The trick that makes you drink water

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while now and for once it was never laziness that stopped me – I postponed it for more scientific research.

Okay, maybe, slightly, not a scientist. At all. Nor much research has gone into this, just a self discovery, then self reflection and then finally self acceptance. Which takes time, and who I am to rush what was going on???

So let’s start; the cup that makes me drink water. 

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This happened by pure accident. Pure, accidental, magic. I needed a drink: I used this cup. That was it. It’s a special cup because one of my best friends bought it for me, but it’s not one I always reach for, except if I’m having an alcoholic beverage – I think that’s the trick here, but just hold on a second.

I’ve always wanted to drink more, I think most people says this. I don’t know why It’s difficult, I can’t think of a reason other than we just don’t want to. So there was no intention when I reached for this cup, over choosing a glass one but before I knew it I had drunk it all. Filled it up once more, I carried on with my day, and my cup was empty again.

I kept weeing, and kept filling the cup back up. Ew, not with my wee. I should have worded that differently.

I still wasn’t paying much attention to what was happening, assuming I must have eaten a lot of salt recently (I feel like that’s a thing) so I don’t know how many cups I was going through. BUT when it happened the next day, and the next etc I noticed it could have been up to 20 cups a day.

I was feeling better all round. Weeing a lot, obviously, sometimes felt like I had a huge stomach, but I did feel better in myself and my skin was looking a lot clearer but then again I don’t think I’ve paid too much attention to that part.

I went with it, considered writing about it on my blog, but held it off to see where it was going and what impact it could have on my life. I began bringing it to work with me and while I worked on the computer from 6.30am to 1.30pm I would constantly sip away. I would take it out and about with me. It’s been there in photos I’ve posted online in someway or another; been there in a cosy shot of my bed at night, been there in an item I listed on ebay and it’s even been there in accidental shots before the real photo. I bought another one because I loved it so much, and suddenly I realised it was there, lodged into my routine. It’s been well over 28 days – I’m sure that’s how long it takes to make something a routine.

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In the past I’ve bought other cups and bottles before in hopes this would happen. I’ve made resolutions, I’ve made plans, I’ve made to do lists hoping I would drink more. And yet the most impractical cup – it can leak from the top and it’s not dishwasher safe – has done what I’ve wanted for years. It begged the questions..

What the fuck was happening?!

Of course when I questioned it my health anxiety went to ‘you’re probably drying, you know. It’s about time.’ – but that’s just every day life of an anxious brain. I then wondered if it was because it’s quite childish and fun and how many adults do you really see using plastic sipping cups? I’m not sure though, I think that’s just an added benefit. I worked it out anyway: I think I’m drinking alcohol. Well, subconsciously. (I personally am smart enough to know the difference. May not be a scientist but I know my alcohol and have been known to drink my boyfriend under the table.) (Also known for not being able to but giving it a good try.)

I associate straws and this cup with drinking alcohol, and I don’t know many people that drink alcohol slowly. You could easily knock back at least three in an hour without realising. You talk and sip, you dance and sip, you do everything and sip. And my brain is like yesssss, it’s party time, and drink on like I would with alcohol. It naturally links up with something in my brain, that’s wired this way from being a teen – like remember student nights when you could get spirits ridiculously cheap so you kept them coming? (I never went to uni, only the student nights).

Even as I’m typing this I’m having to go refill – I don’t even realise.

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I’ve tried to share this trick with a few people around me, but I don’t think they’re understanding that the cup, that actual cup is important. They went and bought other bottles (and *cough cough* haven’t kept to it). It’s the plastic, you don’t mind taking it with you everywhere and knocking it about, and also the handle which just makes it easy to carry. And the straw. The ‘can I have a southern comfort and lemonade please? ‘Do you want a straw?’ straw.

I’ve thought before that maybe I couldn’t drink a lot of water because my body just doesn’t want it, forgetting how much I could easily drink if there was a spirit involved.

And now I sound like an alcoholic, which oh, well, I do sound like an alcoholic. But not me, anxiety and depression, yes, but not alcoholic.

