Visits and Plans

So it’s been a while since I last updated on here.

I met with my MHO (mental health officer) a while back and managed to speak to her about my attachment issues. Long story short, in two weeks’ time I’ll be going back to school with her to see my old guidance teacher!

I’m excited, nervous and downright terrified to do this. I’m not sure how I’ll react to seeing her, I’m not sure how I’ll be after saying goodbye for the last time. The idea of this visit is to give me closure, but I’m worried that things will escalate after seeing her as this is one of the only things I’m holding out for. 

I have plans for that week, bad plans, and preparations are in progress but I’ve faced the fact that it’s unlikely to do much damage. Still, my head convinces me that it’s worth a try. I wonder what a day of freedom would feel like, a day without making plans, a day with clean arms and being able to eat without obsessing over calories. I mean I weighed a muffin today, for Pete’s sake!

Whatever happens, I know I’ll most likely survive it. I have things to look forward to, university to attend, a birthday to be had. Things are tough but I’ll plod on in my unhappy existence, living for the moments that are marginally less dark. Is this all there is to life? If it is, I’m not sure I want to live it. 

Missing you

So a part of my life that I don’t talk about a lot is attachment. I think I’ve struggled with it for as long as I remember, way back in primary school I would get really upset every year when we changed teacher, even though I knew it was inevitable. 

In the past few years though it’s definitely reared its ugly head more and more often. A year out of school and I’m still painfully attached to teachers and members of staff I used to see, especially my old guidance teacher. Missing her is the basis for the above poem, written on a day when I felt particularly floored by my attachment. 

I guess it’s natural to miss her, she was the first person I opened up to and showed me so much care and compassion that I’m not surprised I became so easily attached. I could probably say she saved my life, and that’s not something you get over easily. 

But oh lord does it cause so much pain. So much pain. Every time I’m out I’m looking for her face, her silhouette, every double take I take rips out another part of my heart – I don’t even know what I’d say to her were I to see her again, I’d probably just cry. I have her email address and it takes everything within me not to contact her, as I know that that would just open up the old wound and aggravate it, but lord do I miss her so much. I miss her so much it physically hurts, I feel sick to my stomach and my heart aches when I think of it. I wish I could get over her, I honestly do and I tried to bring it up with my team yesterday in a note but they ended up focusing on other more concerning parts. 

I just wish I had somebody to talk to about this, it hurts so much to deal with it on my own and so I turn to places like here and Instagram to vent, but it’s never quite the same as speaking to her. It feels like grief, like I’ve lost her forever and a part of me has died. I know these thoughts are irrational, that she’s only supposed to be a fleeting part of my life but it still won’t stop hurting no matter how much I try to rationalise.

I’m not sure what the purpose of this blog post was, I guess I just wanted to share this portion of my life with all of you.