Blackwood River Clinic: a Summary

I’m back! Oh, you didn’t even notice I was gone? Okay then…

I think I may have promised that I would write an entry for every day that I was at the clinic and post them day by day when I got back, but that only happened for the first few days. The first few days were incredible. I learnt so much I thought that this experience was going to be life-changing. But then the learning kind of tapered off in favour of meditation and visualisations and stuff. So instead, I am going to write this new, generic entry about my time there, and then I will post some new content based on the notes that I took on the useful days.

All in all, the journey was good. I made a friend (which is handy since I lost another while I was there), had a whole month off work, got to see lots of animals, found myself getting into playing badminton… lots of good stuff. The not-so-good stuff: I didn’t successfully quit sugar (my whole reason for going), I didn’t manage to establish a healthy routine, and one of the therapists pushed me into something that I really wasn’t comfortable with at all.

There was eight of us heading to the clinic that Sunday morning: six guys and two girls (with me being one of them). I got breathalysed and my bag searched, then got to hang out and wait for the bus. I was the first one processed, and the next few people introduced themselves to me as they came through after being processed themselves. The kicker is that every bloody person there smoked, except for me.

The drive was nice and long with a stopover for lunch. I listened to my iPod, ate the lunch that the clinic provided for our trip, and bought what I had hoped would be my last chocolates from the petrol station where we took a break. We arrived at the clinic in the rain and were given the keys to our rooms. The accommodation was devised of five independent blocks, three of them being rooms with their own bathrooms and walk-in-wardrobes. The guys were allocated to one block, us two girls allocated to another (I stayed in room 8, while the other girl stayed in room 7).

There were lots of rules for me to get used to, like no eating food in the rooms, leaving the accommodation by 9:15am (at which point the gate between the accommodation and the clinic itself gets locked, as they are two separate entities and there are strict rules allowing them to operate), clearing out the kitchen bins daily, etc.

I don’t have my notes with me as I write this, so I can’t be certain of which days things happened, but one of the first few days was incredible for me. I learnt so much about trauma and how it is important to treat the symptoms rather than the disorder. The main therapist (who we had each weekday morning) explained how mindfulness was the only thing that could assist us in controlling our response to something that might be a trigger. Finally, someone gave me a valid reason for learning this stuff! I felt like I wanted to run home and shout, “I finally get it!”

To begin with, I wasn’t very sociable. I was trying to do my shakes, so I had no reason to venture into the kitchen except to drink my shake and take my drugs. There was a television in the main kitchen block, along with the dining area, but I didn’t want to inflict my company on other people. I finally ventured out to watch TV with someone (the other girl had brought two hard drives: one of television shows, one of movies) and found myself watching something that I thought was poor quality, but later discovered it was actually the TV that made it seem that way. The other girl there mentioned that it was nice to see me out there with them though, so I resolved to try again.

Eventually I got comfortable with everyone there. I watched TV with them sometimes, played Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit, said good morning to people as I saw them each day… I learnt to be sociable and not hide away in my room (which is a partial contributor to me not writing a blog entry every day).

For privacy reasons, I won’t go into the back stories of all of the patients there (what happens in group therapy, stays in group therapy), but here’s a general guide of the other patients:

The Girl
I made friends with the only other female there. When it comes to social anxiety, females are usually the worst for me because I can just never really make that connection. With guys it’s much easier. Not entirely sure why. But we got along well, went for a few walks in the mornings (trying to establish a healthy routine, but we both sucked at it) and remain friends after the clinic. My husband and I gave her a lift home on the final Thursday of our stay (we left because everyone else was leaving).

Guy One
The first guy to leave our little group was a gardener with a drug history. He was a total crack up, getting into fits of giggles with one of the other guys there and singing along to music whenever possible. Unfortunately he forgot to take his medication and slipped into mania, where he punched a hole in his room’s wall, breaking his hand. I believe he was taken to another hospital afterwards. This was in week one.

Guy Two
The second guy to leave did so as he had only planned to be there for the two week course anyway. He had just returned from a four week mindfulness retreat in Thailand, so was well ahead of the curve. His history was also in drugs. He was a very positive person who really embraced his new lifestyle. I hope to see him again in today’s group session being held at a local private hospital.

Guy Three
The third guy to leave did so in week three. An alcoholic, he was caught out purchasing and hiding alcohol, apparently drinking most of the time that we were there. I was really disappointed as I had felt so positively that he could make the changes he needed to make, but it became apparent later that he was not ready to be helped and he had a negative attitude towards the clinic, and was particularly mean to the girl there.

Guy Four
One of the patients was an older, deaf man also suffering from alcoholism. He had a tendency to say everything he was thinking, and farting regularly without saying anything to excuse himself. During one badminton game, he provided amusing commentary on me and a nurse against two of the guys. He left midday on the last Thursday due to needing to return home to look after his mother-in-law.

Guy Five
Also leaving midday Thursday was another guy with a drug history who was suffering particularly badly because his wife, who he has been with for ten years, is battling cancer. On Friday she was due for finding out the results of her latest scan, so he wanted to leave early to be there with her. He was the scariest guy to me initially, due to his appearance and some quiet mentions of what he may have done to people in the past, but he ended up being nice and told me that I was too hard on myself.

Guy Six
The winner of “Survivor Blackwood” was the youngest of the bunch who couldn’t leave the clinic for legal reasons. He has a drug history and is surprisingly mature for his age. Although he was very quiet, he was quite cheeky when he did speak up and really excelled at sports. His prize for sticking it out was the rest of the stuff in the fridge.

So those were my fellow patients. I got to hear the life story of each of them as part of some sessions one therapist ran and some of them were an eye-opener. But that is all very private stuff that I will not mention here.

The layout of our weeks were pretty static:

The main therapist ran a session every morning. He would teach us about things like trauma and the “window of tolerance” and symptoms and stuff. Lots of scientific knowledge, though he says that psychology is very under-researched. I believe (but don’t remember) that on Mondays he ran the morning session, and the afternoon session. Lunch was an hour long, which was too long for most of us. But we survived. There was also a “pack meeting” each Monday, where we gave feedback and suggestions for the clinic.

Morning session was obviously the main therapist, with the afternoon session being another therapist. For two of the weeks we had occupational therapy, which I found useless and didn’t quite like the therapist. Another therapist was an amazing German woman who has been through rape, and addiction, and eating disorders, and abuse, and lots of other things. She really helped me to understand that if I want to get better, I have to engage the right side of my brain. More on this later.

