing that those people are out there who, in turn, know I'm out there is all I would really need..

In the mind, everything is possible. The imagination can let us travel, to wherever it is we want to be. That place can look and feel just how we want it to. There are no boundaries and there's nobody telling us it's right or wrong or that it should look this way or that way. Whatever we think and create is our own world. They can be images that we will never forget. A place in our mind, that we know does exist and somewhere out there. Our mind hold these images. If we get it see it or not in real life, that's not the issue. Or if we get to feel how we felt in our daydream, that's not the issue either. Because we can see it and feel it, whenever we want and wherever we are. It's unique and there's nobody on this planet who has been there before because it's our own creation. We can try explain it to others and we can try describe it as best we can, but nobody can truly experience that place as the creator itself.

Seeing the life you want is so valuable. Because it shows that you can think outside the box. It shows that you know there's so much more to life as we know it. A lifestyle that seems too good to be true or that's only to be experienced by the people have wealth and status or that should only remain a dream or that should be classed a "not being real" would never exist if everyone thought this way. An attitude like this, is what causes people to settle for what society expects of them and to settle for second best. But why would someone settle something less than they have always dreamed of? Why would someone settle for something less than they know they can have if they give their all?

What the mind believes, the body can achieve. What the mind sees, can be made real. The visions and images have come from somewhere. Our minds have been influenced and have chosen to hold on to these images. Other people can be living their own nightmare but can be living someone else's dream.. If someone is living my dream then surely this means that dreams can be made real.

I've learned the power of the mind and have experienced, first-hand, the whatever the mind believes the body will achieve. I believed I was to stay 35 kilo's. I truly wanted and believed that's how I was meant to be, and I wanted it for the rest of my life. I made it happen and for a while, my mind went beyond my own beliefs..when I weighed 31 kilo's. If I truly believe that I want and can have my dream lifestyle, then surely I can make it happen? If all I want it is to travel and to write and carry the people who are important to me close to my heart, then can't I do this?
Surely I can make my daydream become real..no matter how long it takes for me to get there..? I can only hope and I can only continue to dream.. Not until I'm physically able to hop, rock, write and wrap myself around the world, I'll continue to dream about doing so..

Needles galore

It's Friday morning. Yesterday afternoon I had acupuncture and it was very welcome.
We had a usual little chat before the treatment. He thought I was looking well, again, or even better than last week. I personally, didn't know how the could have been possible, but he must know what he's talking about, more than I do.

I had to sum up the whole weekend, in the space of 10 minutes.. Not that there was any rush or anything, but that's just how it planned out. I told him how worried I was about being so exhausted, even after resting so much and that I felt the trapped pressure in my chest. I told him about my heart not feeling out of sync and about the "mantra" I was using to get through Saturday. He had something to say about them all and they ended up all being related.

He reckoned the exhaustion I felt, was because my body's natural flow, which had been getting back to normal very slowly over the past weeks, was disturbed. The small amount energy I did have, was going to all the wrong places. In a perfect world it would have been used for me to get over the journey on Thursday and to feel less tired. But from the moment I left the house Thursday afternoon, I was having to deal with so many different things and think and focus on so much that this caused my body to prioritize. I needed all my energy to be able to handle the overwhelming feeling instead of the physical exertion. If I hadn't been overwhelmed, my exhaustion on Friday night, wouldn't have been so huge.

The pressure and trapped feeling I had all Saturday was because of being overwhelmed. And because my flow was still out-of-whack that the pressure and stress I was under, mentally, was physically stuck in my chest. That trapped feeling I felt on Saturday I tried so hard to get rid of by telling myself "I'm safe, nothing bad will happen, the food is okay, nobody is judging me, people around me are taking care of me..". I was trying to convince myself of all these things, just to make myself feel better and for the pressure to leave me alone. Unfortunately I didn't succeed. Mr. Acupuncturist said it was so deeper than that.. The only thing that might have released it a bit would have been a good long walk out in the fresh air. But that was impossible, seeing as though I was so tired.

He took a look at my tongue and he could see how much emotional stress I'd been under. That was so strange. He looked at me and said in a way that nearly made me want to break down because I could see he felt so sorry for me: "It all made you very upset". Or in other words..you've been crying your eyes out all weekend and you're still not fully back to normal because of it all. And he was right.

During the treatment I felt like a cushion they stick pins into (not sure of the exact name of such a thing). I didn't count the amount of needles he stuck into me. But it was more than usual. He put some in my chest, which was he'd never done before. This was to release the pressure that had built up over the weekend. I told about my heart feeling strange so he stuck another one in my chest, just for good measure.

