My suspicions were confirmed today, SEDCAS will be withdrawn soon. My BMI is too high (again it comes back to BMI), my risk factors too low. Essentially I don’t qualify for the ‘Severe’ part of the Severe Eating Disorders team.
How do I feel about this? Honestly? I say it far too often but I don’t know – a total mixture of emotions, some I expected, some I didn’t.
It should be a good thing. Not being ‘severely’ ill is not a negative. If I felt in any way ‘recovered’ I’m sure I’d see it as a positive thing. But I don’t feel ‘better’, I don’t feel like I can continue to get better. I’ve gained weight, yes, but the reality is that I’ve gained weight through binging and drinking. And now that I’ve cut back significantly on both my weight is falling again, and I can’t ignore the fact that I’m pleased it’s going back down. . .
I’m angry with myself. I’ve had well over a year to really use the help on offer to change myself and work towards recovery. I do feel like I’ve tried, but just nowhere near enough. JUST when I feel like I’m making progress and might actually be getting somewhere, it’s too late. I’ve wasted everyone’s time, and a lot of it.
I hate that I feel like this but I feel like I’ve failed in every sense. I’m not recovered, I’ve failed at this attempt to recover when I had all the resources there to really make a go of it. Then on the flip side, I’m not ‘good’ enough at my eating disorder either. My rational mind can see that this statement is ridiculous – an eating disorder is not an achievement and certainly not something I’m proud to have. Maintaining my BMI is a good thing. I’m alive. I’m surviving. But that’s about all I’m doing. I feel like a fraud, again. I should never have been taken on by SEDCAS at all, really.
I’m guessing that being discharged would also mean monitoring would end. No more weigh ins, blood tests, ECGs. . . it would give me a degree of freedom. No more worrying about finding childcare and rushing to and from appointments. No more trying to fit my work shifts around it all. A day off would actually mean a day off. The thought really appeals, but my bloods worry me. I am more aware now of how I feel when my potassium gets low, and manage mostly to keep on top of it that way, but it’s dipped without me realising before (and fairly recently). I suppose the bloods, as unpleasant as they are, act as a sort of safety net.
I’m scared. I don’t want to be, but I am. I don’t know where this leaves me – what happens now? I have two choices; to carry on fighting, or to give up. I want to fight. Giving up now would be pointless and means that anything I’ve gained from this care really would be wasted, but I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to do this alone. I feel totally alone. Maybe I’ve become too reliant on SEDCAS. I think I probably have, but I don’t have anyone else, really. My husband doesn’t understand and doesn’t really appear to want to. I don’t really feel like I could confide properly in any of my friends and even if I could, it wouldn’t be fair to place that burden. My parents just wouldn’t be an option.
Which leaves me, just me.