Shopping day! The first week it was an all-day event, but since we were a small group, they returned to having the morning therapy session and then shopping in the afternoon. They did try to take us to a store not near any bottle shops, but obviously that didn’t quite work out.

On Thursdays we had sports in the afternoon. They book the local recreation centre and bring a bunch of balls for the guys to kick and throw. I was roped into badminton by the nurse who took us and found that I really enjoyed it, enough to do it with friends back home. I am still a bit uncoordinated, but it was fun.

This was a weird day. The main therapist’s wife ran the sessions in the morning and afternoon with drama therapy and yoga. I was a bit turned off by her as she started showing us our acupuncture pressure points (yeah, like you can totally channel my gallbladder’s “energy” through my right leg), but the worst part about her was that she forced me into what I would characterise as physical intimacy with another patient. I made a complaint about her. Not sure if that’s going to do anything though. The drama therapy was a bit of fun though.

Outings! Each Saturday was an outing to a different location: whale watching, BBQ at the beach (although we weren’t allowed to swim without lifeguards), watching the footy, visiting a chocolate factory (yeah, because trying to quit sugar just wasn’t hard enough). It was a fairly tame day with lots of driving. Thank goodness for my iPod, because that older gentleman would not stop talking, singing or whistling.

This was a fairly “blah” day. The first Sunday we did mindfulness and yoga, which none of us liked. Another Sunday we talked about drugs and alcohol, then did music therapy in the afternoon. The last Sunday we were all together… crap, I can’t remember. Oh, I think maybe we did art therapy? We did art therapy a couple of times. I made my husband an art.

So this structure was fairly good. The crazy thing about it was that while the first week went by really slowly, somehow weeks two, three and four just flashed by. It wasn’t just me who observed this either. The other patients experienced the same thing.

The other girl and I ended up using the second kitchen for all our stuff, due to it being away from the TV mostly, which was always on at high volume as the winner of “Survivor Blackwood” became a total couch potato. So much so, that the girl left her hard drives with him when we left, with the idea that she will collect them back at the private hospital to which most of us return.

Yesterday I saw my psychiatrist, who was apparently anxiously awaiting my return. It seems that some of his other patients are also interested in Blackwood, but they wanted to hear how I went first, particularly with being female. He told me that I was the “pioneer” for his practice.

My session with him was very interesting. And by interesting, I mean horrible. I shared with him the lessons I learnt while I was at Blackwood and he gave me his own input on where he believes my journey is headed. To this end, he started talking about similar journeys that other patients have been on, including the fact that the thing most people share last (the thing they most do not want to talk about) is the thing that they should be talking about the most. And he gave examples. Oh yes, real life examples of other patients.

One patient, as a child, was forced by her brother to have sex with the dog. Horrifying. Another patient was raped and played with repeatedly over a weekend. She was about ten and was being looked after by two teenage boys. Yeah, because somehow her parents thought that was a good idea. I sat there as he told me these things, and I felt so horrible that I almost walked out on him. I couldn’t handle the thought of being raped or abused like these girls.

At the end of the session he mentioned that I had sat through half an hour of deep conversations with him, something that he believes I wouldn’t have been able to do six or seven weeks ago. I was like, “It wasn’t easy! You kept talking about rape and things!” Terrible, terrible conversations.

I think the thing I took away from it the most, is awe at the kind of person that my psychiatrist is. He is a very nice, very sweet, Catholic man who I have only seen angry once (and that anger was not directed at me). If you met him and didn’t know what he did for a living, you would think that his mind could be blown by any mention of violence or sexual abuse, to the point where I was pretty sure I had broken him by telling him that the female author he recommended to me when we first met was now actually a homosexual man. And yet, he deals with all of this completely fucked up shit on a daily basis. He knows the true horror that lives inside of people, the extent to which people can go outside of sense and commit terrible acts. He came dangerously close to temporarily breaking me with those conversations yesterday.

For the purpose of not writing another ten pages of a blog entry, I will leave my “lessons” from Blackwood for future blog posts. So expect to see posts along the lines of “suicide versus self-murder,” “the left brain versus the right,” and “intolerance for the inner addict.” I will ensure I have my notes on hand and shall dazzle you all with my newly acquired knowledge.

In parting, work has given me a new project that has caused me much excitement, and today I have a group therapy session with the Blackwood gang and then a session with my psychologist. At this rate, with all the recommendations I’m getting, I may end up having four damn psychologists. I should probably do my best to avoid that though. Because that’s ridiculous. Ridiculous!

Awkward Physical Examination

Yesterday was interesting. As part of the referral process for sending me to the clinic this weekend, my psychiatrist had to do a physical exam of me! Seriously, how awkward is that? I was so nervous about the whole thing that my pulse was way up.

He had a female nurse there as a chaperone. We had to cross the street to the hospital to do this and we did it in the ECT room. The first thing they did was my blood pressure, which was so bad that they did it four times! Apparently my GP is going to be getting a letter about that…

So it was awkward, but okay. He listened to me in various places with his stethoscope, felt around my liver and other areas, asked me about my biggest scar, tested my reflexes with a little hammer, and tested my strength and balance. I mostly just avoided eye contact throughout the whole thing. At the end of all this he wished me luck at the clinic and said that it will be hard, but if it’s easy then something’s wrong.

The day before yesterday I met with my psychologist and our discussion had two main themes: mine was my self-loathing, and his was about my battle for control. There was also kind of another theme: my fear of being ordinary.

Something that I learnt from my old psychologist is that when we grow up, we internalise the things that adults told us and taught us. If you are told often as a child that you are clever, you will grow up believing that you are clever and your own internal voice will tell you this.

I grew up in an environment where I was unwanted and unloved. I had nothing good to internalise because no one praised me or nurtured me. My own voice now tells me that I am a horrible human being that no one could ever love, and that everything I say and do is wrong. Coming from this environment, how on Earth could I ever believe any different?

Now my self-worth relies entirely upon the opinions of others. If I perceive that someone dislikes me, I’m shattered and feel validated in the belief that I am disgusting. I am actually surprised when my colleagues are friendly toward me because I honestly believe that they should have poor opinions of me.

My husband made the observation that maybe this is why I tend towards oversharing on the Internet. I want to portray the person that I’d like to be and shape the views of those around me.

My own observation in kind was that maybe this is why I struggle to lose weight: because I’m not doing it for me, I’m doing it for everyone else.

When I discussed this with my psychologist, I told him that I had forgotten how much I hated myself. He cheekily replied that this meant that for a while I didn’t hate myself. So I guess that’s a positive. In any case, now that I have uncovered this again, it gives me something solid to work on.

