All posts by Dee

Still A Bit Broken

I’m just checking in. I promise with every bit of me that I’ve not quit, given up or stopped blogging even though every piece of evidence points to the contrary.

I’m still here…she shouts into the silence! I know.

I’m just still really really knocked off my feet by this Godawful ear infection that’s been raging for almost two weeks. I’m on my third lot of (really strong now) antibiotics and as of Thursday they hadn’t managed to stem the infection, although the (also very strong) anti-inflammatory drugs have thankfully brought the swelling down, around my neck and face.

At its peak, I could barely speak, because my face and neck were too swollen to move my jaw. I couldn’t turn my neck. I was trying to suck tapioca from a teaspoon just to get some food inside me because one of the drugs couldn’t be taken on an empty stomach. The other one said take two hours after food, but I was in so much pain I could never work out which pill to have at what time, and so I ate the odd bit of rice pudding here and there and hoped for the best. It was awful.

Anyway. I’m going in the right direction. I’m not in much pain now, although I can’t hear a thing on the left side except the pounding inside my head and a relentless crackle inside my ear. I’m just exhausted though. I’m nowhere near ready to go back to work but I don’t have the luxury of time for a gentle convalescence, I’ve been off long enough. It’s complicated, but I’ll just have to do the best I can. If that means preserving my energy by not being quite so vocal in here for a bit, that’s just how it has to be.

I walked the 500m or so to the post office yesterday, and spent the whole time I was waiting to post my parcel wondering how I was going to make it back home again. I was wiped out. I’ve missed a weekend at Foxy Lodge with my girlies this weekend which I was so upset about but I just wasn’t well enough to get there.

Today I had every intention of writing a proper post for Monday, but being Mother’s Day and all, I brought Mum across for the afternoon. And today that’s been challenging, for all sorts of reasons. And now I’m exhausted again, and don’t have much of a post cobbled together for you.

I could summarise…it’s been utterly fucking wretched. My eating has been based around whatever I’ve fancied that I could suck on – sadly Haagen Dazs fulfilled the brief so there’s been a fair bit of that consumed, I’m not gonna lie. I justified it by telling myself I couldn’t open my mouth wide enough for broccoli.

So yeah. Now I say it out loud…

Things may be a little slow around here for a while. If I’m going to have to spend wisely in terms of my energy reserve it’ll have to be work first – I need to pay the bills – followed by family stuff with whatever I have left over split between everything else. I know you’ll understand, if I’m dead on my feet and have to prioritise sleep over writing.

I hope you’re all okay – Nicola and Kayleigh are both back and active again on their Shitbird pages.

Me…? No, not yet. Still haven’t been near it. Bite me 🙂

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So It Seems…

…that the three days I didn’t make it out of bed for fear of keeling over at the top of last week weren’t due to a tummy bug at all, but actually symptomatic of a brewing ear infection, which has now really taken hold – I have the kind of ear pain that I can’t even find the words to describe.  It just hurts like a bitch, and it’s relentless.

I’m aware it must feel like one long excuse as to why I can’t summon a blog post again – trust me I’m desperate to get back into my usual cadence of three times weekly but I can’t be creative or funny or entertaining when I can barely see straight so please bear with me. I’ll be back as soon as I can 🙁

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How Doesn’t Matter, Right?

Well, it’s day four. And I’m as rough as toast, but that doesn’t take away the fact that it’s day four, not day one or two on a loop because it’s all gone tits up.

Day four, helped along by the Gods of Skinny who figured I might not be trusted to pull this off on my own, so they lobbed a tummy bug in my direction. I’ve been in bed for the last two days, in between wobbly yet often very swift visits to the bathroom. I’ll spare you the detail, and I’ll definitely survive, but I feel like all kinds of crap right now so please excuse the brevity of this post.

If I’d not had the enforced hiatus recently I would’ve just written a note to teacher and made my excuses but I wanted to check in, because I know you’re all out there willing me on, and it matters.

So, my update is that I haven’t eaten anything I shouldn’t have eaten. Which is fucking ironic when you consider that as we speak I have a very much accelerated window between shit going in one end and coming out of the other. Technically whatever I eat isn’t hanging around long enough for any calorific impact to take root and I could’ve gotten away with murder this week, but I haven’t even tried.

Anyhow. Squinting at this with words dancing all over the page isn’t helping, in fact it’s making my headache more pronounced than ever so please excuse me whilst I disappear back under the poorly blanket and focus on feeling smug about getting to day four.