I was only lying on the table for 30 minutes, but it was nice and relaxing. It wasn't as long as it normally would be, but not to worry. He obviously knows what's best.
The chat only lasted for a short time, but I was so much wiser afterwards. It's amazing how it all fits together. All the different feelings I was having over the weekend, all had a reason of their own but were linked to another either physical or mental issue that I was trying to deal with. The human body continues to amaze me as does Mr. Acupuncturist who can tell me so much. By him listening to me telling him how I think I am, he in turn tells me exactly how I am, how it should be and how we both want it to be.

Merging

Body and mind, merging into one
The distance between is second to none
The line of division setting like the sun
It's clearly invisible, or soon it will become

The thoughts are the line by which the division is made
In the light of day, the merging shall fade
As the mind take control, thoughts wish they'd stayed
As the body regrets being forced to the shade

Erasing the line, shows that you care
Suddenly your body is your soul and you're aware
The mind remains, and your person is always there
But choosing for both, is showing that you dare

The insignificance of it all, should be erased
The importance should arise and most definitely be phased
As it's you that's still remains continuously amazed
By your body that has never failed, no matter how weak or dazed

Body and mind, cherish them as they are your wealth
Seeing the two as one will encourage good health
Time isn't an issue but it's needed for both to melt
In a positive way for every fiber to be felt..

Tidying & Traveling

Yesterday, Tuesday, I was in a strange strange place. I thought I was okay, when I woke up in the morning. But I wasn't. Not once I had finished my breakfast. First of all, I was still feeling sickly and second, I was still really tired and I had so much to write about, but I didn't have the energy or time and I needed to "save" everything for when I was going to see Diann. Otherwise I would have totally been wiped-out, before seeing her and the session would come to nothing.

I was planning on doing nothing in particular, all morning. All I wanted to do was lie on the couch or in bed, and read my book. But I needed to unpack and sort out some of my things. I started off okay, I was doing things slowly, pacing myself. But I saw more and more things that needed to be sorted. It all needed to be done, as soon as possible so I was getting faster and faster, doing 20 things at once. I was frantically tidying and sorting things out. I was going mental on the inside. The bedroom was a mess, because Eileen never cleans up after herself and I hadn't been there for 4 days, so it had gotten real bad. I ended up cleaning her stuff up and sorting out so much ****. But really I was so tired from the day before, but I was almost possessed. I couldn't stop myself and I knew I had to, but it wasn't enough to get to me to slow down. The more frantic I got, the more mess I saw and the cleaner and tidier everything had to be...

...I had lost all track of time and all I remember was, at one stage, that I just couldn't do anything anymore. I stopped and broke down. I cried like a baby and couldn't move. I was trying to hold myself up and needed to lie down but I wouldn't let myself. The longer I stood there, up against the wall, the more distraught I became. I forced myself back into bed, where I cried but quickly I calmed down again. I had to stop thinking about the room not being tidy. I had to switch off and just relax. I went downstairs, and it was 1 o'clock in the afternoon...

...It was as if time had stood still or the world had stopped, while I was having my little episode upstairs. I didn't feel like me. I didn't know what was happening and I don't why I was overcome with such grief by the mess. I felt awful again. I told Eileen when she came home that I had been busy in the room and I hoped she wasn't going to kill me. I don't know why I thought she would care that I had been sorting out her stuff. But she was thrilled, which was strange because the whole afternoon and evening it played on my mind, the distress I had when I tidying up and the pressure I put upon myself and the grief I felt, that for some reason I thought she'd pick up on it and be mad. But all she saw was a tidy room and she even thanked me. It would have been no skin off her nose if I would have tidied or not.. But to me it was such a massive big deal.

I forgot to talk to Diann about it yesterday afternoon. I should have written instead. I felt it all brewing but I choose to ignore it, because I was going to Diann as well and I didn't want to over do it. Unfortunately it turned out a little different. I know that this episode was the price I had to pay for the weekend I had been through. I was either still living the "fast and stressed" life that I felt I was lived over the past 4 days, or it was the distress from Saturday needing to get out in some way or another and I was suddenly in safe surroundings so I was able to let it go and break down the barrier. I was probably just getting rid of my rage. I know now, that I should just sit down behind the computer and and type a load of nonsense instead. That's a lot more beneficial. I wouldn't have wanted to see myself on a videotape, yesterday morning. I don't think it would have been a pretty sight.

Yesterday evening, after coming back from Wexford, I was feeling okay again. Not too bad, just tired and I wanted to be alone. I had forgotten about the little episode. But then I heard talk about Australia from Eileen. I didn't pick up too much of it, but I wanted to hear it, just to make myself feel miserable again..and mission accomplished.. That's exactly what happened. Tears again. The whole fear of not yet being able to travel and not being able to go and be where I want.