The Battle For Control
In response to the family tree stuff I shared with him, my psychologist realised that my dad (the second step father) and I fought for control over everything. My main examples of that had initially been the battles over food – him saying to eat my vegetables and me adamantly refusing. But this battle stretched into every part of our lives. And I really fought. I was as tough as I needed to be to survive and I relinquished nothing.

The point that my psychologist was really trying to get across was that if I did give up the sugar, if I was successful in my attempt at this clinic, then I would feel like I had lost. My dad would have finally won.

I don’t really know what to do about that. We’ve discussed this before to some extent, but I think now my psychologist is much more certain about it.

Fear of Being Ordinary
Something that I’ve always been honest about is the terrible things I did when I was growing up. I lied and stole and fought. What I did was symptomatic of my home environment. As an over simplification of this (which my psychologist disliked), I acted up for attention. That’s the simple part of it. The more complicated aspect was that if I didn’t act up and cause trouble, I would have been invisible.

I told him that one of my proudest moments in high school was the day of a parent-teacher conference at my high school in year 10. At the start of the evening, all of my teachers got together, pulled my mum and me aside, and told her that I was the only student failing everything. My psychologist asked me how I felt about it now, to which I said, “The same,” and he replied, “Good.”

“How did your mum react to being told this?” he asked.

I had no idea, no recollection at all. I said that if I had to imagine it, she would have done the whole song and dance of, “Oh no, that’s terrible, why are you doing this?” but really, she just wouldn’t have cared. My psychologist said, “No. There was no way for you to wake her up.”

So I suppose I did my best to not be ordinary in high school. I attempted sex for the first time at twelve, started smoking at thirteen, got knocked up at fourteen, skipped school, stole from people and shopping centres, smoked pot heavily, got piercings, attempted to do my own tattoos (which lead to self-harm)… I guess I did everything in my power to not be “good” and “normal.”

These days my attempts to not be normal are less obvious and destructive. Mostly, I just stay silent. I think I’m worried that if I open my mouth then everyone will realise that I’m just a normal person with normal opinions and thoughts. Or even that my opinions and thoughts might be stupid.

I wonder if this is also the reason that I dye my hair the colours that I do?

The Clinic
This is likely my last post before I go away for four weeks. I will be staying at the Blackwood River Clinic, which is a three hour drive from Perth. There will be group therapy, maybe some individual therapy if needed, activities like art and yoga, outings (one of which is to the chocolate factory… what a laugh!), and even farm work activities if you volunteer for it (I won’t be).

So my plan is to go sugar-free (or at least as sugar-free as I can be while doing the shakes diet) and essentially just get everything that I can out of this experience. One of the therapists talked me out of doing work while I’m there, so I will have plenty of time to read and reflect. Hmmm… I wonder if I should add more books to my Kindle.

This is going to be a huge challenge for me. I will be faced with all of my demons and I won’t be able to handle them by eating or immersing myself in work. I hope this really goes well for me.

While I am there, I will be making blog posts, but I won’t be posting them as I won’t really have an Internet connection. I’m thinking that maybe I will just store them in Word documents and post one per day when I get back.

So, enjoy my silence! Send me Facebook messages so I can have some form of social interactions while I’m away. And wish me luck!

Hate and Regret

I’ve just realised that I still hate myself. A dear friend of mine was posting old pictures to Facebook, some of which involved me and the people that I hung around back then and I was filled with regret. I regretted that I didn’t have close friends in high school, regretted that I was a loser. Then I found myself regretting other things from years ago. But now I realise, that it is not these actions that I truly regret… It is me that I regret.

I hate the person I was back then. 2005, I was so depressed, I couldn’t go to a party without sitting outside, smoking cigarettes and quite often crying for some stupid reason. Earlier, in high school, I was never popular. I had a group of friends, but I don’t think we were particularly close. All the people I wanted to be friends with had no interest in me. All the boys I wanted to date were repulsed by me. I was repulsed by me.

It’s hard to imagine not hating myself when everyone else always hated me to start with. What was it about me that the other kids hated so much? Did they see that I was inherently evil and disgusting? Did they know that I was weak? Was I so socially inept at such a young age that I put people off?

Memories suck. I told my friend that I would change things if I could, but honestly, it wouldn’t change what I really hate about my past. It is my own actions and way of being that makes me hate the past. Even now, I regret the things I do and say. I try to stay silent in the hopes that not talking will hide whatever it is about me that those people never liked.

I want to label myself with a “crazy” marker and work towards becoming healthy in the hope that one day I could stand tall and say, “See? I am not that person anymore. I am good.” In the same way that I currently wear the label of “obese” and look forward to the day when I can be skinny again.

So who am I now? Am I currently someone that I will regret later? I’ve been learning to silence myself. I’ve been trying to develop a personality.

Yes, I do regret who I am now. I’m still the person who leaves parties early because I can’t handle social interaction. I’m still the person who’s going to plan a birthday party and live in the fear that no one will show up, just like my twelfth. I am so awkward that I have no idea how to be myself. I’d deluded myself into thinking that I was better, that I had a personality and that people saw it, but upon examination it seems that I never really grew at all.

I’m still terrified that someone is going to tell me that I’m wrong. And now as I think on it, I realise just how terrifying that is! Take yesterday as an example: I made a comment about the way tables are named in the database I’m working with, and someone else commented that it was a standard. I remember now that my initial reaction was anger, which, as my doctors tell me, is a protective emotion, hiding what’s really going on. So what was really going on? Was I really that scared of being wrong? What does being wrong mean to me? Why is it so scary?

This trip to the clinic is beginning to worry me now. Four weeks of being unable to stuff down my feelings with sugar, or immerse myself in project work. How can I possibly spend so much time with this person that I hate?

What an eye-opener this morning has been.

My Family History

So something that my previous posts were lacking is how awesome I find my job now! I don’t know exactly at what point things changed, but my job went from “manageable” (when I was working on my Health Management System) to “totally great.” Things have changed so much that I actually think I would stay here in the long term, even though I could be getting a much higher pay elsewhere.

