Or not so happy if you’re STILL awaiting referral, lying in bed, being driven mad by nothingness, (trying to) cope with a gripping illness – sorry, went off on a tangent there…
The topic of my future has taken on rather pessimistic connotations as of late as I can’t seem to find direction in life. My plans of jetting off to sunny beaches with my best friends alongside the possibility of University in September have been dashed thanks to anorexia and, as a result, it is extremely hard to think positively about the future.
In order to make any sort of advancement I am aware I need help. Although everybody says that this is the first step to recovery, (and believe me I do appreciate your words) it is impossible to feel comforted when the whole process is out of your control and the very system that is set up to help, now becomes the same system prolonging your illness – sinister huh?
I must admit that sometimes, pondering on the many possibilities that the future may bring does indeed help. I plan to one day own a sausage dog called Ethel for example and career success as well as finding love motivates me *universal cliché sigh*…. However, this too becomes destructive when you realise the only happiness you can draw from is possibility and not reality. It is in fact rather depressing to acknowledge hypothetical situations bring more comfort than reality – a reality that may in fact never harbour career success or love (I am however determined to get a sausage dog.)
Sorry this post seems to be overwhelmingly depressing, once in the Clinic I hope to feel lifted and my blog will begin to take a shift too I am sure. It will be good to read over these posts in future and witness the change (if I haven’t deleted any trace of my online existence by that point in a life crisis or through embarrassment that is….)
Yours sincerely, a flightless bird, yearning for wings.