All my dreams..remaining exactly what they are.. just dreams. It was torture hearing Eileen making plans about going over. I'm afraid to talk to her about it, I afraid to properly listen. I don't know if and when she wants to go because I haven't asked. It's almost heartbreaking. It makes me feel so low and sometimes I just can't deal with it. Like yesterday. Back in bed again and I was once again talking myself into keeping things real..the mantra: I'm here for a reason, I need to be here, I will travel again, my time will come, I'm already on a journey. On and on I went, round and round in my head. I had to stop myself from going mad, all over again. I hate being so envious and resentful when I hear of other people traveling. I'm not that kind of person, but sometimes I can't help it. I want to be happy for her. But I NEED to travel so much, myself, that it hurts to know I can't even go to Holland for 4 days without missing my bed.

So quickly my way of thinking changed, from: feeling okay about being in Arklow until I'm better and in full health, to: wanting to jump on the next flight to New Zealand and work for a year and bungee jump everyday, if possible. The space of 3 or 4 hours was all it took, for me to back to my "dangerous" way of thinking. So annoying. One minute doing so well, the next doing the opposite. I can hardly keep up with my head sometimes..it's a miracle I haven't driven myself properly insane yet. Then again, sometimes I do feel like that's where I'm heading.

I'm going to bed shortly. Tomorrow it's another day. I've been awake since six o'clock this morning. Because I was uneasy that I hadn't written for so long.. It's even keeping me from sleeping properly. Things should start to settle down in a few days.. I just need time..

Tuesday 02-12-08

Sitting with Diann yesterday afternoon, I had gone through most of the weekend with her, bringing it all up again and hearing myself saying and admitting things outloud.

When I got to Holland on Thursday night, I knew I shouldn't have gone. It felt so wrong, it felt so awful. Everything about the country stood against me. The motorways, the time obsession, the people. Even the language. I didn't want to be there, at all. It made me see just how different Ireland and Holland are. The speed they live at, is just so fast. Here in Ireland it can be fast, I just haven't been living it and have placed myself outside of any speed that was too much for me. But in Holland I was placed smack bang in the middle of it, and had to deal with it. I was not used to it at all and that's why it felt like a smack in the mouth.

Ma and Diann didn't expect me to go to Holland, for being so worried about it last week, during the session on Tuesday. They thought I'd feel it would be more hassle than it's worth. To be honest, it never came into my head to not go. I stuck to it and got there and back in one piece. It was an eventful weekend, to put it lightly. Looking back, yes it was way too much. Seeing so many people all in such a short amount of time after not seeing them for so long.. It made me so paranoid about the weight I'd put on. Because I could see everybody who looked at me.. I could see in their eyes exactly what they trying to see.. how much weight has she put on? isn't she looking better? what is she doing still in Ireland, she should be working..! It was all going through their minds and the look they'd give would make me feel so ashamed.

Diann said that I'll have to make peace with that, because in years to come, people still might give me that look if they haven't seen me in a while. Diann even gets it, after being recovered for years and years and years (I'm guessing 10). Ma said that Monday night at the airport, she was trying to see if I'd lost weight over the weekend. She couldn't tell, either could I. But it's true that I've not been eating as much as usual. But I don't know if that's because of the different food, for feeling sick or for not needing more food.

I still haven't weighed myself. I had a chance over the weekend. It was there, right in front of me. It would have been so easy for me to hop on, and find out what the "magic" number was. But my head wouldn't have known what to do with it. I was thinking and thinking.. If the number would have been in the late 40's, then that could be good, because then I've only got a few more kilo's to my set-weight. At the moment, I don't feel too fat, so I could deal with a couple more kilo's. Thinking like that, made me scared, because what if I stood on it and it was between 40 and 45, that would mean I'd still have sooooooo many more kilo's to put on, and I don't feel like I'll ever be okay with that. I was overthinking it, so I just left it alone and resisted temptation.

2 or 3 weeks ago, when we were talking about how I've been feel, physically, Diann suggested I get another heart-scan done and get everything else checked-out too. We haven't gotten round to it just yet, but after last weekend, I need some reassurance. Ma said they told us back in July I suffered heart shrinkage. But I don't think I did and I can't remember what went on back then. I think she's exaggerating it a little (sorry Ma), just to make me want to get it checked-out again. I remember it was slower, that's all. But that's besides the point. I'll be getting everything checked out, hopefully, even though I know there's nothing wrong, judging by the way I'm feeling now.. O, there I go again, telling myself I'm okay again... Right I'm not going to go on about it or analyze it too much..

I said to Diann yesterday, that this weekend made me see how "bad" I'm doing, or how "unhealthy" I am. But she disagreed. She said I'm not doing bad, it's just shows the toll anorexia has taken on me. Living the way I lived and developing anorexia at the same time, was huge. It also shows that full health doesn't return after resting for 2 weeks (which a lot of people might think). It took so long for everything to come to a head, back in June, that it will also take so long for my body to feel vital and energized again. I never expected me to still be this far from being back to normal. It shows me that I've damaged myself enough and that I never ever want to do it to myself again. I never want to leave Ireland or my comfort-zone until I'm fully able. There's nothing as bad as being out away from home when you're physically not well, but it's worse when along with that, you're also mentally not well. The combination of the two, is massive.