So this post has gone to something healthy to alcohol. Literal opposites. I came to a point though, after the shock, of being like fuck it. It sounds like an awful reason for my brain to easily drink water, but it makes sense that psychologically I’m tricking myself, and if that’s what it takes I’m not going to stop it. For one reason – it works. The ace of hearts is on the wall and Darren Brown has explained how, but even so, placebos can still work even when you know they’re a placebo. Point is:

This trick works.

(I’m assuming it may not if you’ve never been a drinker) (let me know?)

So rather me writing a post about the benefits drinking lots of water has had on me, you can Google that, I wanted to tell you my little secret to getting started and this journey I went on.

Now, is this all just a sign that I drink too much alcohol? Nah. Also, good to add, drinking this much water every day means hangovers have gotten a lot better! Result!

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Going from one bed to another

I seem to have gotten into a routine of bed hopping. Now hold on one second, that is not anything sexual before you think it! But quite frankly I’m charmed that you would think that I could pull that many guys to bed hop like that. Thank you. Sadly, I mean because of my work schedule, James’s work schedule, my depression and, lets be honest, laziness, my new routine is literally to leave one bed for the next. Like a beauty vlogger; My Morning Routine! My Daily Routine! My Nightly Routine! Bed. I’m in bloody bed. It’s always bed. I’m in bed as I write this. It’s 18:09. 

Let’s lay it out. For the last two weeks James has been getting up at 6:30am for work, and seeing as the only time we can see each other is in the week, I am there. Waking up. At 6:30am. On my days off. I get home at 7:30am and go straight to bed. I don’t sleep, I drink coffee, blog, watch YouTube. Bed.

Suddenly it’s like 10am, shit. I must do something. How about a tea this time? Well, while I’m drinking it; bed. Breakfast? Bed. What’s next? What do I want to do? I go off and do it, and then when I’m not; bed. Maybe bed is my ‘sofa’ because I live with my parents. Whatever, it’s still a bed.

I’ve said bed so many times it’s no longer a word.

Bed.

Bunk.

Chaise.

Berth.

Trundle.

Thank you Google.

Is my bed the best one in the world? No*. I feel like it hardly resembles a mattress with all the lumps, bumps and indentations, probably from me spending the whole of my existence in it. I think the real reason is because it’s in the centre of all my things. My plants I love watering, my laptop, any craft things, clothes, make up, I dunno, everything I own I suppose. But it’s a bed, it screams lay down. Chill. Browse YouTube. Have another coffee. Then before you know it, I’m going back to James’s to another bed because he’s bed is like his ‘sofa’.

It doesn’t hurt at the moment, like I’m not frustrated at how much time I’m in bed because I’ve been really low. Which, god, sounds like the worst idea. I’m still active, I went for a 3.51 mile walk today, going for a scoot with the dogs tonight, wrote a blog post (not including this one), made bruschetta, made probably about 5 cups of tea or coffee… I just rest in bed in between, I recharge. I’m looking after myself. This is dangerous territory though, I’m fully aware. I do not want to go back to the days when I lived in bed and wouldn’t leave.

Now this is the point in the post where I should make a vow that I won’t keep or put myself up for a challenge that I’m just not mentally prepared for. Nah, I’ll give that a miss for now. No Trying To Stay Out Of My Bedroom For A Week challenge. No I Promise To Only Use My Bed For Sleeping vow

Here’s what I’ll do, a compromise if you will, I’ll move my bed. To be fair, I’ve been thinking it a while. Well, like a week. I’ll start that in this post right now actually, so when I get home tomorrow I mean, because there’s going to be a lot to move, like, fucking hell, why do I have a arm chair in my room? (Surely that should be my ‘sofa’?!) (Mind blown) If I move my bed to the corner of the room, rather than the centre, I’ll have room to move, do my crafts etc. I don’t know what else, this experiment might not work.. But I’m giving it a go!! Because it’s not healthy to keep bed hopping and I really don’t want to catch an STI!

That was a joke. A poor one I know. Still a joke.

