So I have survived in Camp Eat for a whole week. I’ve been getting by but in an unfocused, numbed sort of way. This is purely self protection as otherwise I’d be tailgating someone right out of that door. I am able to have my two allotted 10 minute walks out with staff while I plod alongside and make desultory conversation but they are not always able to make time to accompany me and so I am having to discover alternative methods of distraction from the anxiety. For someone who is normally constantly on the go (and I know this is exactly what got me into this mess), this is a huge shock to the system.
The crazy camp rules are magnified by being an inpatient. This morning I was awakened at 5.50am to be weighed. There’s a queue for medication 3 times a day and given that I am living with 14 other highly competitive and controlling types of people I’ll leave that particular scenario to your imagination. Everyone is always very polite and controlled but there are undercurrents within the undercurrents. Communication is often by half smiles and glances. Silence at the dinner table is heavy with the unsaid.
I have been engaging with craft activities which is something I would never ordinarily have the time or inclination to do. There’s a whole new world of mosaics, scrap books, painting and colouring which I have enjoyed despite myself. Later, Dave comes and taps me on the metaphorical shoulder and whispers; ‘you must be a head case; fancy you knitting and sticking rather than engaging with a normal productive life. Man up for goodness sake’.
When I feel down I lose the capability to articulate my distress, I can only smile and say I am fine, otherwise I would have to find the means to communicate. I am having to keep the distressed, scared child locked in its cupboard for now.