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Thank you and goodbye..

I’ve got a lot out of doing this blog but it’s time to go now. I hope I’ve raised some awareness of Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder and of eating disorders. I hope that my friends who have read this – thank you- and given me feedback have a better understanding of what I go through every month and how much it dominates my life. I know just doing the blog has helped me understand things more and also given me some clarity on what other people, and those close to me, do and do not know or understand.

I’m really struggling with both my issues, as per usual. My cycle dominates everything. I use food to self medicate; I am on a small dose of fluoxetine and its not really working. I’m not sure more drugs are the answer. I’m about to leave my job, the flat I’ve lived in for over 10 years, the city I’ve lived in for 14 years, and a lot of my friends to embark on an as-yet-unplanned adventure in a place as yet undecided. I view this as a scary but positive step!

I don’t think the blog serves the purposes I set out to do when I first started so I’m ending it here with thanks to you all for reading. I would definitely recommend doing a blog to anyone who is thinking of it! It’s been great, and the outcomes and reactions haven’t been at all what I expected! If I do another blog it’d be totally anonymous though, so I could be scrupulously honest about PMDD. I’ve censored some of the things I’ve written about on here.

So again thank you for reading over the last couple of years-I hope that if anyone else with PMDD, addiction issues or an ED has read this that it was useful in some way. It was very useful to me!

ODAAT, To thine own self be true x

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The Sex Blog

The trouble with dating multiple people at once is that they can all dump you at once. That’s how it goes I suppose. Sometimes though I really wonder what the fuck? I’ve dated men, I’ve dated women. I’ve been in committed relationships and very casual ones that have lasted for ages. I’ve fallen hard for some people after one amazing weekend and still thought five years later that they might just call up one day and want me back. Other folk have been in love with me, and me not with them. The other way round. Every way round. Up, down, sideways.

I’ve had a sex slave-which was fun, but tedious in the end. I’ve had a fuckbuddy-fun, but emotionally painful in the end. I’ve had a long distance relationship-didnae work. I’ve had a committed relationship with a woman 20 years older than me, but we were both addicts and it didn’t work. Then another one with a woman 20 years older than me. And then one with a woman much younger than me. I’ve been a mostly lesbian woman having a relationship with a mostly gay man-didnae work. I’ve had opportunities for shenanigans with amazing women that I didn’t act on because I was so shy (I look back and think-WTF?!) there was a Montenegran gangster, a Jewish dentist, a Glaswegian Israeli, a Turkish bloke who had a foot fetish. A Hackney dyke with a tattooed neck. A Kurdish refugee who vomited when he first saw me naked (so that didn’t work). A gorgeous hot tattooed sexy amazing Liverpudllian lover who was great fun but it just didn’t work out. An Italian I was in love with who ditched me because he only wanted a black woman (he decided, after ages). Another Italian who shagged me sideways with no emotional attachment for a long time and it was great fun but I got bored of the kinkiness and wanted someone to watch Masterchef with. A gorgeous creative arty redheaded burlesque performer. A Scottish guy who loved me but wouldn’t leave Scotland. Another one I was insanely in love with and my heart still skips a beat when I hear his voice. He just didn’t want me. I’m still gutted. A gorgeous American woman who it just never happened with and now she’s married to another woman and I think maybe I never had what she needs so it worked out okay anyway. There was this gorgeous butch babydyke in Boston, god she was beautiful.

This is the tip of the iceberg and probably another whole blog in itself. From age 14 when I was crazy about my intellectual red-haired best friend and didn’t understand those feelings (who knew about same sex attraction in Scotland in 1988? I didn’t, and the internet hadn’t been invented yet and I don’t think there was a chapter on it in my parents ‘joy of sex’ book), till today, when I dated a blonde, bearded posh English guy who wooed me and gave me gifts and spent weeks sending me long seductive emails but then sent me a one liner saying he didn’t want to see me again, I’ve been searching and searching and here I sit, alone in front of Masterchef.

Mostly, there was someone I truly loved who loved me and that’s another story that didn’t work out and that I’m not going to write about here, because it’s too painful.

