I fucked over my life in an entirely new way - Agoraphobia! At first I would panic if I had to walk down certain streets. Then I couldn't go more than 500 meters from my house. Then I couldn't answer the phone or the door. Even to people I knew.
And as you can imagine not being able to talk to anyone on the phone or the internet or see anyone in person at the benefits office or go into work I was living a pretty stoneage existance for a while. When you're hoping they send a bailiff round because of your unpaid bills just so you can ask for help with your empty cupboards and unfilled prescriptions - it's pretty bad. Shameful and squalid and a big knock to my sense of self-reliance. There was depressive psychosis and very confused suicide attempts which led to lots of bad noise and attention from doctors and mental health workers.
I'm better now though. I can write coherently and I've even started drawing and sculpting again. I've gone cold turkey on the antidepressants (dont try this at home kids) and my tenancy ran out so I left the boyfriend and moved back in with the parents. I sold some more art. I'm getting my life back together and one day I may even get out of debt.
Well, maybe that's a bit optimistic.
Anyway, that's where I've been in my absence.
I'm going through one of my good phases where I don't indulge in reading eating disorder related material. Which is always for the purposes of triggering myself, no matter how much I pretend its legitimate research. I consistantly gain and lose the same 10lb like a normal person and I have virtually no 'bad foods'. I'm not effective or happy but I'm functioning and grateful.
It would be egotistical to apologise for my lack of posts and coments, but I do apologise for my unnanounced absence. I think about those on my friends list often and even if I don't always comment I am glad to read your posts. I've learned more about myself by reading ED blogs, journals and scientific papers online than I ever have on the therapists couch.