It’s two months since I wrote this: Four months on the sofa
Today I read back over that post to see how things have changed over the last two months.
Two months ago my mum had just returned to work, but I was at the start of a downward spiral which I am still unable to get out of. The lies have got bigger, I am eating less, my weight is still dropping.
I am physically a lot worse than I was then. Now I have much less energy, I am weaker, colder and in pain. I feel much less able to fight. My diet has got yet more restricted. I am struggling to eat things that I managed to then.
There are no real positives. Everything is worse. Two months ago I was still able to go out, I walked every day (I shouldn’t have been, but I managed to), but now I couldn’t manage that even if I wanted to. I am largely housebound, and only really venture out with my mum to drive me. Even that is too much sometimes. The short walk from the car park to Primark was too much last week.
Seeing people is difficult. A friend called in last week, I appreciated it, but talking to someone for an hour exhausts me. I can put on a front for a little while, but it drains me. I have got more anxious again. I struggle to make decisions. I can’t read any more, my concentration has gone. I can no longer be left alone, my mum is having to take yet more time off to care for me.
Today I have hit my lowest ever weight. I am trying to avoid being admitted to a medical ward. But if I keep losing weight that is inevitable. I don’t want to end up too ill to be admitted to an eating disorder unit when a bed finally becomes available.
I don’t know how long this can go on for.