by Lydia Davies
When the binge episode was over, I felt so humiliated about what I had done, and incredibly guilty for taking what wasn’t mine, that I needed to get out. I could not be sick in her house; she has a little brother and it felt wrong and disrespectful to do so. In a state of complete embarrassment and dread about the consequences of my behaviour, I decided I had no option but to get out and drive home. As I sped along the road completely oblivious to how terribly and carelessly I was driving, I could barely see the road. My eyes were hazed over and the only thing I could see was the purge at the end of the tunnel. I was nearly home and swung round the bend of the dark country lane. I remember feeling like I was going too fast, I felt a little out of control, then I felt a lot out of control. I attempted to slam on the brakes when it hit me how fast I was going, and I don’t know exactly what happened next, but I can guess I hit the accelerator rather than the brake. There was a heavy thud that vibrated right through me as the left wheel hit the bank along the side of the very narrow road. Next thing I knew I was flying through the sky and my mind was shouting, ‘THIS IS IT THEN. THIS IS IT.’ It happened scarily quickly. Spinning through the air upside down in my car was the craziest feeling – adrenalin pumped through my body, and thoughts screamed through my head. This changed in a split second when the car came smashing down upside down onto the road. I heard an almighty crash of the car landing, and the glass shattering into a million shards.
I woke up upside down in pitch-black silence. The first thought that came to my head was that I needed to get out of the car in case it exploded. I used my arm to smash away the remaining glass from the window, and crawled out. I could not believe what had just happened and was in shock. I ran away from the car screaming for my mum and dad. It was a good half-hour walk down dangerous country lanes to my house, but I was too scared to re-enter the car to find my phone in case of a fire or something else hitting it. I started jogging in the direction of home. The only sound was my screams for help and my parents. Tears flooded across my cold face as I ran as fast as I could, struggling to breathe and calling out for help the whole way. There was no one to hear my cries, though. I was alone and anything could have happened. As if that was not dangerous enough, I then proceeded to flag down the first car that passed. A man stopped, and I climbed into the back of his car, confused and desperate. Luckily he was not a serial killer and drove me home, where I got out and screamed for my mum and dad once more till they opened the door.
8 September 2012
My blog post
LIFE
My serious lack of appreciation of life came crashing down on me (literally) last night.
I have realised how numb I have become to living life. I have realised how trapped in my own head and thoughts I still am. There has to be more to life than living in fear and regret of every small decision and choice I make. And thinking and thinking and thinking and never stopping thinking and analysing every single thing I do or move I make. Down to the sound of the rhythm of my blinking and breathing. It’s not fun. It’s not living. It’s not being alive. It’s being trapped. Trapped. Dull. Bored. Stuck. Not moving. Static. Confused. Unappreciative. Ungrateful. Caught up. Closed off. Long. Watching time. Slow. Lazy. Unmotivated.
I believe an angel saved me last night. I know who she is. She protected and shielded me completely, which is quite a miracle. She followed above me as I ran home, until I was there safely (amazingly). I feel extremely undeserving of everything I have … including life. But perhaps there is more meaning, reason and purpose to my life than I can see. Perhaps that’s why I was spared (again).
It should not take a near-death experience to scare someone into realising what they’ve got and how lucky they are. And it most definitely should not take three. In one year. It just shows me how dazed I am. Glazed over and uncaring about everything. I felt no real fear. My mind was elsewhere, as always. And I’m being honest when I say that. A couple of years ago if I had had the same experience I would have been so shaken up and affected by it I’d have been a complete wreck. But I am already such a wreck that there isn’t much more wrecking that can take place.
Anyway, I have learned. I have the most amazing family and friends, for supporting me and understanding me and listening to me. Life cannot and should not be taken for granted. I have been given another chance so I must be so grateful. I have a guardian angel. I must start doing things that make me genuinely happy. I must re-learn fear. Appreciate life.
14 September 2012
My blog post
The good, the bad and the ugly
I’ll start with the good …
I’M ALIVE
I have the best friends I could ever wish for
My family are amazing
I have a warm bed in a warm house
My life is extremely fortunate in many senses (and I must remember this)
I can see, hear and speak (maybe not feel, but I’m working on it)
The bad and the ugly …
I’m still not myself
2012 has been the worst year of my life, so far
I have lost a lot of things I worked so hard to get
I put pain, stress and pressure on the people I love the most (I’m sorry)
I cannot say sorry as many times as I want to
I cannot show I am sorry exactly how I want to
I have uncontrollable thoughts and my mind is impossible to switch off
I’m quite possibly mad
My consumption of alcohol had increased to the point where I was drinking every day. When I saw friends we would go to the pub, or drink wine at each other’s houses. My new mechanism for dealing with my problems and the voices was to plaster them over with alcohol. This habit confused everyone, as alcohol has such a high calorie content, and I was happy to drink copious amounts of it. The difference between the calories in alcohol and food, though, was that alcohol made me feel different, drunk, and helped me forget; food, however, made me remember how fat and ugly I was, and always made me feel horrible after. These alcohol-infused nights usually ended in an almighty binge-and-purge session. Alcohol enhances sensations, including hunger. Nothing was more attractive to me than the thought of gorging on everything in the kitchen when drunk. The best part about it was that I was so drunk I didn’t care or worry about what I was eating. Purging was also easier due to the amount of drink in my system. The worst part was the following day. If you have ever had a bad hangover, times that by ten and you have a food-over. Waking up with sick-splattered pyjamas, a hugely bloated stomach that resembled an 8-month pregnant woman, agony jaw, head, oesophagus, ulcers blistering the mouth and tongue, the most unquenchable thirst you can imagine, and a churning gut. All those feelings on top of a ghastly hangover equal an extremely painful and uncomfortable day; until it hits 6 p.m. and it’s acceptable to drink again.