Mostly, I think looking back on all my shenanigans, I’ve had relationships involving love and those involving sex but not many involving both at the same time with the same person. That’s eluded me.

This is tied up with body issues right now because since losing lots of weight I don’t know where I am with it all. My USP used to be that I was a sexy confident fat lassie. That took me 30 odd years and a whole lot of wok on myself to come to fruition. Now I am a less fat lassie with fluctuating confidence. I used to feel good and subversive and ‘fuck you, look at me in all my bigness!’ when I was naked before my gastric bypass. Now I feel more like ‘oh shit I’m really floppy and have all this skin and everything wobbles.’ I look more attractive with my clothes on but not so much anymore with them off. That’s not the problem though, the problem is deeply rooted chronicly low self esteem. At my core, I think there is a bit of me that believes that if you love me, there must be something wrong with you. Then there’s that addict-y contradiction of ‘I’m the piece of shit that the world revolves around’: if you love me it’s because of my winning personality (because I am great) but I know you’re forcing yourself to fancy me physically because I am repulsive. Or it’s the other way round: I know you fancy me because you are a man who fancies big women, but you’re never going to love me because this is just a physical thing. 

Some lassies seem to just be the type that someone wants to be with and vice versa. I joke that I’m a big breasted, bisexual nympho, I’m a catch, why does no one want to catch me?! Its true though, I don’t get it, I’m bamboozled and frustrated and lonesome and horny and just don’t understand. Eating doesn’t soothe me anymore. I’ve had to find other things. Sometimes Bach works. Sometimes swimming and cycling. Sleeping, a bit, when I can. Being soothed and feeling safe is the biggest thing for me since stopping drinking and smoking weed and getting into recovery. I’ve looked for it everywhere. Something to make me feel safe and calm. I know the answer isn’t chemical, or food. I suspect I might be searching for the answer for the rest of my days so I need to just accept it. I just don’t know.

Embodied

It’d hard, being in a body. Having loose skin. Wondering if anyone will ever fancy you again. Sigh.

Sabbatical Plans

I’ve arranged to take a year off work. I’m in a lucky position to be able to do it and it feels like the right thing to do. Much as I love London a change is needed and so off I go. I’m still formulating a plan about where to go and what to do. I expect I’ll tell folk some guff about going to do voluntary work and make a difference in the world (which I DO want to do) but right now I actually think my main priorities for my time off are:

  • Be calm
  • Keep it really simple
  • Take my vitamins
  • Swim
  • Sleep 8 hours a night
  • Don’t get ill
  • Just be healthy and …be.

I am so tired of the anxiety, the insomnia, the digestive issues, the colds, the health problems. Having constant low-level health problems for years is incredibly draining. I’m going to be like an Edwardian invalid and just live somewhere with fresh air and read books and nap. Drink some tea. Meditate. Sleep well. Draw. That’s all. Nothing big, nothing complicated.

Gastric Bypass Not Recommended, #498

Here’s one thing I don’t recommend:

Forget to take your prescribed vitamins for a couple of days, and your medication. The lack of vits will give you really nice weak, cracking fingernails and a big scabby bit at the side of your mouth that’s from lack of B vitamins. Then one night stay up late due to insomnia caused by massive anxiety. Don’t spend the time preparing food for the next day.

The next day, sleep in. Again don’t prepare any food. Be late to work.  Be really hungry by 10am but because you were late, don’t go to Planet Organic for a healthy lactose-free breakfast because that’s a few more minutes away and you want to be quick. So instead nip to Tesco, buy heaps of crap. On the way back from Tesco eat a pain au chocolat. At your desk eat some bits of bread (Tesco’s own, so nicely filled with noxious chemicals) with egg mayo (high in protein=good, highly processed and hard to digest=not so good). Then chase it down with a packet of cheese and onion thick cut crisps.

Then feel utterly sick but not so sick you feel able to turn down a sugared jam donut from the plateful being offered round the office that afternoon. Or some dark chocolate.