Here are the things I like about my job:

  1. Flexible working hours – I officially work from 7am to 3pm in order to avoid traffic. And my boss is totally cool with this.
  2. Part of the team – My colleagues are awesome nerds like me and we all look after the company’s systems together, even though I am a bit isolated from what everyone else does. I am now also part of another team at work, but I don’t feel particularly connected to them yet.
  3. Learning new stuff – I expressed an interest in learning how to be a web developer to my boss and he delivered: now I am leading an important data migration project and will get to work on other development stuff once that project is mostly completed. (I think this new work is what has really made working here so much more awesome)
  4. Decent income and incentives – So I don’t get the highest pay possible for someone in my position, but the pay is pretty decent anyway, plus we get a bonus this month (and every September to follow), plus we get to salary sacrifice $1K worth of shares in the company each year!
  5. New offices – Next month we are moving to our new location in the CBD, into the biggest building in the city! The elevators are impressive, there’s lots of handy food and shopping and fitness places all around and it’s fairly close to public transport, on my own train line.
  6. Passion for what we do – Okay, I’ve never really cared much about what our company does, just that they are successful (yay money) and they treat employees really well. But I guess I do kind of care about what we do as I think education is important. I am also aware, however, that we may be slightly evil. Not in a “damage the world” way, but in a “we’ll bother you until you buy stuff” way.

The environment that I have here at work is so supportive of my health problems and my interest in learning new things and really developing my career. This is the kind of company where people really stay for the long haul, because we have it so good. It does mean there isn’t much room for ladder climbing, but I like it anyway.

In other news, I will soon be disappearing for about four weeks. In yet another attempt to be sugar free, I am spending four weeks at a clinic in the middle of nowhere, detoxing from sugar, engaging in intensive therapy sessions each day, and participating in other activities like yoga, mindfulness, art, etc. Their next intake is September 14 and I have an appointment with them today to sign all the contracts and stuff.

My only concern is that they may not take my addiction seriously, and may lump me into the depression program instead of the addiction program. I get that dealing with alcohol and substance abuse may be more dire than a sugar addiction, but it’s really important to me that I learn about how to handle addiction. I really hope I can convey this to them today.

The last couple of weeks have been a problem, however, and I will continue to struggle until I leave. I am steadily gaining weight as I attempt (and fail) to moderate my sugar intake. I’ve been avoiding weighing myself because I just don’t want to see those numbers climb, but I will see all the damage the morning I leave, as I will weigh myself then. It’s going to suck.

My relationship with my psychiatrist may be adapting as I finally (half) told him why I keep my distance from him. In an attempt to alter the dynamic of me begrudgingly sharing the details of my life, I may have done a little overshare in prepping some family trees (which kind of became a mini biography) and linked him to this blog. I am not really worried that he will actually read much of this blog since he is so time poor (and honestly, most of my posts are way too damn boring), but it’s a possibility now. I also then shared this same information with my psychologist, and he might actually read some of this. So that’s a thing now.

In reviewing my reasons for starting this blog, I wonder if I am actually living up to its purpose. This was supposed to be a space for sharing all things relating to depression and complex PTSD, but my frequent posting several months ago became obsessive and mundane. I think I shall strive for better quality posts moving forward and will attempt to be educational in my rantings.

To that end, here are the family trees/mini biography that I made (with the names wiped out):

Page 1
Page 2
Page 3
Page 4

And now you can see why I am all damaged in the way that I am.

As I sit here now and contemplate my recent strides in thinking and feeling things, I am now worried about this clinic and how I’m going to cope with my feelings without turning to sugar to bury it all. I’ve been feeling things lately, sad things, and I’m not sure I have a way to handle them. I think that this is going to be a very intense and difficult adventure for me.

Anyway, things are progressing, stuff is going to happen, and I guess I will just keep coping. This sugar thing remains the most difficult aspect of my life, but aside from that, things are going well.

I have plenty more I can ramble about, but I’m going to end this here. I may make another post before my trip, or I may not.

My Shadow

It’s not like I don’t have anything to talk about. I have plenty I can talk about, so many productive sessions with my psychologist and learning about myself. But at some point I lost the desire to record what I’m going through.

Today is my second day of trying to do the shakes again. I have had one hell of a rollercoaster ride over the last three months with regards to my weight and how I’ve been eating. In June I had my surgery which required me to fast for a whole day. I also found myself deeply immersed in designing and starting to create my Health Management System, so with those two factors combined, I found myself without appetite, sticking to the shakes very well. I lost about five kilos that month.

At the end of June, I just crumbled and found myself eating ice cream again. Over July and now August, I regained those five kilos, plus a little more. I couldn’t force myself to diet anymore. I had no motivation and I felt so trapped and out of control. At one point, I had locked myself away at home and given my cards and cash to my husband to take away from me. We even transferred our accounts out of my PayPal account and into my husband’s, so I had literally no way to sneak off and get ice cream. When I told my psychologist what I was doing, he responded that he was shocked at the amount of nastiness towards myself.

During that session, I discussed with him my addiction to sugar and hence the reason for the extreme measures, at which point he corrected me. If it were truly an addiction to sugar, any form of sugar would do to feed my addiction, instead of my need to find specific sources of this. He said that given this addiction, my final addiction, was my last vice, what was really happening was a rebellion. Essentially, some part of me would just say, “Fuck everyone, I’m going to do what I want!” and then get the ice cream. He said I had two modes of operation: either I would refuse to obey, or I would obey but only under extreme duress, which only lasted so long.

The last time I saw him, I actually cried. He came into the room as per usual, took his seat and asked me, “Why are you angry today?” Then, “Why are you angry at me?” I tried to think. I didn’t know that I was angry, and I certainly didn’t know why I was angry with my psychologist. It seemed mean to be mad at him, he hadn’t done anything wrong. I came up empty and he told me that he thought it was because he wasn’t helping me with my sugar addiction. He couldn’t instantly fix me of this problem, so I was mad at him for not helping. He apologised, not only as a psychologist, but as a human being, because he could see how much this was hurting me.

I don’t remember exactly at what point I started to cry, but I remember saying, “It is ridiculous that I am so close to tears over this, because I swear that I don’t care this much.” He told me that I did care. Obviously. He told me that I was sick of being told to wait. Of adults always telling me to wait. It was likely that my parents always told me to wait for things, and I still need to fight them.

He asked me about the things in my life I was trying to fix. I told him that I had only two issues at present, the sugar addiction and another thing, and then I would be done. Everything would “look” perfect. I acknowledged though that I knew nothing would be perfect in reality. I would still be broken, even if I did fix those two things.

It was at this point that my psychologist really made his job known to me. Not only was it his responsibility to connect me with feelings that I had dissociated from myself, but he also had his own goals, his own items to fix when it came to me. I would often come in with something superficial to fix, like my sugar addiction, and he would eventually turn that into something deeper, something that resonated with me.

I confessed that, as a scientifically minded person, I found talk therapy really difficult for the first few years. I wanted to fix myself, but all therapy was about was talking and learning. It felt so meaningless and stupid. How was this supposed to help me, exactly? But somehow, after years of work, I was getting better. My old psychologist really saw me through my depression. She saw me through to a point that I would call “stable.” But we plateaued there.

