Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Posts Tagged ‘eating

Someone at work gave me a big box of chocolates for Christmas. I brought them home to share with my family.

A few days later, my dad peered into the box, and said, “Where have all these gone?” I was upstairs. They didn’t know I could hear them. My mum said, “Laura’s probably had them”.

I went into the room and told her that a) actually, I hadn’t had any other than those she’d seen me have, and b) even if I had had them, they were mine. She said it didn’t matter if I’d had them or not – but if it didn’t matter, why did she have to accuse me of it? Why couldn’t she have just said “I don’t know”, rather than choosing my name with no evidence?

She said that I was over-reacting, and that must mean I’m guilty.

Guilty was the word that really made me angry. She tries to make herself sound reasonable by saying it doesn’t matter, but no-one’s ever guilty of things that don’t matter, are they?

I went to my room and cried and scratched my arm with my fingernails, and now there are long, raised stripes up my arm. I sat in a corner with a makeshift noose around my neck, but there was nothing to hang from, there never is, and now I just feel numb.

It was such a small and insignificant thing, but I freaked out about it, I often do over things like this, because it’s a recurring theme in the story she  tells me about my life: Laura is greedy and selfish and secretive, Laura is a liar, Laura can’t be trusted.

How can I live with her? How can I eat? How can I do anything when I know she’s always going to be there, waiting to attack me for something?

I know I’m probably overreacting. I know there’s nothing I can do. I just really want to disappear right now.

Ah, that old chestnut.

My parents are on holiday.

Over the past few days, there’s been a noticeable change in me. I’m not sleeping (hence why this is being written at 6am. I turned the light off, I went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking or moving or distracting myself, so I thought fuck it, I’ll come here and write about it and maybe that will wear me out). I’m eating less, too. I feel tingly and jittery and slightly irritable. I’ve been writing stories (1000 words is the magic number. After that – and often before – , I get bored or distracted or decide it’s rubbish or it just stops), and over the weekend I went shopping, and spent hundreds of pounds on clothes (and this is me. I live in natty old jeans).

So which is it? Coincidence or causation? Am I ridiculously hyperactive etc. because my parents are away – no enforced routine (might as well eat when they cook, might as well go to bed before they get suspicious), no fear of being shouted at, just a general lack of arsiness – or is it all just a coincidence?

I don’t know.

I’m not sure what it means, if it’s causation. Probably that I’ll never be able to leave. If a few days away from them sends me into overdrive, then I doubt I can be trusted away from them permanently. But if it’s coincidence, then it’s just one more things that I can’t explain, can’t stick a label on and tidy it away into a box. And it means it might happen again when my parents are here, and that scares me, because I know they would be angry with me if they saw me like this – my mother, especially, isn’t fond of me showing any more animation than is absolutely necessary.

Perhaps I have turned a corner.

A tiny, tentative, temporary step in the right direction.

I got a good four or five hours’ sleep this morning, which feels like a luxury. And then I spent quite some time lying around, doing nothing, being nothing.

And then a little thought skipped into my brain – and it feels so long since thoughts have skipped – and it said: Why not get out of bed today?

Well, I thought. Why not, indeed?

And I got up. And I got dressed. And I even left my room, the flat, the building. I went to my department and I bought some reading that I really should have bought a couple of weeks ago, but at least I have it now. And then, on a whim, I got on a bus and went to town.

It was, perhaps, a bit too much, a bit too soon. I felt very sick. Things were a bit blurry, and I was having a bit of trouble walking in a straight line. Actually, I came over a bit faint, a bit dizzy, in Waterstone’s (a bit more extreme than the usual Waterstone’s dizziness, the panic of I want these two books and they have ‘3 for the price of 2’ stickers on them so I need to find a third but I don’t want any of them but oh my god I HAVE to find one…etc etc etc). It was around about then that it occurred to me that it was over a day since I’d blankly, dully forced myself to eat anything, and almost as long since I’d remembered to drink. Which was, if I’m honest, a bit strange.

Well, then there was food, and drink, and since then I have felt considerably more solid, although still a little woozy occasionally, which I think is probably just the effect of so consistently not really sleeping.

Also, I got an email from my tutor, saying that because I missed a presentation I was supposed to give, I can make up for it by writing a short essay…not sure I’ll actually be able to do it, let alone do it well, but it’s nice of him to give me the chance, although at the back of my mind is a horrible, reproachful voice telling me that I don’t deserve to have a second chance, because I lied, because I wasn’t really ill, just tired, just lazy, just sad.

God, I am so fucking tired. The extra sleep of this morning didn’t do me much good. To be honest, I feel like I’d need to sleep for a good four or five weeks in order to feel like I’d had enough sleep.

But I feel a bit more human. A bit more capable. And I suppose that’s what I need to hang on to.


My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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August 2020