It’s on…I’m just on the sub’s bench. I may try and write more tomorrow if I feel a bit brighter but for now I’m saying g’night 🙂

Day four…just sayin’…

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I Don’t Need To Know

So yesterday was spent in a flurry of activity, in a bid to keep so busy I didn’t have time to get all bent out of shape as the food fuckery screeched to an abrupt halt. I went to bed on Saturday evening having done that thing where I’d shovelled in as much food as humanly possible because the sky was obviously going to fall in on Sunday morning when I woke to my new regime. Yes, I’m raising my eyes to Heaven too.

First day out of the traps then. It was okay, as first days go. I didn’t wake to a sense of excitement and determination, but neither did I wake in a vile mood because the chewing had to stop. I just got on with it, without a fuss. I didn’t feel very well actually, so that helped. There were a few moments in the day where I thought I’ll just…but I didn’t just anything, and all things considered it wasn’t a bad day. I cooked a healthy dinner, and I didn’t snack.

I went to the supermarket and put things in my trolley that I had no desire to eat ’til I popped. Yes, such foods exist, like kale. I bought kale. That’s dedication right there, you’ve got to give me that. I don’t mind it, tossed in a little garlic infused olive oil, with pine nuts and goats cheese but since I can’t really eat any of those things in sufficient quantity to make it taste good, it simply tastes like old feet in a bag.

I’ve  set myself up for the week, I mean I’ve even chopped endless vegetables and sealed them in zippy bags so I can’t wheel out the ‘can’t be arsed when I get in from work’ card.

What I still haven’t done though, is been on the scale. I’ve been on a five week long binge and I’m just not ready for the news it’s going to deliver, you know? This very fragile ceasefire between the part of me that wants to eat all the right things in the right quantities and the part of me that wants to eat whatever the fuck I want might take too big of a hit if my world is rocked by a number bomb. I’m not risking it.

One of my closest friends was empathising with me last week as I talked about pulling myself out of this hole, because she’s put half a stone on in the last six months. I know it’s all relative, and that’s a lot for her, but as someone who could put half a stone on in a fucking afternoon I don’t even need to see the number. I feel bloated, sluggish and unfit. I haven’t gone all the way back to ground zero but I would have got there in the next ten minutes if I hadn’t found a way to apply the brakes. So I know it’s going to be horrible.

The thing is, there are so many other measures that I can’t ignore, like the way my back is killing me, and my ankles go into meltdown when I’ve walked Charlie-dog around the block, the actual number means bugger all anyway. I’ll keep a watching brief on the ones I can’t get away from until the ceasefire is established and holding, then I’ll take the sucker-punch from a position of strength.

Until I feel ready, I don’t need to know. But I’m at least out of the traps…day two beckons 🙂

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And So It Continues…Just One More Day

I’m still trying to find the loose end that’s making my whole self unravel. Maybe I ate it thinking it was spaghetti, I mean there’s so much food sneaking past my lips it wouldn’t be too hard to miss the fact that I’m actually eating myself.

We did a team building day in the office yesterday and we kind of had to draw out our life in ten minutes on a flip chart. The brief was to be completely honest…oh fuck. That’s never going to end well is it, for a girl with no filter?

I drew a heartbeat right the way across the page, kind of like a heart monitor. I put all the things that make me happy on the peaks of my heartbeat and all the things that make me sad at the lows. All my happy things were friends and family, and handbags and holidays…writing my blog and hanging out in these pages. The lows were jobs I’d hated, and general life bleurgh.

I’m so used to being freakishly honest with you lot, it felt like the most normal thing in the world to talk about food too, and how come it was riding the peaks but also lurking in the depths of the lows. The best of times and the worst of times. How it makes me happy but also very sad. How when I’m over-eating I’m happy because I’m eating, but sad at the same time because I’m not in control. And when I’m not eating I’m sad because I’m not eating but I’m happy at the same time because I am in control.

Then I looked around and realised that every other flipchart life story on the wall had life events and career paths. Mine was the only one with cake. And reading all that back doesn’t make me feel any less of a fucking basket case. I was at work, for fuck’s sake. Not here. Here I can say shit like that…probably not so much so in the office, right? Bet they’ll all be locking up their emergency biscuits from now on.

Anyway, that’s kind of how my week’s shaping up.

I’m at the gin festival on tomorrow with my boy…I’m going to make that my last day of fuckery. I bought him the tickets as part of his Christmas present and we’ll have a really good laugh and hopefully try some artisan gins and specialist tonics. I have no doubt that we’ll stagger home on the train feeling three sheets to the wind and food will definitely be consumed so there’s not even any point in pretending that today will go according to plan.

But Sunday, with you lot chomping at my heels and making me listen to good sense…well. I’m going for a reboot. I so want to pull it off and get back to a world where my every waking thought doesn’t involve food. Or even if it does, a world where I can stick my fingers in my ears and ignore the Asshole voice.

Not before time, in fact way overdue…

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