This new psychologist can see the remnants of my depression and my complex PTSD. He knows that there is a lot more to fix, and he knows how to go about it.

I told him that I focussed myself on these superficial problems, like the sugar addiction, because I can see those problems, I can understand them and I can devise plans to fix them, whether they work or not. The idea that I don’t understand my own thoughts and feelings, that I need to become more aware of myself and accepting of what I’m going through, feels far too abstract. I have no idea at all how I would go about connecting with those thoughts and feelings.

My psychologist reminded me that I still hate myself. I had come so far in terms of this, but it must still be there, because the problem I have with food is that I don’t feel like I deserve to be nourished. All I can do is punish myself relentlessly. He asked me about it, about my feelings towards myself, so I recalled all those horrible things I thought about me. I remembered how I used to feel evil and contaminated, that I would infect everyone around me.

It’s weird, but at this moment I can see two opposing versions of myself. One is the person I thought that I was on my way to becoming: someone who is worth something and has personality quirks and is just like every other human being out there. But then there is this version that I thought I had gotten over: this depraved soul who would destroy everyone who came into contact with me.

My psychologist told me that everyone has a shadow. “Good” people are aware of that shadow and make the right decisions and choose the right actions. “Bad” people are either unaware of the shadow, or don’t know how to deal with it.

So I guess that contaminated version of me is like my shadow. I do have the power to destroy people, if I choose to go down that path. But by being aware of my shadow and aware of what I could do, I can behave like a normal human being.

My psychologist asked me if I was worried that I would infect him. If I thought I could infect him. I told him that I probably could if I wanted to, but I honestly just wasn’t interested in it.

On Monday I came to a decision about my diet. I am going to suffer, no matter what I do, because I am addicted. Psychological problems aside, I am addicted to sugar and I will suffer that addiction, whether I choose to indulge it or not. Over the last two months I have tried everything I could think of. I chose to stick to my shakes, and merely gave in and ate ice cream. I chose to eat healthy for a week, but couldn’t separate the eating of food to not getting candy. I even chose to just let myself eat candy all day, and it just made me miserable in an entirely different way. So I figured that failure or not, I would just go with the option that caused the least damage to my health and my weight, which is the shakes.

Yesterday I took my decision a step further in my mind. For however long I have been doing this dance with the part of me that wants to lose weight, I have always identified two selves: the one who wants to succeed, and the one who just wants candy. I would identify them as the adult and the child. I can be an adult 90% of the time, but that child will sneak on in and screw everything up. She will rebel, because she thinks that by behaving like an adult that we have lost that ongoing battle with my parents and anyone else who tried to enforce their rules on me. Rebelling was the only way I could stay in control.

Something that I have read in a few books and articles about dieting is that we all need to be the adult. We need to take responsibility for our actions, no matter what they are, and accept that we are in control. As much as I might want to blame this child inside of me, I am the person who is choosing what does or does not go into my mouth. I need to learn that this is control. I need to step up and be an adult 100% of the time.

I think my ideas here are still half formed. I don’t want to be hard on myself, because I don’t want that kid inside of me to think that she has to rebel again. I want to be kind to myself and be in control of my own actions. And I need the security of knowing that I can control my actions. I’m tired of living in fear of this rebellious child. I don’t need her anymore.

I’m still scared. I don’t want to be, but I am. I don’t know how to fix this. I guess it’s good that I have someone on my team who does (my psychologist), but it’s a long battle ahead. At least I’m learning, I guess.

Very General Update

I figured I should probably update my blog. It’s been a while.

Diet is going okay. I’ve lost about 4kg since the surgery, though I’ve been struggling with food again recently, including buying ice cream yesterday, so today is back to it being tough. I was doing really well after the surgery, but I screwed up after a couple of weeks and have been doing less well since. I hope I can get back to it being okay soon. Aim is to be back in ketosis after this weekend, and then hope I will not screw up again. I had to move my weight loss goals by a week again, so now my aim is to have no ice cream until September 29.

Work has been a lot easier on me since working on my HMS. I’ve done barely anything on my HMS for the last couple of weeks, but even just having it there as a fall back makes being at work okay. I am hoping my boss will get me access to the new Student Management System our company has been making. Hopefully it will get me some good experience with development processes and testing and other things that I really should know if I’m going to be a PHP developer.

Speaking of, I have no idea where my career is headed. I’m torn between being a PHP developer, a librarian, or a nutritionist. Now that my job is more tolerable, I am thinking it might be in my best interests to stay in my current role, learn everything I can about being a PHP developer, and then eventually move on to be a senior PHP developer to earn lots of money.

As far as the library thing goes, I start study soon and I have a weekend job at a university library. My husband convinced me to keep the library job, although I am very nervous about it. I have training today, then a couple of practice sessions next month. The customer service part of the job really stresses me.

And for nutrition, I am educating myself and still planning out my HMS. I guess it’s going to have to take a back seat once semester starts though. Two jobs and some study, eek!

I saw my psychiatrist on Saturday. He informed me that given my hugely positive reaction to the new drug, he’s pretty sure now that I have ADD. And my husband agrees with him. So I guess I have ADD then. Oh well, as long as I keep taking this drug, everything should be okay.

I don’t really have anything of importance to say, hence the long silence. I am getting better at some things, stressing about other things. Right now, I am looking forward to the end of September, which is when I hope to be able to start a healthy diet. In the meantime I am stressing about the library job and the fact that at some point I am going to have to introduce exercise into my mornings.

But I guess things are mostly good. Being comfortable in my job is a huge step forward and certainly relieves a lot of the pressure I was feeling beforehand. Now I just need to be comfortable in my second job!

That’s all from me. I’ll try to update with some more meaningful content some other time, like maybe next time I see my psychologist.

Not Such a Terrible Developer

Something that blows my mind: I weighed myself when I got home yesterday and had put on a whole 1.4kg! Seriously, after a day of fasting and getting parts of me taken out, how did I gain that much weight? And I only lost 0.2kg of that this morning. I must be retaining water or something. I wish I knew more about my body and about retaining stuff to add weight so I knew exactly what was going on.

Leaving the hospital yesterday went okay. The most painful part by far was getting the drain removed. It was a long cord that they had to pull out of my side. It hurt so damn much, the poor nurse had to stop at least three times so I could calm down and try breathing deeply again. It was such a weird sensation, having something pulled out of me. But yeah, a really painful sensation.