Diann told me yesterday that she remembers exactly how it felt, when her head wasn't able to deal with people. She said, inside she was screaming, but she continued to work as a psychiatric nurse and pushed herself constantly. She even did course after course as well. She was years and years recovering. Probably because she didn't let herself take a time-out and deal with everything properly.

I don't want to feel like I did last weekend for years and years. My life won't be worth living. So I have to stay here for as long as I need, so I NEVER have to feel like I did on Saturday. Ireland is chilled, and that's how I have to be as well. It's quiet and there's fresh air (not that I get a lot of that), things that I wouldn't have if I were to be in Holland. I've never felt like I did on Saturday, here in Arklow, because I'm at home and it's a different feeling. There are only minor things expected from me.. probably the only thing that's expected from me is that I'm at home. Everything else I do, I choose to do myself. However I'm feeling and acting or whatever I'm doing or being, it's all acceptable. There's no pressure, no stress, no explaining, no judging..nothing.

Diann said that I'm not still recovering without a reason. I'm still dealing with things from the past, that have lead me here. I'm still dealing with new foods and I'm still fighting with myself and challenging myself. I'm still restoring fats, muscle, tissue and energy. Not until all of these things have stopped, and I'll know when they'll have stopped, I'll be feeling that I can take on life again. I'm still learning and feeling new things each week. This means I'm still learning to feel and to recognize what my body needs more and more which, and this in turn, will tell me when it's time. I have to trust myself to know, because I will.

I'm not there, by a long shot. And really I couldn't care less. All I've been thinking about since I got back to Ireland, is how much I need to start focusing on myself again. I have to do everything in might to keep going about everything at my own pace. I have to go back to basics. Back to how I was getting through the good weeks I had, last month, or back in October. By living how I have done, the past 2 weeks, I'm only prolonging everything and making it worse for myself.

If last weekend was what I needed to get myself back on track again, then it's a good thing. I'm not going to worry about work anymore or about time or about where I should be. I know my current condition, and that's all I need to know for now. I'm going to be selfish or else I'll be doing myself more harm than good. I'm the most important person in my world. If I'm not, then what's the point? I'm living and regaining health for me, aren't I? I might sound like a real b****, but I have to be. Diann said I did well over the weekend and that I wouldn't have known what I know now, if I had backed out..

More on the weekend

I was back in Ireland, on Monday night and at home by 10 o'clock. I never thought I would hear myself say that Ireland was home again. Never in a million years. But then again, I never called Holland home either, so I never really had a place where I felt I properly belonged. But Monday night I felt like I was coming home. It was the weirdest feeling and It feels slightly wrong and strange to admit it openly as well.

I was delighted to see Ma at the airport and instantly everything was easy again. I didn't have to say how I was feeling. I didn't have to think about food anymore. I didn't have to talk about food anymore. I didn't have to stress that I wouldn't like it, because my safe foods are at home, waiting for me. I had a supplement drink when I got back home, and I still felt queasy, so it wasn't all in my head and I wasn't making myself sick by my way of thinking. I did actually pick up the bug that Orla and Arno had. (Orla please don't feel bad about it, it's fine, just one of those things..)It was kind of a relief actually, because I had myself thinking that I was never ever going to be able to go anywhere and be able to eat different food without wanting to vomit.. I wasn't going insane after all.. thankfully. Yesterday with Diann, she said not to go beating myself up over that. I know myself and my body better than anyone else and I shouldn't be too hard on myself..

I was so glad the weekend was over and looking back, it was all too much too soon. There were certain moments that were so horrendous and that kept coming back to me. Friday night when I lay in bed, I'll never forget how awful and exhausted I felt. I cried for putting myself through this whole ordeal, but there were no sobs, no heaves, no shrugs or motions.. just tears because my body couldn't do much else. I'll never forget me thinking that I wanted to see a doctor so badly. I couldn't imagine that I was getting stronger because I felt so weak. I didn't see how I could possibly be classed as healthy and strong and feel so crippled at the same time, just for traveling from Ireland to Holland. It actually scared me. Especially me telling myself that I need a doctor to tell me I'm okay. I would usually do my best to avoid going near one. As I lay there I knew that it was going to take me so long to get back to normal again, whatever "normal" is.. I don't really know anymore. I remember saying to myself "I'll just lie here, forever if that's how long it takes, for me feel okay again. It doesn't matter how long, I'm just NOT allowed to put myself under so much strain again".. This was Friday night and by Saturday morning I was a lot better.

