So my blog posts have become a bit 'far and few' as I'm reading back through them. I hope my readers understand that although I love my blog and it allows as a way to express my feelings, I've had a lot going on in my head.
Last week (on wednesday when I normally post) was my fourth CBT session, and in this session I was diagnosed with a third mental health problem, I was diagnosed with PTSD, Posttraumatic stress disorder. And this, although me and mum knew I had it, I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want the words saying to me nor did I want to accept it, which was exactly the same as when I was first diagnosed properly with severe depression and anxiety. It has become like a grieving, the denial, the sadness, the anger, more sadness. And although I do accept my mental illnesses, and I do not let them define me, I hate them all the same. They changed me, they affected my college work, they affected friendships, they affected everything I once loved, and I still struggle to like things I used to like.
One of the worst things is, becoming depressed made me put six stone on, yes. SIX. In the space of about a year. And that didn't make my depression easier. Although I am trying to lose weight again through slimming world (which is what I originally did) I struggle because of anxiety. I try really hard and I don't see a weight loss and it creates a brick wall in my mind, my first stone is my brick wall and it is so hard to get over, everyone in group, their weight loss is zooming past mine, four weeks and they are at their stone award, four months and I'm not. I start to give up, then I want to do it again, I refuse to let myself quit but I can't help but beat myself up about it. My biggest comfort is food, it always has been since a trauma when I was two. And I feel like a sinking ship. I have a new diagnosis, I'm fat. I can't run fast. I can't be happy for long periods of time. I can't bring myself to see friends. I'm sinking again, a relapse.
One thing I told my therapist. I'd rather be skinny and miserable than fat and miserable. Because then people would treat me normally. See me as a person not a fat depressed little thing.
But this week, two days after diagnosis, my best friend, known to me as Chuckie, dragged me half way across Manchester to the Trafford centre, and new look had a sale. I was looking through and saw a beautiful wine red top. Floral, cropped and beautiful. But the biggest they had was size 14. Now, knowing my pencil skirts are size 14 I decided to try it, and it fit. From a size 18 to 14, I was in absolute shock.
So below I will post pictures of what it looked like, and although I haven't got to my stone yet, I have lost FIVE INCHES from around my waist! Check it out!
Also, my Vlog that should have been up Thursday, the audio messed up big time so it will be uploaded Tuesday night!
My blog is also past 9000 so my big aim is now 10K! please share share share this on facebook and let the world see, the more they see the more it helps others!
Lots of love,