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A&E… again

So, Mr Mediator had his normal Wednesday day off whilst Dr Feline was visiting her brother in Edinburgh. We decided to have a nice day together in Lyme Regis (where Daisy and all Mr Mediator’s family used to live). Storms were forecast and we were pretty excited.

Wow, it was cool when we got there. The waves were awesome (in the true meaning of the word), although not the best we’d ever seen. It was actually safe to go down to the beach.

So, just to explain, you have the cobb (funny name for a pier) in the middle, with the harbour enclosed to the right and a pebbly beach to the left. We started out on the beach, and I very quickly got blown over by the wind – it was a gale, to be fair. Really bruised my coccyx, but I’m trying to not be a complaining person.


The waves weren’t that big.

We then decided to walk along the other side of the cobb, the harbour side. You could see the waves cascading right over further down the cobb. We climbed up some steps just to peep over the (very foolishly as it turned out) at the waves on the other side. I won’t make excuses for our stupidity, but there hadn’t been any big waves that far down until then.

Huge wave. Massive wave, I guess. I don’t remember it except for swallowing an awful to of sea water. Mr Mediator and I were knocked off our feet; Mr Mediator bruised his chest in a minor way, and I hit my head. I have about a ten minute memory gap; the next memory I have is of being in the car and asking Mr Mediator to turn the heating up (we were both wet down to our underwear).

Mr Mediator decided it would be best to phone A&E as I memory loss (even though conscious) and I was very vague. (Apparently, I kept asking, ‘What happened?’ It must’ve got very irritating).

Ambulance arrived and they checked me over there for about an hour and then took me to Exeter for a proper look. I guess I was there for another hour. They considered x-raying my coccyx due to osteoporosis, but decided against it. I wanted them to: I want the medical attention, I want the confirmation and affirmation of being ill, but I do think they were right. Now, at the end of the day, it’s much better. The staff were all fantastic, really fantastic.

This morning and last night were agony. My head, my coccyx, my neck… I couldn’t get comfy. The pain was almost unbearable. But I bore it, because that’s what people do.

After our little spell in A&E we headed back to 2CC. We’d been put off having a day in Lyme, although we’d planned it so nicely.

I ruined it again. We ruined it I suppose, because Mr Mediator was the supposedly ‘responsible’ one. He ended up having to tell Dr Feline over the phone which didn’t go down well; she wanted me to go stay the night in hospital, she wanted to fly back down straight away (the next flight would have got in at about 2am). We persuaded her against all these things; Mr Mediator slept on my floor, and we survived.

The pain has much subsided, and I hate it. I liked the sympathy. I liked the self pitying. I liked the excuse not to do anything at all. But I’m much better now. A hell of a lot better. I mean, it’ll worse in the morning after lying still for so long, but I’m sure it’s okay.

Oh, and it’s New Year. Happy Any Other Day.


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As I said, there’s so much to write about that I don’t know where to start. So, I thought that I’d start with an introduction of the cast of this… drama. This is a drama from now on.

I am dbsgirl.

My older brother is Mr Linguist and his partner (of eleven years) is Ms Granger.

My parents, whom I live with, are Dr Feline and Mr Mediator.

My surviving grandparent (dad’s mum) is Daisy.

My two closest cousins are Little Mi and Dr Braniac.

Their parents are Dr Botanist and The Party Woman.

My CPN (Community Psychiatric Nurse) is Bubbles.

My Care Co-ordinator is Katie Morag.


I’m sure there’ll be other characters in the drama forthcoming (well, who knows, it might end up being entirely philosophical and introspective, but just in case.)

Too many sort of basic posts to write before I can get onto feelings and what’s really going. I’ll make a list and make my way through, and then we can get to the ‘proper’ bit.



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Mr Linguist and Ms Granger

So, it’s the Bank Holiday after the festive period, although New year is coming up soon.

It was so lovely to have Mr Linguist and Ms Granger over for a whole two days. I always worry about having them here due to awkwardness; it’s okay, on the whole, but there are awkward moments. I want something that doesn’t exist. We used to be so close; we saw each other all the time, and we had so much to talk about. But particularly with Mr Linguist, I just don’t know what to say. I don’t think he ever wants to be here; he’d rather be in Cambridge with his mates. Ms Granger seems to enjoy(?) it more, and at least the conversation flows.

I asked Mr Linguist whether Ms Granger actually liked coming here. He acted very awkwardly indeed, and said something along the lines of : ‘You can’t ask something like that after all this time.’ So, my interpretation is that since he didn’t say ‘no,’ that means it’s a yes.