 

*When reading this to James he wanted me to include that although my bed isn’t the best in the world, he thinks his bed is;

“No, don’t add I think it is, say ‘his bed is the best in the world’,”

“Yeah, ‘he thinks his bed is the best in the world’,”

“No! ‘his bed is the best in the world’!”

“That’s what I said, ‘he think his bed is the best in the world’.”

People get so touchy about their beds.

“Get out of mine then if you think it’s not the best in the world.”

 

Thoughts After Therapy #11 The Final One

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Written after my CBT therapy

Thoughts 7/4/17

Today feels like a celebration. I don’t feel like I have anything negative to write because it literally feels like I’ve just finished school – in a good way, not like ‘yay, no more school!’ more like a ‘yay, I got through it but isn’t it sad it’s over!’ way. The elation right now, surely I’ve felt this for things other than finishing school but I can’t think what.

Today was simply a recap, like preparing me for the future – wait, did I actually just finish school?! I feel like I learnt more important things than school. Oh snap, Mr Harrison just got burnt! See? Totally on a high about it. I’m at a party in my mind. Anyway.. we spoke about ways to prevent relapse. I have to check in on myself, see how I feel and if anything is wrong nip it in the bud with the tools I’ve learnt. I had to write down a summary for myself of things I’ve learnt and stick it up somewhere as a little reminder. There is fear about the future, I’m apprehensive therapy is over, it’s scary being thrown back into the big bad world and it’s up to you to make sure you stay okay. I don’t like pressure, that’s probably it, and now I have to do things on my own and look after myself.

Oh my God, now this is going to sound crazy (well, I did just have therapy.. ) but this whole time I’ve been singing a song in my head. Just realised it’s The Long and Winding Road by The Beatles. My brain is being dramatic without my say.

Anyway, therapy, lets chat about therapy as a whole as this is the last post. Not the techniques but the impact. It has helped me in ways I didn’t even think it would (I’m listening to that song while writing this now, I recommend you do it). She asked me if I got what I wanted from it and I said I got so much more. I hoped that my health anxiety would get better, I hoped to be able to control my worrying and panic attacks but I didn’t think everyday Emily would feel this different. That may be where the being compassionate to myself part comes into play. I’m so much more comfortable and confident. I think it’s put me on a journey, it’s given me a nudge and I’ve had many revelations and questions pop up, unrelated to therapy, but has brought more joy to my life. I am an ideas person, I make stuff, and it has pulled that need in me out even more. A need to do exactly what I want to do. Little things have happened too like I’ve realised I’m definitely an outdoors person, I get more joy from being outside, or being more accepting of people. I’ve learnt the importance in not concentration too much on myself and how I feel, but concentrate on my life, not other peoples life. Also to not place your happiness onto other others. Now, I’m practising what I’ve always preached.

It’s hard to write things like this without the cheese oozing out but I genuinely mean it. I am so glad and I am so proud of myself.

It’s actually strange to think of how I was. In the beginning God created Heaven and the Earth, and then my health anxiety. I would go to bed thinking I was dying, convinced I was dying. I was so mad at myself being that way. I was so sad. But now when my health anxiety pops up? I accept that my thoughts are going a little bit crazy, I ride out the panic with a neutral, unenthusiastic ‘oh, okay, this is happening,’ then when it’s finished, it’s over. There’s highs and lows but it’s okay. I watch my thoughts pass by, where as I would let them consume my body before. It’s gone from my thoughts being piranhas to clouds in the sky. Sure there’s thunder and lightening but I’m not standing there with an umbrella, under a big tree on top of a hill.

The experience is different for all I’m sure. I do think a huge part is just being open to it. It sounds impossible, absurd and foreign. Talking about feelings is not an ‘English thing’, friends and family don’t even like to hear how you’re doing in therapy in detail. I’m quite an open minded person and I had therapy before so I just wanted it to work, there wasn’t much in me that didn’t think it wouldn’t. I know lots of people that have tried therapy and wrote it off early on. Obviously it depends on the therapist and I think I lucked out, she’s cool.