Once I got home I went to my computer and started playing with my HMS again. It’s awesome. I’m following a tutorial to set up authentication and stuff and I’m really enjoying learning all of this new stuff. Plus, sitting at my computer, I can almost forget that I’ve been cut open.

My husband got a new TV yesterday. He managed to find a floor model of the same TV we had and bought it on the spot. He’s also ordered a screen protector for it, and all of that comes under the amount that our insurance paid for us to get the TV repaired. Awesomesauce.

The cleaner will be here today. I hope she doesn’t mind me getting in the way of her cleaning. I’m a bit nervous about spending the day in the same house as someone that I don’t really know, but it should be fine. I’ll work on my HMS until she needs to clean my office, then I might read something.

Tomorrow I’m having friends over to play board games. It will be the first time that two of these people have come over to our house. I was hoping that the garden would be done before they arrived as it’s quite overgrown, but the lawn mower guy who offered to do it hasn’t done it yet. Oh well, it’s just a little overgrown, haha. I’m kidding, it’s actually quite overgrown.

I’ll be providing snacks and drinks to these people tomorrow and having none of them myself. I don’t think getting drunk so soon after being cut open is a good idea and I don’t know when I’ll be able to eat solid food again, so it’s best for me to just avoid solids for now. My husband won’t be there at the start of the night apparently, so it’ll just be me hosting, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. My friends are nice and there are board games. All good.

Two of these friends will be staying over the night, so I’ll have them to entertain on Sunday as well. Otherwise my weekend is quite open. Back to work again Monday.

I’m hoping that I will cope better at work since I’ll be learning about the framework I’m using for my HMS. I’ll also be learning to do all kinds of other stuff like having people be able to “like” statuses and stuff like that. My justification is that all of this makes me a better developer, which is relevant to my job. And it’s not like I’m ignoring my work to play around with something of a personal project, I’ll still be working on my tickets and exploring the portals I look after. I just have something now to entertain me in the quiet parts of work, when there isn’t much to do.

So, my HMS database is almost complete. I need to add a couple of new tables for features that slipped my mind in the original draft. I also need to add some new columns to accommodate stuff that the framework I’m using does automatically. But otherwise that is all ready to go, and now I’m playing around with forms and authentication. I almost have my first set of Model, View and Controller all working. This is so exciting, embarking on a new project and learning more about being a better coder while doing it.

I started explaining how the MVC stuff works to my husband last night, to which he replied that it seems like most people who use it doesn’t know how it works. This lead to him revealing to me that most developers don’t know shit about computers and most don’t know how the stuff they work with works. On this revelation I claimed that maybe I’m not a terrible developer after all, despite the little I know about how computers work. It seems like I might just be on par with other developers. So maybe I am actually good at what I do, and all this pesky computer nonsense that I know nothing about doesn’t really affect that. Maybe.

Something I need to do soon though is read up on nutrition again. It’s been a while since I studied, and I need to keep going to ensure that once my HMS is complete, I’ll have the knowledge I need to back it up. After all, the whole existence of the HMS is to be a companion to my nutrition consulting. So I need to fill my head with nutrition information, by reading and taking notes, and then by typing up my notes later. Then I can also start writing blog entries for my HMS. My HMS will be a great tool to back up everything I learn about nutrition.

Anyway, I am having a blast making this HMS. Can you tell? Do I talk about it enough? Haha. It feels great to be able to create something like this. I have such a brain for making systems from scratch. I love the whole process: the design, the draft documents of features I can think of, the database ERD, the creation scripts and default data scripts, then actually coding the thing itself!

I am now at the stage of development where I am thinking about lots of new features and am just altering the database, ERD, creation script and default data script as I go. As of the tables I’ve added this morning while writing this entry, I now have 51 tables in my database. I’m sure I’ll be adding more as I think of things to do with this system. For one thing, I still need to create tables to record blood and urine test results. I have to know more about the tests before I can do that though. And there will probably be more room for stuff as I continue studying nutrition and think of new features with further education and stuff.

I don’t really have anything else to talk about today. My stomach is healing from the incisions of my surgery, I’m having a great time working on my HMS, and I’m learning that maybe I am not such a terrible developer after all. Life is pretty good and I hope it stays that way.

Thanks for reading!

The Surgery

The surgery went well. We managed to arrive at the hospital on time for my morning admission and everything, then I was eventually showed to my room which is nice, on the fourth floor, shared with another patient of the same surgeon. I was made to shower again with a special lotion and then put on my gown.

It was several hours before my surgery time. I met with my anaesthesiologist who was a bit rude about the fact that I can’t swallow pills, but seemed to realise after that he had been a nob about It (according to my husband) and was friendly again.

My pain was minimal from recollection, and I didn’t panic at all, I think. My husband is impressed because today I am perfectly happy, despite the small pain I have where my drain is. I got back to my room pretty late at night, so my husband had to leave shortly after. But it was all good, I just slept for most of the night and morning.

I am awake and alert now thanks to my medication. My husband is back to keep me company and selflessly gave me his Internet connection, hehe. I’m thinking I might learn some more about my PHP framework to keep myself busy; I kept thinking about my HMS as I dozed and am really looking forward to working on it again.

I got some blood tests taken a bit earlier this morning and will hopefully soon find out if I can get my drain removed. If there are no complications about that, I should get to go home today.

Due to finishing my surgery so late, I actually had nothing to eat or drink at all yesterday. This morning I was going to avoid the breakfast they gave me in order to get into ketosis soon, but they might not let me leave until I have some, so I guess I’ll eat some and just get back into ketosis when I get home.

I am feeling pretty positive today. I am so pleased with how my pain management has been going and am still keen to lose weight and work on my HMS. I am not really looking forward to returning back to work on Monday, but at least I can learn about frameworks while I’m at work and apply that knowledge to my HMS later.

August is when my busy time starts. I have my full time job, will be starting part time study, and will be starting weekend work at the university library. So busy! I am not looking forward to working every weekend. I thought that this casual job would be an occasional thing, but it sounds like it’s going to be a regular thing instead. At least it will get me experience for future library jobs and hopefully mean getting tax back on my education since it will be work related.

It’s going to be one hell of a balancing act: full time job, casual job, part time study, informal study (nutrition), working on my HMS, dieting… I’m sure I will manage though. I should have at least one day a week of not working, except for maybe some casual exceptions if I need to cover someone who’s called in sick or something. And I do finish my main job officially around 3pm, so that gives me afternoons for studying libraries.