I didn't say any of this to Orla or Emma. I was already talking so much about food, and general chit-chat constantly, that I didn't want to bring that along with it. I wasn't able to discuss it or to admit it openly. I would only have worried everyone if I would have been honest. It wouldn't have felt right, so I didn't.

Saturday morning when I was writing on the computer, I was alone and that was so nice. I didn't want to see or speak to anybody. I wasn't able to think about the rest of the day. I was going through so much stuff over the past 48 hours in my head that hearing and thinking about anything else at that moment in time, would just wreck my head. And that's what happened. Poor little Enya was crying and crying. The first time I'd heard her cry since Thursday night. I wasn't feeling too chirpy. To be honest I was down in the dumps, so then I started crying. Enya cried louder which made me even worse and it just went on and on and I didn't know what was happening to me. It was like I was watching myself on a movie screen or something. I could see it all but I had no explanation as to why it was happening. Once she calmed down, so did I. But I felt so bad.

When I went to lie down in the afternoon, I felt peaceful again. I was calm and kept on thinking how grateful I was to have so many people around me who are caring for me and looking out for me and who understand me to the best of their ability. I had to tell myself this, like a mantra, constantly, to feel just a little bit sane. I wasn't driving myself crazy with thoughts. My head couldn't cope with reading a book to distract myself. But I didn't really need the distraction. I needed those 2 hours to become aware of my safety and to try not to scared.

The whole weekend there was so much compassion, understanding, love, hugs and kisses. So much concern and honesty. Towards me, around me and, to a certain extent, coming from me. I had to be as honest as I could, when it came to how tired I was and how awkward I felt and how hard everything was. Even if it was only towards Orla and Emma. It felt so weird to be this way again. But I had to. With Ma everything is automatic and it all goes without saying, there's no need for words. But over the weekend I had to break down the barrier sooner or later, that had taken it's position between me and certain people, somewhere along the line. And I did it, as best I could.

Everybody was so understanding. I knew nobody expected anything from me. Nobody joked about me drinking tea at the party or going to bed early or sitting with a long face. Everyone knew that deep down, I wasn't able for it, but that I got on with it anyway. They took my physical and mental state into account and for that I'm so grateful. Emma, Orla, Arno, Marcel, Trish, Ed, Sandra and Naomi, they all did their bit and made my stay in Holland as much as a "success" as it could be...

The final day

The concluding day of the biggest weekend of my life.. well, it feels that way now, but it probably wasn't..

Monday was so hectic. Or I just made it more stressful and hectic by the way I did things. I was up at around 8 o'clock. Emma and Aiden were coming over to Orla's. I hadn't hardly seen Aiden since I was back, so I needed to make an effort. And I was feeling okay about it. They were at the house at around 10. I still needed to get some shopping done as well, before going back to Ireland and I needed to pack and to sort out some last "preparations" for the present I was putting together for Natasja and her little baby, who I still had to see before leaving for the airport as well. We were leaving at 3 in the afternoon. So I had a lot to do..

Emma came to my rescue though. Taking the pressure off.. She went and did my shopping while I spent some time with Aiden and she helped putting the present together. It was all such a big deal and I wanted to do so much more and put more effort into everything I was doing, but I just simply couldn't. And when the pressure gets to me so much I just totally slow and down and couldn't care less about anything. I then get to the point of just totally stopping. It's the strangest thing and quite annoying too, especially when there's nothing I can do.

I actually wanted to go to some more shops up town and I wanted to buy some Dutch books (instead I didn't get anywhere near town), I wanted to pick Aiden up and have a little rough-and-tumble with him on the floor (instead I just sat there trying to entertain him with my voice alone, not that he needs entertaining, but still..) I wanted to make a "professional creative" present for Natasja (instead I was nearly embarrassed by the end-result of what I put together), I wanted to make a nice lunch for me and Sean with the chicken I didn't finish yesterday at dinner (instead I had 2 slices of toast in the car on the way to the airport).

These might all sound like small insignificant things and maybe they are, but to me they were important. I tried not to beat myself up for not doing everything the way I wanted to. I knew that over the weekend I had already pushed myself enough, or too much, that I wasn't letting myself do it again. I still had to the journey back to Ireland to do as well, before the day was out.

I went to see Natasja and her new born baby Lana. I was so pleased that I made it there and that I was feeling good about it. I wasn't feeling guilty and I was able to be present, chat and hold the baby. I had the energy and the enthusiasm. It was so nice. Seeing babies, either new born or infants, really is always a reality check. It shows what's really important. Because my reaction to so many things over the weekend was: "Who cares? because I certainly don't.." I said this to so many things, in my head, whilst either looking at telly or listening to a conversation. Not caring about certain things, was because I didn't have the strength to care. But then I look at little Enya or Aiden or Lana and everything can make so much sense, for some reason. The whole weekend I've been so reoccupied with myself. Even reading these blogs, you wouldn't even realize that there are a few little souls running around that are so important and need a certain amount of attention.. I didn't do it intentionally and I don't want or mean to be selfish and I do care because seeing the little kiddies makes me so happy. They make it all worthwhile. Even though I'm not always able to show it, they do mean the world to me and even though I don't see them often, I couldn't imagine my world without them.