Be sure to hate yourself a bit for good measure. All this should ensure you keep your hand in at having an eating disorder, just in case losing weight, taking up cycling and making positive changes in your life had made you think you’d moved on. Be sure as well to feel overwhelmed by things in your life both positive and negative. Include things you have absolutely no control over such as environmental destruction, pollution, neoliberalism, the destruction of public services, fracking. Include some things that are intensely personal and cause you emotional pain you struggle to begin to even deal with: friends voting no in the referendum, friends behaving strangely, friends telling you one minute they love you and the next that they don’t want to see you again, friends who don’t invite you to their weddings, colleagues who really insult your nationality and think if you complain its because you can’t take a joke, anger at your dad dying because the hospital didn’t have a bed for him in intensive care and the consultant went on holiday at a crucial point after his operation and the new consultant didn’t pay enough attention and a series of small seemingly inconsequential oversights meant he fucking died and its not fucking fair. Stuff like that.

Overeat a bit in the evening too, meaning you miss a social date you’d made with a friend. Accomplish nothing and yet manage to still stay up late and repeat.

 

PMDD Square One

This is me at PMDD square one again: back to 40mg of fluoxetine on my first bout of PMDD without the venlafaxine. previously I was on 60mg fluoxetine so I’m giving 40 a go to see how it is.

I’m so exhausted that basic functions seem extremely difficult. this includes things like crossing the road, packing my bag to leave work, interacting with colleagues, eating, responding to stimuli, you name it. The exhaustion is physical and emotional. My brain is scrambled to the extent that I just can’t get it to think properly. I’ve forgotten heaps of things and can’t work out where in my memory to even start looking for them. I’m easily distracted, yet my reactions are as if I’m interacting through a shield of liquid glass that surrounds me. This does not make pretending to be a fully functioning person in London easy. I probably shouldn’t cycle when I’m like this.

I’ve got so much to do but I’m going to keep it really simple for myself tonight: eat something, have a bath, at a push try and prepare some food for tomorrow. That last one can be scored off though if necessary. If I get a burst of energy, i’ll put away some laundry and wash the dishes. Everything else can wait.

I’ve not even started on the emotional turbulence yet. I suspect that’ll kick in tomorrow. I mean I did cry at my desk when my colleague told me her mum had died of breast cancer when she was 47, leaving her as a 16 year old to look after her brothers and sisters; I was able to reign myself in though. Oh and I did bump into a guy at the photocopier and when he said ‘how’s it going?’ my reply included the words ‘bastarding cunting arseholing bloody fuckers’ which did take him aback.  I suspect that’s not appropriate language for the workplace. I really must watch my verbal boundaries.  

On the whole though, that’s pretty good. It bodes well for 40mg!

Canary Down a Coalmine

I had the chance to have a good chat with a friend the other day, a friend who like me thinks that there is a lot wrong with how we live our lives and maybe that’s what is making so many of us ill. So many people with allergies, with depression, you know sometimes I wonder, are we just getting better at being open about all this stuff or are we all getting sicker? And why?

I wonder why I’ve had consistent low immunity-is it because I grew up in a damp house with a chain smoking parent? That was normal in the 1970s but I suppose it’s not surprise that my sister has asthma and I have the lungs and immune system of a gnat. I’ve had a cold for two weeks now. Every bug going finds its way to me. is it because I had glandular fever when I was twenty and in fourteen months I took fourteen courses of antibiotics? That’s got to ruin anyone’s health.

I’ve been reading this stuff about a doctor who has linked loads of symptoms together and suggested a dietary remedy. Some of the symptoms are addiction, premenstrual dysphoric disorder, anxiety and depression. Weirdly teeth grinding is in there too. I grind my teeth like the bejesus so that really made me sit up and take notice. The thing is there has to be a link between how much we’re poisoning the planet and how much we’re all getting cancer and other diseases. You know when you see those news articles about how fish are all fucked up from all the hormones in the sea? Why would it be that fish would get all fucked up but we wouldn’t? When we’re consuming food from the same source?

I genuinely worry about this a lot. I know I’m not describing it very well here but it’s the same feeling of recognition as when I first read stuff by Derrick Jensen. Its one thing knowing about it from a book and another trying to do something about it, that’s the hard thing.