This week my mum returned to work after 9 weeks off caring for me.
After weeks of having her around all the time, it is strange to be alone again.
In many ways I have returned to my pre-Christmas life, day after day, alone, sitting on my parent’s sofa.
For the first time I have just read back over some of my blog posts from that time, and I am shocked by how depressed I sound. I write about how scared I am, about heart palpitations, being alone and helpless. I wallow in self-pity and look enviously on the lives of others.
That was nearly three months ago now. So have things changed? Have I improved?
The honest answer is I don’t know.
In some ways I am feeling better than I did in November and December. I am on anti-depressant and anti-psychotic medication, which has reduced my anxiety and lifted my mood a little. I hadn’t realised how badly sleep deprivation was affecting me and now I am sleeping well, I feel better.
I have structured my day better, and have found constructive past-times to fill my time. I am eating meals at more regular times.
But, my weight has continued to fall. I am now at my lowest ever weight. Am I eating more than I was in November? No. I am simply lying more. It has become part of my routine to take food out of the cupboard, hide it in my room and dispose of it outisde the house later. I feel trapped by my lies. I feel overwhelming guilt. I hate lying. But the thought of eating everything on my meal plan is just too much. I cannot do it. I still feel scared and uncertain about what is going to happen.