Anyhow, back to Monday. The journey to the airport was fine. I ate my lunch and had a supplement drink. I very nearly asked Orla to pull over and to let me be sick, but I managed to stay as still as possible to fight the queasy feeling. I hadn't spoken to Orla about it since Saturday and I wasn't planning on either. I didn't know if I had brought it on myself or not. I knew that once I back in Ireland and if I instantly felt better whilst eating, then I had brought it on myself. But I still felt queasy, up until Tuesday lunchtime. And I don't think it's possible to bring on hot and cold flushes, aches and pains in my head and sore skin just by over-thinking things..

The journey.. I needed to eat more than I ate on the journey on Thursday. I was better prepared, but still didn't buy any food or dinner in the airport. I had an extra muesli bar instead. I know it's not a proper dinner, but that's just how it planned out. I wasn't hungry anyhow. Our flight was at half seven Monday evening. The airport in Charleroi is a lot less stressful than Dublin airport.. not that Dublin airport is major airport, but there's a massive difference. Charleroi is smaller too, so we didn't have to walk miles. Sean insisted on taking my bag, wouldn't let me carry a thing and wouldn't let me stand in line, when we waiting to board the plane. I sat there, while the line of passengers got longer and longer. Sean was already standing up near the front and told me to just jump in, when the plane was boarding. So I listened and just kept the whole attitude going of "I don't care if people give out that I'm jumping the que.. who cares, who cares, because I certainly don't" I had to let all my worries go and I felt like a zombie, but in a nice and chilled out way. I was thinking about my bed. I was afraid to think about food just yet. But I knew I was nearly safe again.

The plane ride was fine. I wasn't exhausted getting on, so I was able to laugh at the bad accent of the steward on the microphone telling us just how cold, wet and windy it is in Dublin and how we were going to love it. And of course the jingle: "Ryan air, Ryan, let's fly Ryan air.."
And once we had landed: "Ryan Air is the only low fares airline to have 90% of their flights land on time".. or something along those lines. Anyhow, I didn't care.. I was home..

Relaxing on Sunday

The Follow-up on my weekend in Holland.

Sunday, the day after the party, we were in Sandra's in the morning. I had breakfast, All bran flakes. I must say, even though I was still feeling queasy and flu-ish, it was delicious. It was probably the only thing I enjoyed eating before setting foot back on Irish soil. It was different than my usual yogurt and muesli, so before falling asleep, I was slightly worried how it would turn out and what effect it would have on me (I didn't sleep well, and at one stage I wanted to get up to get sick, but I didn't give in..I wasn't going to give anyone the impression that not only was I anorexic..or recovering should I say, but that I had all of a sudden developed bulimia too.. oh no that wasn't happening..) The morning came and I was in a better place than the day before, so I was able to deal with the challenge of eating a different breakfast. I didn't feel too conscious eating it either. Actually I felt fine even though I was eating with "new" people around me. People with whom I haven't eaten in months and months.. But it was fine.

The drive back down to Orla's was peaceful. Everything that happened after that, was fine. It was because Saturday had been so intense, everything else seemed easy in comparison AND the stress I was under was starting to fall. The weekend was coming to an end and I was feeling it. Monday afternoon me and Sean were flying back, so I knew my bed and my food were getting closer which was reassuring.

Sunday was the day for sleep and rest. I lay on the couch, I ate (and still felt hot and cold, flu-ish, queasy and had to lie as motionless as poss, to stop the food from coming back up again), I went to bed and I actually SLEPT in the afternoon. This was unusual, because I hardly ever sleep when I lie down in the daytime. Usually I just lie there with my eyes closed. But Sunday I slept 2 whole hours and I was so grateful.

By evening time, I had already decided that all the food in Holland was awful. Maybe because I wasn't well or maybe because it was all so different.. or a combination of the two. I don't know, but it wouldn't have mattered what Orla were to cook for me. I sound like an ungrateful b****, and I'm so very sorry, but I can't help that that's how I felt towards the end. It was all too much, every little thing. But mainly the stress. My usual form of attack or defense against stress would be eat safe foods and as little as possible. But in Holland, none of the foods were safe and I wasn't allowed to eat as little as possible and I had to constantly think about what I was going to have for the next meal AND talk openly about it. That's what made it so hard.