I still really want that Library Coordinator role, but doubt I am even going to get an interview. It sucks. I think I could do really well and be happy in that role. My current boss seems to think that I would blow it out of the water (his words), I wish I could somehow communicate this to them. Oh well, trying not to get my hopes up. It would be a great role for me, but I probably just lack the experience that they would be looking for.

I am still stressed about dieting. I really want to succeed at this and lose the weight that I feel holds me back from things, but there’s still that other version of me who is only interested in indulging in junk food. It’s about a 90/10 split I think now. 90% of me wants to diet and is strong about it, for the most part, but 10% of me thinks that I will fail and I might as well just give up.

What I need to do is treat this like any other addiction, to just hold on for long enough for that desire to be out of my system. I need to convince myself that it will get easier if I just hold on. I mean, it has to, right? I can’t stay hopelessly addicted to ice cream forever!

But it’s still a battle. Especially when something upsets me. I have to learn to cope with my bad feelings without turning to food for the solution. Food is not a solution. These days it’s barely even comfort. I just feel sick and regretful. Meh. Something has to change. I can’t remain in this body for the rest of my life.

I’ll be interested to see how the fat does affect me when I inevitably eat ice cream again one day. On one hand, I’ve heard that it makes people without a gallbladder really sick. But on the other hand, it sounds like such a useless organ since the liver continually produces bile anyway. Maybe it’s about the amount of fat you eat. Maybe the amount produced by the bile isn’t enough to handle big quantities.

In any case, the moral of this entry is just that my surgery went well (I know that this is not a moral). I didn’t panic, the pain hasn’t been too bad. It’s good. I remember my last (and first) surgery and how I felt afterwards like I had been butchered. I thought to myself, “Oh God, what have I done to myself?” Didn’t get that feeling this time.

The surgeon said that my liver might still have crystals but that they are small enough to hopefully pass through without too much problem. He also said he had a lot of scar tissue to cut through when removing my lap band, but it apparently all went well.

So this is my first time of getting an organ removed from my body! I still have my appendix and tonsils and other stuff. Hopefully I won’t have to go through this again, but if I do then I know I can handle it now and not get too stressed out and panicked.

I haven’t even looked at my wounds yet. He said he tried to only cut the areas where I had been cut last time to minimise scarring, which is nice. I really hope I can get this drain taken out soon though as it seems to be the main cause of the pain that I am in. I remember waking up and being confused about what was attached to me. The nurse I asked was annoyed that no one had told me what to expect and that no one wrote down about my inability to take pills after I told them.

My breakfast this morning was all fluids. I didn’t eat/drink much, but I had a nice banana smoothie. There’s some other stuff there like natural yogurt and some kind of fruit mush, but I’m not too keen to eat either of those.

Anyway, I should end this post as my battery on my netbook is going flat. Hooray for a good surgery!

Anger and Desire

I gave in and got ice cream. Disappointment, population: me. Essentially several things went wrong so I justified it to myself. I spoke about it with my psychologist and he says that I was angry. It stems from my childhood: I was angry because the people who were supposed to care for me wouldn’t/didn’t. Being unable to express that anger, it turned inward. Hurting myself to hurt them. The thought process is something along the lines of, “Well, if you won’t care for me, then I won’t either.”

So here I am all these years later, doing the same thing. Someone else screws up and I punish myself for it. My husband can see it as well. When the first thing in my day went wrong, he told me not to get ice cream, that the only person who gets hurt is me.

The other thing that my psychologist and I discussed was my adolescent promiscuity. I don’t know if I’ve told any of you, but I became sexually active at the age of twelve. I wasn’t very good at it until I reached the age of sixteen, but I tried consistently and even got knocked up at the age of fourteen. When I had discussed this once with my psychiatrist, he asked me if I was forced into it, asked me what it was that made me become sexually active so young. I didn’t know.

My psychologist says that I was trying to prove that I was desirable, because I felt undesired, unwanted at home. I had to keep proving to myself that people wanted me and I remember the hurt of rejection too well. A symptom of complex PTSD is a lack of boundaries, and I know that I didn’t understand those boundaries when I was younger. If someone turned down my advances, it was a rejection of me, rather than someone just doing the right thing and not taking advantage of a young and damaged person.

I told my psychologist a lot of things yesterday. I told him about how I was good and smart in primary school, but in high school began rebelling by skipping school, shoplifting, smoking, doing drugs, drinking with adults. He told me that in family therapy there was a line of questioning that gets used. If a child is doing something like not cleaning their room, the therapist asks who that bothers the most. Once the person is identified, then you know who the child is angry at. For me, I guess that would have been my dad.

I told him about the time I filed abuse charges against my dad after one of our fights. I had planned to move out of home (I think this was when I was about thirteen/fourteen) but that didn’t work out, so to keep the peace at home I went to the cop station to drop the charges. The police officer that I spoke to told me that he had seen me around the shopping centre and that I had a bad attitude. He told me not to provoke my dad.

My psychologist is right, I am angry. I’m angry because the people who were supposed to love me and look after me never cared about me at all. My mother sent me an SMS yesterday about my surgery and said, “I love you to infinity and beyond” and all I can think is what a lie that is. I never had love in my life until I met my husband. I never had someone who cared enough to try and help me.

Now all I do is hurt myself over it. That anger surfaces due to some external circumstances like my surgeon’s administrator forgetting to hit the “send” button on the vital information I need about my surgery, and my reaction is to eat ice cream because fuck the world.

I am bloody miserable today which probably isn’t going to make my surgery any easier. It’s talking about all of this stuff, all the loved I’ve lacked in my life. By the end of my appointment yesterday, I was drained and empty. My psychologist said that I had worked hard in our session, so I guess that’s a good thing.

Today I am very anxious about my surgery. I am not looking forward to it at all. It’s going to be painful and scary and I don’t like either of those things. And just imagine if somehow something went wrong and I died! I would die being an obese, depressed person who never got to actually achieve anything in her life.

I have no idea how I’m going to get through the next few hours before I go to the hospital. Guess I should go and find a way to entertain myself.

Sleep Phenomena

I am doing well. I am back in ketosis nice and early, dropping mad amounts of weight, and enjoying this time that I have off work. I have been sticking to my shakes and water the last couple of days which has worked immensely well for me. Not only am I back in ketosis a whole day earlier than anticipated, but I’ve lost a considerable amount of weight for the last three days.

There is part of me that’s still scared that I will go and get ice cream. Today is a concern for me because it’s the last day before my surgery, potentially being the last day that I could eat ice cream without getting really sick. I know that I would regret it though. It would still make me feel sick and I’d be back to losing minimal weight while I wait to get into ketosis again. I can only hope that for once the negatives will override my need for instant gratification. I hate this ongoing battle. Why can’t all of me just agree that I should avoid ice cream for the next few months? Why do I have to have this rebellious part of me?

