Superficial

Why is it that one can coast through ones day, regardless of its difficulty or ones worries and stresses, but the minute someone mentions the dreaded words "how are you doing" or " are you ok?" the carefully constructed facade dissolves. This is happening to me more and more, several times in the space of a day.

To look at me, I'm doing fine. Physically my weight is dropping a little but is still classed as "stable" and "within" range. I go to work, and I perform my role, I remain calm under pressure (not because I am coping, but simply because my head is already too full and will not take on any further stress. It wouldn't be possible. It wouldn't fit) and I come home and go straight back out to dancing.

Yes. Physically I am doing ok. Except for the light headedness that people don't see. Except for the aching of my limbs and constant tiredness that people don't see. Except for the constant barrage or eating disordered thoughts plaguing my mind. To read my face, you would think that things are ok. That perhaps I am a little stressed, but apart from that I am managing.

But if you were to put your hand on my shoulder, or give me a hug, or ask how I'm doing, then the answer would be different. When people do this to me, I break down and cry. Every time.

My good mood is as superficial and fragile as the skin on water (apparently water has a skin, but I find this debatable). It floats on brief praise and completed tasks. It only takes a small comment, or for more than one person to ask me to do something at once for the "everything's fine" layer to disintegrate into tears.

Automated Punch Rant...

Wouldn't life be much simpler if we could all just punch the people who piss us off and then everything would miraculously be ok?

Today I am hideously upset.

Punch number one:

You people down at the housing benefit office, with your slow to react eyes and fingers when my form hits your sterilised desk, disturbing your coffee and ryvita minis. Yeah I'm talking to you! Pull your finger out and take the time from your extremely busy schedule of status updating and discussing Susan in finance's gastric band surprising lack of weight loss to at least look at my form. I am in arrears with my rent (or at least, I would be if my father was not so incredibly supportive - of course far far away from my punch list) thanks to you. But what do you care? You just see me the same way you see the odd, scruffy looking man stood well within my personal space in the que chewing your gum excessively loudly in my ear.

Punch number two: Man in the que up in my personal space chewing gum excessively loudly in my ear.

Punch number three:

Unison. I left my job in January. my agreement resulting in my being entitled to £2500 compensation and £3000 back pay should be fucking sorted out by now. Stop fobbing me off, and sort it out! I want that money! It's not even as if I'm taking my compensation and going on a round the world once in a lifetime trip after a slip and fall in meadowhall... I need the money to pay my rent and bills before my life literally gets cut off.

Punch number four:

Work. I am finding it difficult enough as it is managing this bowl of salad and treacherous bread roll, without you calling me back off my lunch every three milliseconds to serve on the counter. Result ... after five attempts at eating the bread roll (and being called back to work every time) I admit defeat and throw it in the bin. This act is then followed by an hours silent treatment to everyone chased with a crying episode over the industrial stainless steel sink in the back.

There are other punches, but these ones I am omitting as I feel a stab of guilt for wanting to throw them in the first place. I'm only glad that my arms don't have a knee jerk (see what I did there?) "automated punch response" every time I am upset or annoyed. If they did I would possibly be serving some kind of custodial sentence at this precise moment after several assaults... as well as the theft of a few bags of sweet chilli ryvita minis from the housing benefit offices.

So there you go. For all of you on the list... you can all just fuck off. Please excuse my foul mouthed use of the English language. I am rather unhappy.

Feeling the Sun on your bones

Its nice to see that summer has finally shown signs of returning this year. The smell is always the first indicator... like when the sun hits the tarmac for a prolonged period of time, leaving that smell that, for some inexplicable reason, is really comforting to me.

The introduction of more colour into the wardrobes of the people walking past as I walk to work, makes me feel the need to once again premier my sunglasses for the year. The Starbucks drink of choice has slowly ebbed from the caramel macciato to a caramel coffee light frappacino (whip free of course).

My favourite things about this time of year is the flowers. I love Spring flowers, almost more than summer ones. I always wonder if its because I am so happy to see them, that they give summer flowers less of an edge. Regardless of reason, I love walking through the Botanical Gardens and my local park, even if its raining a little.

The streets almost appear a little busier as people decide to leave their cars at home, me included (although I have no choice due to my burnt out clutch bearing!). Which, in turn clears the air... allowing for the smell of... well... warm tarmac... which I like so all is good in the world.

As for my ED, it remains the same. No worse, but not much better. Granted I am following my meal plan, eating more of a "variety" of foods, challenging my thoughts (which are plaguing and all consuming at times). I appear to take two steps forwards and one step back all the time. A meal out and a fear food, followed by days of absolute torture and compulsions to exercise and restrict.

On a happier note, I have decided to channel my love of Zumba into a possible source of income, by applying to undertake the instructor training.... and although things at my sandwich shop job are better, I still feel anxious and on edge, half of the time from the constant onslaught of ED thoughts, and the other half consumed with feelings on doubt and fear of error.

But the promise of summer gives me some hope, of brightness with regards to the weather at least, and on the back of that further hopes may ride in.