Saturday I couldn't wait to be alone and to cry my eyes out. I was almost anxious at the state I was going to be in on Sunday, because that's when the barriers were allowed to come down. But Sunday there weren't any tears. There was nothing. I had no thoughts, just a ringing noise in my ear, from the sound of conversation. I wasn't an emotional mess, as I half expected myself to be. I had gotten passed it. Certain emotions come up at a certain times triggered by certain events and need to be let out at that moment in time. You can't make them come up, just because it's appropriate..if that were the case we'd all be saved a lot of embarrassment in this wonderful life. An example.. When I was still in school and the teacher would make a joke, everyone would laugh. And I'd laugh too. Within seconds everyone would be quiet and would have forgotten the joke and I'd still sit there, tittering and giggling to myself and would wish for nothing more than to be let out of the class so I could laugh my head off a little bit more, without having to hold back. But of course I'd have to for class to finish. Once class was over, and I could laugh my head off, I wouldn't need to..the moment had gone. I know I'm not only one who has had moments like these.. But what I trying to say is that every emotion is linked to a certain moment.. And as with the tears I wanted so badly to shed on Saturday evening, I knew they'd come up again and would be triggered by something else.. and they did, but I'll get to that later on.

Sunday I went to be early, watched some tv snuggled up and all night I sweated out the remainder of the flu-thing I picked up. I had a better sleep that the other nights, since being in Holland. The last night, it was all nearly over..

A 30th Birthday Party

Wednesday morning. It's 4 days since I've been on, the longest I've gone without writing. I haven't had the time or the energy, so I left it. Saturday morning was my last up-date, so I'd best pick up where I left off.

Saturday I ended up writing for around 3 hours. I totally over did it. I didn't really want to stop, I still had so much more, but I couldn't so any more. I forced myself to come from behind the computer. I needed to rest. So it was around 2 in the afternoon and I went back to bed. It was the day of Naomi's 30th birthday party, the initial reason I came to Holland for the weekend. So I needed to be rested and feeling good and I wanted to be up for the party. We were planning on leaving Orla's at around half 6. So I still had enough hours to lie in bed and do nothing.

I lay in bed, for 2 or 3 hours. I started to feel awful and more and more tired, the longer I lay there. I wanted to eat some lunch, but I couldn't stomach anything other than 2 slices of toast. I started to feel flu-ish.. you know the aches and pains, hot and cold, sore skin and stabs of pains in the head. The thought of food just turned my stomach aswell making me want to vomit. It got worse as the afternoon progressed. Orla had been vomiting on Wednesday night and couldn't really eat on Thursday, Arno had it on Friday night. I wasn't too sure if I had picked it up or not. But I knew I wasn't well. The only thing I wanted to do on Saturday afternoon was keep myself under the blanket away from the world, people and anything that required energy. But on the other hand, I knew I had to pick myself up out of it, and start preparing myself for the party AND I needed to eat.

It was nearing dinnertime and Orla wanted to cook something for me. But the thoughts of food just made me feel so sick. I wasn't sure whether or not to tell Orla that I was feeling so s***. For a number of reasons.. To start with, I'm not used to constantly needing to explain how I'm doing and feeling. It feels almost alien for me to say outloud what the thought of food does to me and to say outloud that I'm really not well. Another reason is that anybody who were to hear somebody recovering from anorexia to say that the thought of food is making them feel queasy, would think it's just a lame excuse not to eat. I know that's what Orla thought and I know that's what anybody else who were to hear me say it, would think as well. But I told her anyhow and instantly knew I shouldn't have. She wanted me to eat, so I had some potatoe and a sausage. But I didn't do it for me, I did it for her.. It took so much effort to eat the meal, in my mental haziness and wanting to vomit too. I don't care what anybody thinks, but I wasn't mentally making myself feel ill from food..
I heard myself say the words to Orla, and knew that I wouldn't speak of the subject for the rest of the weekend, and I didn't.

I needed to get ready for the party, and the longer it took, the closer I came to not going. I was producing a constant river of tears and for ages I lay on the floor curled up just crying and crying and trying to make up my mind whether or not I should go. I knew if everyone had gone to the party and I would have stayed at home alone, I would have hated myself and I wouldn't have rested or slept for feeling like a failure. I knew I needed to at least try. Maybe it would be okay. If I didn't try I would never know. And, at the end of the day, it WAS the whole reason I went to Holland in the first place.

I had to coax myself every step of the way and remind myself over and over again, that I'm safe, that there's nothing that can go wrong, that there are so many people around me who are taking care of me, that the world isn't going to stop turning and that I'm allowed to enjoy myself. There's nobody judging and everything will be okay. It was like an extra long mantra.. repeating it constantly. It what I needed to get me through.

We left the house at half six and if Arno hadn't have been in the room when I was putting on my coat, I would have broke down and told Orla to go without me. But I pushed myself out the door and into the car, which was probably the hardest part of the night. I knew there was no turning back and I knew I could be doing myself more bad than good and I didn't know what the night was going to bring.. I was so scared.