Today was good. When you feel good, things fit together. Bad things will happen in my life, that’s guaranteed, but all I can do is keep working on myself because it’s important. Then when a bad thing happens I deal with it in a healthy way, be ‘human sad’ as I call it, not ‘depression sad’. Before, when God made the Heaven and Earth etc, I knew there wasn’t any point to worrying about the bad things but couldn’t get out of the cycles I was spiralling in. I’m getting out of the spiral now and I’m not so dizzy and I’ve been smiling more.

Plus my boyfriend got me a bigger bag of lemon bonbons to celebrate. Not even joking, they’re going to last me a life time.

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It all makes sense now

So I joined a gym a month ago. It hasn’t been something I’ve been spreading and laying on thick, it’s not a boasting point but possibly a talking point in general chit chat. I have not taken a before photo, I have not weighed myself, I have not taken a photo of myself at the gym or in gym clothes. The only time it’s a ‘thing’ is when I joke to one of my best mates and throw in a ‘yeah, I go to the gym now’ or ‘yeah, I work out..’ and then ‘did I mention I go to the gym?’

It’s also not a secret. I’ve been asking for advise from people that know their shit, mainly about how much I’ve been aching and if that’s normal. Please tell me it’s normal. Its totally my irrational side saying that, my paranoia is a thing that I live with but I work at it. Come on, what actual exercise have you done in a year, Emily? These muscles are screaming, that’s all.

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as I mentioned, no photos of me working out, so this will do 🙂

I bought running trainers because of the pain. With hindsight I probably shouldn’t have started running without the right shoes but my partner and I joined the gym on a whim and we had no knowledge – still haven’t got any – on what is.. correct I suppose.

Something funny happened actually. Not Ha Ha funny, spoiler alert. Like I said, at the beginning we openly asked for advise (because something I learnt is that it’s completely okay having no clue. It really is. If you go to a gym and act like you know what you’re doing you probably won’t do anything) and so, my partner knows a lot more gym heads than I, he asked a lot of different people for tips etc. Every single person gave us different advise. Every single person would disagree with the last advise we got – passionately. Which made me realise that there isn’t a set guideline to fitness, even though all these people were so adamant at their advise. Don’t listen to the last bloke, this is what you do!

Same with diets. (I am not on a ‘diet’ but I’ve been vegetarian for nearly 3 years so that probably is my ‘diet’) (Doesn’t mean I’m healthy though). I’ve had so much advise from different people with what you should eat too, and the amount of contradicting information out there is crazy. What is the right answer? What does our body actually need? Some of them seem so unhealthy too but people follow them religiously. That being said, a lot of people think being vegetarian is unhealthy (and not just because of pizza. Pizza. How I love you. The vegetarians bacon.)

What I’m getting at is simply how bizarre it is not being taught a healthy lifestyle, and when I’m trying to find out the answers there isn’t really one. I can only assume it’s because we are all different, but that still doesn’t give me anything. The only information I was taught in school was ‘5 a day’… and now it’s changed to ‘7 a day’.. The fitness Gods have changed their minds? I personally just want some facts to distinguish fact from opinion. Someone suggested to my boyfriend to only eat lentils, couscous and chicken – is that okay?! I know he hasn’t done this despite buying the ingredients, I’m going to text him saying ‘how’s the lentils and couscous going?’

That was the thing that was ‘funny’. Those last three paragraphs. Anyway..

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This wasn’t where I expected going with my random thoughts. What I originally set out to write was how working out has positively impacted the rest of my life. (Did I mention I work out? lols). At the time of writing this I’ve come down with a pretty bad cold, but I want to get up and do stuff. For the first time I don’t want to lay in my misery and get caught up in guessing what other illnesses this cold will lead to. None of that swine flu malarkey, give me a pen and paper, just give me anything. Well, no, I can get it myself thanks. I don’t work out these leg muscles for nothing. Seriously now, it’s so much easier getting up to go the gym than I expected, and it’s proven to me how the rest of my life is like that. It is actually great. Exercise has been the baseline for stability. With that stability as a backbone to my life it has brought out the impulsive side in me. It’s put me in much more of a get up and go mind set. Just do it. OH MY GOD I FINALLY UNDERSTAND NIKE.

Moral of the story: that actually is a pretty good slogan.