It makes me really sad. I know people grow up and have their own lives and stuff, but it leaves me with a gaping hole. I haven’t grown up. I don’t have a life. If I did, I’d feel the loss less, because I’d have friends and societies and clubs and places to go etc etc. But I don’t.

I do some stuff. I volunteered from 08:30-13:30 at a homeless shelter, but what does that really mean? Once a year giving a little. It’s hypocritical: people are in need all year. Homeless for a life, not just for Christmas. And part of me would like to do something more regularly, but then I have this self-imposed rule that I won’t go out of the house.

I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I wish they loved me more. That’s not fair: of course they love me, and I know that. But they can’t relate to me. We can’t have a proper relationship. Ms Granger had to follow me up to the bathroom

There’s too much to write in one post, and I kind of want to keep each post on a theme, so I guess I’ll stop there.

Mr Linguist, just between me and this blog, I am so so sorry that I have ruined your chance to have a proper relationship with your sister. I never meant to deprive you of that.

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The Day After Boxing Day

Feeling very dispirited to do with weight gain and ‘anorexic’ thoughts. All I want to do is lose. It was a huge huge deal to reach BMI13, and now I’m over it. I got up to 36.8kg, but am down to 36.6kg. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself: I’m going to look up to what BMI I am.

Okay, it’s 13.4. And at my highest it was also 13.4 (they round stupidly).
So that’s not as bad as it could be.

It’s been a tough few days. The ‘Big Day’ is a big deal for lots of people, particularly for those with eating disorders due to the obsession with food. In a way, for me, it isn’t too bad actually; I don’t eat at all so I’m exempt, no one stares at how many nuts I pull from the nut roast, how much skin I remove from the potatoes, forgo gravy, brandy butter, alcohol. I just have my ensures same as usual.

It’s been hard for different reasons. I’ve been anxious about it for ages. but I didn’t really realise why. I still don’t, to be honest. But I’ve been a lot more anxious than I realise. I threw up from pure anxiety for the first time in about six years. Lying on the floor with Popoki and I suddenly realised I was going to vomit, so I grabbed her bowl. Gross. Quite a few other occasions when I have very nearly managed to throw up, but stopped myself.

I’ve stopped the overnight feeding. I was on 200ml a night (350kcal a night) but I can’t cope with it. It’s too much. I’m just desperate. I need to lose weight. I’m not sure whether it’s coincided with the season or not, and I’m feeling very guilty about the potential increased panic mode for my parents (although I’m not really sure they’ve noticed much to be honest), but it’s irresistible. The pull is jut there. Sitting here now, I am full. I don’t want any more. I am done for the night. Yet, in about two minutes time I have to 170ml of apple juice. I don’t need it. Well, maybe I do, but I don’t want it.

Loads more to say, but I’m meant to having family time: mother and father, brother and partner who I all love so much. My gran has gone back to her flat. I truly hope that they had good christmases. I have the normal anxieties about good enough presents and whether I actually like the things they give me (it’s okay: I’m a good actor), and what/who I’m going to pass the unwanted ones on to.

So much to say. I need to write more regularly. I feel pretty ill at the moment (headaches and gut) but assuming that’s to do with anxiety. Despite the unpleasantness, I’d like it to continue; feeling ill makes it much harder for people to make you take nutrition.

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A Level Dreams

This was my (wonderful) dream last night.

Back to lovely A level time. I think I was just doing maths, English, science and something else I can’t remember.I had cocked up the last paper of every single subject for some reason, and I really had to redeem myself now. The last task was to dissect a sandwich (there were two options on your desk) and inspect the contents. (I’m not entirely sure what subject this was meant to be). I panicked. When I called over a useless adjudicator, she just told me I had to. In the end, we compromised and she took it apart and spread the parts out on the front of my desk: squashed, white, floured and lumpy white roll with a thick layer of bright yellow spread, mushy lettuce and a really, really greasy meat I thought was probably bacon. The grease was spreading all over the table, all over my answer paper. I could’t do it. I was hysterical when I came out but school friends like Ally thought I was being melodramatic because I’m ‘the one who does well at everything anyway.’

I failed my A levels.



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Sunday Musings

Had this horrible cold all week. Alison has had it too, but the virus for her included feeling very sick, so she didn’t eat half of today. It’s childish, but feels so unfair. No one would ‘let’ me not eat.

Except, at the end of the day, I do have the power, don’t I? I’m not going to be force-fed anymore.