The drive to Sandra's was an hour and a half, where we were meeting before going to Naomi's and where we were all staying that night. Emma and Marcel were already there, when we arrived. We headed to Naomi's and the party started around 9.

It was so hard and again I was nervous and terrified. Seeing so many people I hadn't seen since the end of June, all in the space of an hour, was too much. I couldn't make eye-contact with anybody, or else I would have cried. When everyone asked me how I was, I didn't think about what to say but I answered that I was fine, because I didn't want to break down. All the people that I had to be polite to.. so many.. How was I supposed to mingle? I wasn't capable. I felt like there was like I was in this glass cage stopping me from talking properly to anybody other than close family. It scared the hell out of me, the fact that I might be left sitting on my own and a "stranger" might come up to talk to me. Or that I might be sitting on my own and people would think I was weird and stare and see that there was something massively wrong with me.

I didn't want to feel so emotional but there was nothing I could do to stop myself from feeling so bad. I thought that if I wasn't feeling guilty then surely I'd let myself have fun. But the pressure I was feeling, mentally, was huge. It was too big for me to be able to remove it, no matter how hard I tried. I felt so bad and so uptight and so out of place. After a half an hour I wanted to leave. But of course I didn't. I hoped the barrier would rise the more I pushed through it, but it didn't. It stayed there and I kept putting on the front, kept the fake smile on my face and didn't think about how awful I was doing and feeling. The minute somebody left my side and I was left with my own thoughts, I could feel bad things were bubbling. So the more I listened and gave my all to chat as normally as I could about nothing in particular, the longer I was able to stick it out.

There was lots of rose wine and food. I told myself the whole day, that I can have a glass and I have food if I want. Nothing bad was gonna happen. But the state my head in, just one glass of wine would have brought the barriers crashing down and I would have been in floods of tears the rest of the night. I couldn't afford to ruin the "good" I was doing by keeping everything in. I wasn't tempted by the food, because it just made me feel queasy again. I had 2 of my supplement drinks and even they made me feel sick afterwards. I had to sit still and let them go down for the sickly feeling to go away.. Not that I was doing any moving anyhow..
If I wouldn't have felt ill and would have tried some of the food, I would have been challenging myself while not being mentally able to deal with it, so feeling sickly or not, I wouldn't have tried any of the food. And to be honest, there's only so far I was able to push myself in such a short space of time. I sometimes had to remind myself that I'm only human..

It frustrated me so much that I wasn't able to let go. I sat on the same stool all night, Emma made sure I had tea in my cup.. yeah, that's right.. TEA... How bad is that, when I was perfectly willing to drink rose but just not able.. O well.. I survived until 2 in the morning. 3 or 4 people had come up to me, and suggested I go for lie down upstairs. Of course my initial reaction was no way, I can stick it out. I wasn't going to be told what to do, but 2 minutes later I did anyhow.. Still not making eye-contact while admitting that I wanted to scream, cry and sleep the night away.

I went to be for 2 hours. I lay there and lay there. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't cry, I couldn't think. Just nothing. But that was fine. At 4 o'clock Emma came to tell me we were going back to Sandra's. I was pleased because all I wanted was peace and sleep, even though I hardly slept a wink once I was in bed in Sandra's house, but that's besides the point.

My body hadn't been exposed to that amount of noise and that amount of people, in so long that it was probably only normal that I couldn't deal with it properly. Eileen's party last weekend, was totally different. There was noise, but it was music in a large hall. It was 70 people spread out and just dancing around. I never knew the sound of people or the sound of music would have such different effects on me. Eileen's party was close to home as well. I didn't have to make a long journey, I didn't have different food, I wasn't feeling sick, flu-ish queasy and it wasn't like a big "reveal" either.

I had said my goodbyes to everyone, and to Trish and Ed too, who are going back to Australia next week. It was so great to see everyone again, but it was just too much to deal with, all in the one night. I wasn't able to show my enthusiasm, even thought it was in there somewhere. I'm glad I didn't stay at home in Orla's, all alone, because I would have been feeling twice as bad I reckon, for missing out on the party. If I wouldn't have gone, I wouldn't have known how I would have dealt with it. So it's fine. I have no regrets whatsoever.

I had worries, however, that I ruined the party by sitting there, with a face on me like a wet weekend. But then I would only talk myself into a muddle and create problems where there weren't any (I hope) so I had to let those thoughts go.

All in all, Saturday was an enormous "adventure"..maybe too big, but I literally gave it my all. I honestly can't remember the last time I'd had such a bad day and that I felt mentally so distraught. It made me see the difference and the intensity of the anorexia. It was frightening as well as a learning curve.. and there was more going on that day, but again, there's only so much I can deal with..