18 September 2012
A letter from me to my parents:
Dear Mum and Dad,
Firstly, sorry.
I have a disgusting confession. I wish I hadn’t, but I did. I drank wine from the fridge. I am so sorry. I feel like a horrible thief. It wasn’t mine. I shouldn’t have done it. I couldn’t just have one glass. Lost control. Then ate all the biscuits, all the butter, all the jam, all the bread. Chocolate. Yuck. I can’t believe it. I can’t stop. I didn’t even want to eat. I had a good supper. I’m trying SO hard. I just feel helpless. Maybe I could start telling you what I want and I am not allowed to prepare my own food? I can’t do this for much longer. As much as my mood has improved – how I really feel hasn’t. My stomach is absolute agony on a daily basis because it’s so bloated, stretched and full. I can’t sleep because of it. This is due to binging, and I’m sure alcohol. My skin is lumpy and in rashes on my neck, stomach and back. I have headaches, feel sick and just lazy and shit.
I hope to God I don’t wake up tomorrow because I know how unhappy I am going to be; it’s unbearable. It’s even harder trying to be happy when I’m really, really not.
Telling you today that I have a problem with drink was so shameful. I have let the whole family down now in every possible way. I hate myself. If I could switch lives with anyone, or just not be here any more, I would in a second.
I am SICK of this happening to me. I am sick of my life and myself. I am sick of upsetting the people I love. I am sick of being trapped in this absolutely disgusting body.
Tomorrow I am changing. I can’t cope any more. I feel by myself (although you and everyone offer me so much support – thank you). But I feel I am stuck as myself. Going nowhere. Achieving nothing. Ruining everything. The physical and emotional pain are too much. I’m just desperate for it to end. But I am scared of the future, and don’t know where I am going. Without a set aim I can’t achieve anything. Ergh, I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate my repulsive greedy gluttonous self. Why can’t I be as good as you/the rest of the family?! I’m sorry I can’t. I wish more than anything I could. I am a disgrace. A horrible, horrible beast. I’ve tried to take some tablets (not too many, so I’ll be fine); hopefully I might just get a long sleep.
Probably don’t talk to me/see me tomorrow because I know how terrible and disgusted I will feel when I wake up. I am scared to wake up because of this.
I love you both so much xxo
9 October 2012
From the Eating Disorder Service, NHS
Dear Dr ***,
I understand that Lydia has not recently attended her appointments with our service and was consequently asked to contact us by 16/10/12 if she wished to receive any further support from us at this time.
You will be aware that when I last met with Lydia (01/08/12) for a psychology review appointment she reported a good level of coping. She described her mood as upbeat and reported no suicidal ideation and little emotional reactivity. She also denied any recent episodes of binge eating or purging and said that the self-harm was limited to the dietary restriction; in this respect, Lydia reported following a regular though highly restrictive eating pattern (no breakfast; beans, salad and soup for lunch and dinner; and a couple of glasses of wine most days).
At her psychology review appointment Lydia attributed the improvements in her mood, the disordered eating behaviours and weight to the prescribed antidepressant medication. She also explained that with such improvements she no longer felt there was a clear rationale for undertaking the planned psychological therapy; that is, in the context that the preliminary treatment goals she had identified were to improve her understanding and management of her emotional experiences and to overcome the binge eating. In this respect, Lydia understandably presently experiences the dietary restriction as egosyntonic; as such, whilst it was explained to her it is not possible to address the binge eating in isolation, she has consistently been open in expressing she is not presently motivated to address the dietary restriction. At her psychology review appointment Lydia expressed surety about her choice not to proceed with the planned intervention and declined to complete a decisional balance analysis.
At her psychology review appointment it was unclear whether the antidepressant medication was to some extent blunting Lydia’s emotional experiences and therefore understandably reducing her motivation to engage in treatment. Alternatively, she might be continuing to experience high levels of emotional pain but feels for the present time unable to approach treatment and did not feel able to directly voice this. If the latter suggestion more accurately captures Lydia’s current experience, I would be concerned about the continued risk she potentially represents to herself, particularly in the context of the previous, multi-impulsive features to her presentation; namely, the binge eating and purging, alcohol use and recent history of suicidal ideation and suicidal/para-suicidal behaviours. In this respect, I am pleased that Lydia has expressed some willingness to re-engage with our service. I also hope that through attending an appointment with ******* she will be able to further authentically discuss her current experience and any continued plan; namely, her dietetic appointments and outpatient psychiatric review appointments. I also anticipate that her appointments with ******* will support Lydia to consider how best to manage the risks represented by any residual behaviours, including ongoing arrangements for any required medical monitoring.