The time off work has been good. I’ve been working on the database for my HMS. The draft design is done, the creation script has been written, the default data file has been completed, now I just need to manipulate these large text files full of nutritional data. So today I will be learning how to upload a file in PHP and edit the contents of that file to produce an SQL insert script. It should be good fun.

In addition to this work on my HMS I’ve done some reading. I finished Ender’s Game and am now reading Speaker for the Dead. I’ve done a little bit of TV watching as well, but not much. My days have a new pattern: productive in the morning (as always), zoning out by late morning, then picking up my productivity again sometime after lunch, which is when I take another dose of my new drug. It’s great because the productivity distracts me from my desire to eat food. Being busy is always the best solution.

This morning I need to go to my PO box and see if the information about my surgery for tomorrow has arrived. I hope it arrives today, because without it I have no idea about anything about my surgery. I’d need to call them and ask for instructions regarding fasting and the time of admission and stuff. I’m still really nervous and not looking forward to waking up from the surgery. I know that I am going to panic and the staff are going to have to find some way of calming me down. I wish I could retain logic, but the general anaesthetic takes all of that away. Right now I am so terrified.

This afternoon I see my psychologist. I have a bunch of things to talk to him about today, like my need for instant gratification, my fears about my surgery, and how well I coped with being alone in the house while my husband was away in Canberra. Speaking of which, I did pretty good at being on my own. The only thing about it that gets to me is how early I go to bed when I’m on my own. Without my husband there, I am bored and lonely and see no reason to be up and doing anything in the evening. It makes me think that if I ever lived on my own, I probably wouldn’t cope so well in the long term. I’d probably visit my friends more often.

In any case, today should be a good day. In addition to learning about uploading and editing files in PHP, I’ll probably also do some manual data entry for the exercises for the HMS. Actually, I just figured out the best method of doing this, so I am probably going to have to learn about doing database reading and writing in my website first. So more learning about the framework I’m using and stuff. It’s been so long since I’ve coded things like forms. I hope I pick it up again quickly.

There is a phenomena that I was reminded of the other day when my husband came home. He was due to arrive home between 9:30pm and 10:30pm on Monday night and I knew that I would likely be asleep when he got home, so I set my alarm in the hopes that it would wake me up so I could be alert to welcome him home and talk to him and stuff. However, I went to bed and the next thing I knew, it was the next morning and my husband was sleeping beside me.

According to my husband, my alarm did go off and I turned it off. I also talked with him a whole bunch. But I have no memory of any of this. This is actually a very frequent occurrence as I am sometimes asleep when my husband gets home from events and things. I don’t know if I am half asleep while this happens so it evades my memory later, or if I am actually doing these things in my sleep. Apparently I have before assured my husband that I was fully awake and yet have no memory of it later. He often has to remind me if I’ve agreed to something in that state.

Sometimes in these states I talk absolute nonsense, which is partly why I wonder if I’m actually asleep during these events. I have no idea though. It’s so weird. Not because I think it’s a rare thing, I’m sure that plenty of other people do this too, just that it’s so frequent for me. I’d love to record it or something and see if I can work out just how awake I am. Especially when talking nonsense. That would be amusing to listen to.

I’m pretty sure that I am officially an early riser now. It doesn’t seem to require any particular effort to get up when my alarm goes off anymore. It goes off at five and up I get. I do wonder if the hospital is going to affect this, however. From my lack of memories concerning my last surgery, I assume I will be sleeping for most of the time. Hopefully this won’t affect my sleep pattern too much though. I should still get up at five and at least take my morning drug and my breakfast shake before sleeping again.

I’ve also been doing a little better at drinking my water. I finish the first litre often before 9am these days, sometimes a bit later. But after I fill up my bottle again I find it hard to make myself drink. Drinking water is something that I do when I’m being particularly productive. If I’m not being productive, I don’t drink my water. I don’t know why. But now that I get a second wind of being productive after lunch, I can drink more water after lunch again.

Okay, so today’s agenda: go to PO box and hopefully collect my surgery paperwork, if not, call them and ask for details. Continue working on my HMS with my database scripts and learning to use the controllers and models in this framework. Read when my brain starts to doze off, maybe watch some TV. Have my lunch shake and midday drugs, then probably get back to working on my HMS or organising my eBook collection or something like that. See my psychologist. Pack for my hospital stay. Watch TV. Bed.

The challenge today is not getting ice cream. I just can’t let myself think about it too much, that’s all. If I think about it, I’m more likely to talk myself into getting some. I’m doing so well with my diet and weight loss, I’d hate to go ahead and ruin it now. So I just won’t give myself the opportunity. I’ll be leaving the house once this morning to pick up the post and once this afternoon to meet my psychologist, so I just won’t take any cash or cards with me when I go and do those things.

And I have been doing really well. The last three days have been mega for weight loss. I’ve lost 1.9kg in those three days. Another thing I am scared of though is hitting a plateau. I know that it’s coming, it’s common to hit a plateau for a week or two when starting the ketosis diet before getting back into losing mass amounts of weight. I’m worried that I will become disappointed and sad and get ice cream to cheer myself up.

It sucks that I have such weakness in me. That I can’t trust myself to do the right thing. I know that I will succeed if I just stick to my shakes. I can’t fathom it though. I don’t know what success looks or feels like. I can’t imagine ever succeeding in reaching my goal weight. It’s four months away if I can continue at a reasonable pace. Can I really stick to it for four whole months without getting ice cream, or indulging in some other food that will knock me out of ketosis?

I’m sick of this. I’m sick of doubting myself. Like my husband says, if I think that I’ll fail, then I’ll fail. So why can’t I just choose to believe that I will succeed? Why can’t I be sure that I will resist temptation and do what’s best for me?

I’ll end this post here today. Hopefully I will have time to write another blog entry tomorrow in order to write about what I can remember about my conversation with my psychologist. I wish I could remember everything we discuss, but my memory is so terrible. Stupid memory.

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I am an Australian female in her mid twenties who would like to stay anonymous. If you have come to this site and know who I am, I simply ask that you do not mention me by my real name anywhere here.

I am currently engaged in warfare with Major Depression and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This is the place where my progress is kept.

This blog was initially locked out but I want other sufferers to be able to find me, in the hope that my battle can help them to feel that they are not alone. Reading about my condition has helped me immensely, so I'd like to pass it on.