If further to re-engaging with our service Lydia wishes at any point to revisit the option of psychological therapy, I would, of course, be willing to meet with her to discuss this possibility further to a re-referral from you or ********.
It was a pleasure to albeit briefly work with Lydia and I hope to be able to be of assistance to her in the future if required.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Dr ******* *****
30 October 2012
A letter from me to my parents
Dear Mum and Dad,
Firstly, SORRY. I am so unbelievably sorry I have already made this past year absolute hell for you both. And this just tops it off really. I bet you never thought I’d turn out to be such a problematic child. I’ve always wanted to make you proud of me more than anything. And I know I have failed. I have been trying really hard but I know it’s not good enough. Lately I have felt defeated and like I really don’t belong in your home. My horribly out-of-control behaviour happens mainly here, and I hate that it’s always you who get affected by it. You have been the best parents I could ever ask for and although I am hardly able to show it any more, I am so grateful. I am going to try so hard from now on to make your lives easier and happier. The way they should be. I have been taken over by all-consuming selfish thoughts which have contributed to the person I have become. Selfish, greedy and horrible. I want to be selfless, giving and kind, though, more than anything. Especially to you because you have put up with so much of my shit. I am going to help more around the house. Not answer back or shout and try my hardest to resist the temptation of bingeing and purging. I am going to save money and pay you back for the car (in instalments) and put my determination into making all our lives better, by setting goals and working to achieve them.
I can’t tell you how sorry I am or how much I love you because it is so much.
Lydia xo
2 November 2012
From the Eating Disorder Service, NHS
Dear Dr ******,
I reviewed Lydia in clinic on 22 October 2012 with ****** *** (Senior Dietitian). Lydia had not been seen at the EDS since July 2012. She is maintaining a slightly higher weight and reports her mood has improved due to medication and having some work to keep her occupied. She has requested discharge and monitoring via her GP. Lydia declined to be weighed but she appears to be a similar weight as at the last weighing, which would be a BMI of 15–16. She continues to restrict her intake, having a diet of around 600–900 kcals per day of soups and salads. She drinks some alcohol and binges on average twice per week, after which she vomits. She continues to be very concerned about weight and shape and the kcals in the food she eats. Lydia’s parents got in touch in September to alert us about a RTA that Lydia was involved in. She was staying at a friend’s house and binged on food from the kitchen. She had been drinking and felt so guilty about what she had done that she left the house and tried to drive her car home but crashed it. The police breathalysed her but she was not found to be over the drink-drive limit, though she thinks she probably was. No further action is to be taken by the police on this matter.
Lydia feels her mood is better, which she believes is partly due to working most days in Monsoon in Reigate. She does not wish to continue being seen at our service and said she had started to see a cognitive hypnotherapist privately and thought this might be an interesting approach to getting help. She does not want to be monitored at our service but would be willing to be seen monthly at her GP’s surgery to have bloods taken and for weight monitoring. She does not wish for us to arrange a discharge review at her GP’s surgery, but requested we write a letter informing her GP of her discharge.
Yours sincerely,
Dr ***** **
Consultan
t Psychiatrist
It was around Christmas 2012, and I felt so different than I had done the previous year. The glitter seemed dull, the lights were not so bright, the excitement was half-hearted, and I wasn’t really looking forward to it, to be honest. I was completely out of control with my eating and knew that this day of food was going to be one of the biggest struggles I had faced all year. I love the smell of Christmas food, and I could clearly remember how amazing the parsnips were the year before. What didn’t help is that we had Christmas at home, and home is the place when I lose control the most. I feel on edge but too comfortable there. It is my habitat and it’s as if no one sees me when I am behind the closed doors of my house. I turn into some kind of animal, all emotions are let loose, all inhibitions lost. I cannot walk into my own kitchen at home without considering a binge. I cannot walk into the bathroom after eating anything without considering a purge. I drank too much champagne (again) before Christmas lunch was served. I can’t say I even remember it, but I know I ate way too much, and I remember sneaking in and out of the kitchen long into the afternoon, and then in and out of the bathroom trying to rid myself of the food I had not deserved. I hated that day, and felt selfishly envious once again of everyone else’s enjoyment.
24 December 2012
My blog post
This time last year I wrote a blog about everything I love about Christmas.
This time this year I am going to be a depressing old toad and write a blog about everything I hate about Christmas …
Turkey. Chocolate. Meat. Meat. Meat. Gravy. Mince pies. Christmas pudding. Brandy butter. Cake. More chocolate. Food full stop. Bet no one even really likes turkey anyway.
Money. Biggest waste of money there ever was. Don’t actually need half the things we give or get really.