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Mr Willows takes over the willows

with my husband’s permission. I will let his words dominate this post. Not easy being Mr. Willows – just kidding. Slightly…..

No one said that life is easy, no one said that marriage or relationships are easy or perfect. 

It’s been hard for me to write about my feelings  on my blog lately,because of all the shenanigans going on in my life. It never stops, does it? 

There is a lot I want to say  before I pass over my blog to my other half. I talk and type  way too much for my liking.

We are all struggling and we are all working on our dreams. It’s easy to give up and I don’t know many people

-anyone -who has ever done this to show how much he respects and wants to know me and understand me .

I’m waffling. 

I will not hide that we have problems and we both fuck up.  I’m not proud of some of my actions or my behaviour. 

I do know that the man who is so different from me brings out the best in me and the worst. Mostly their best. 

Usually, the men I’ve chosen  have brought out the worst in me. ( they have issues just like me.)

For the first time I can say I chose a good man and some guys have been proper knobheads to me.

I’m not making excuses for those men.

“You are wankers, no more making excuses for you. I hope you get what you deserve. I don’t know what you deserve. Karma is not something I have power over, or even wish to have. ” Daisy aka Natasha Bodley

 

I have a man who has shown me what it feels like to be loved,respected, cherished and who wants our happiness. 

Here is a man, who I get to call my husband.

I’m uber emotional. 

I didn’t know he was doing this. Our marriage has been crumbling  from the start tbh… (laughing, nervous laughter) 

I’m at a loss for words.

So this Mr Willows

 

Introduction

This is a rather difficult situation to talk about; my wife and I are at odds with each other, she suffers from a horrible illness called Anorexia, it is a controlling and manipulative entity. Anorexia has taken a lot from my wife and maybe even our marriage. Through researching this illness I have realised I will never know truly what my wife has to go through on a daily even hourly basis, So to truly understand what she suffers through I have decided to walk a mile in her shoes. I know that Anorexia is more than just restricting foods and liquids, but I aim to try to discover more. The last time I had anything to eat was two days ago (12th May 2017) and I will try to document both my physical and mental states through this journey of discovery. This may not be enough to save my marriage, but at least I will have a greater understanding.

15th May 2017

Weight: 89.7KG

10:15: It has been a struggle this morning. It is very hard not to eat when things are very automatic, the struggle with suppressing hunger takes a lot of energy and mental fortitude. My physical state is that my hands are shaking, and I used caffeine as an appetite suppressant. This is my second day doing this and will try and document often when things change.

10:30: I have been aware that this illness is also about body fixation, I have been aware for some months that my inner legs chafe when I am warm; I am going to use this as a point of fixation because it genuinely makes me unhappy and uncomfortable.

11:00: Housework is both a blessing and a curse. The blessings are it takes up time so you get to switch off the brain for a while and you are doing something so it takes up part of your day. On the flip side I know it is taking up valuable energy and that is going to leave me very weak in the days to come. I know it is going to be hard to hide my non eating but Anorexia is a selfish and manipulative illness. The coffee I had over an hour ago has hit me like a truck, I feel jittery and my heart is racing. I will be doing a small shop for some bits, this is going to be very different because I am no longer free to just pick up an impulse buy, I feel a little anxious about going to be far but I feel I can handle it.

20:07: The household shopping was hard when it came to doing the food part, my stomach aches so bad. I managed to force myself through it. I guess this is something my wife has to often, it takes so much energy to get through all you want to do is hide away and sleep off the hunger. It fails in comparison to having to cook for my daughter, it was hard not to pick at the food or fall in to what I have always done (cook a little extra for myself. I just want to see this through because I need to understand what my wife goes through on a daily basis. The fuzziness in my head feels very strange; I will stop if I see it going too far.

22:28: I understand why she chooses to binge on bread and cheese, right now, it is looking very tempting just to grab some bread and cheese and just go mad. I hope that I get a better night’s sleep tonight   

16th May

11:34: I feel very shaky today, almost hyperactive. Finding it very difficult to focus on one task when you have so much running through your head. I can see why this feeling is attractive because you get a big buzz when you complete a task, even if it is something you do regularly. I can see in my face that bags have started to form under my eyes and have a yellow tinge. I look a bit more washed out and drawn. I dare not weigh myself because of both fear of seeing the numbers change. I can’t believe how hard it is to battle with something so simple as standing on something, what I can understand even more now than ever what those numbers represent. I promise myself that this cant continue for too long.

17th May

9:30: Yesterday afternoon I had a large hyperactive spurt, I was walking round the house very giddy and wanting to spin people around, this lasted for about a half hour, during this I was running up lists of all the things I can do with the business, being a success at finding work, been a good partner and farther.

So to conclude what I have discovered doing this is this, Anorexia has a lot to do with control and hating parts of yourself both physically and mentally. It takes a lot of energy to get through the day and do simple things. Managing moods has been very difficult, riding high can be very addictive and the slumps take so much away from you. The stress on the body is frightening and I have led a very active life. Sleeping is valuable if your body and mind can rest, this is because I have found when you are asleep you are not thinking, it breaks up the day and it conserves energy, plus I suspect that when someone is in full anorexic mode they don’t have to worry about eating. To think about food is a pain, caffeine helps suppress appetite, gives your mind and body something to do and the caffeine and sugar gives you something to get through the day. Being around food can kick off a lot of anxiety because all you want to do is eat, and you feel disgusted and ashamed of these feelings. It feels like you are in a constant battle with parts of mind and body. I am unhappy with the way my legs chafe when I get warm, when you become uncomfortable with how you feel, you become very fixated on that area, you notice every time you move, get dressed and when you look at yourself. Weight gain and weight loss play a key feature because upon weighing myself for the last time I had lost 0.02kgs, with how much effort it has taken, I can see this been very devastating to sufferers because the results do not match the effort that is put in, this will lead to a big drop in confidence and mood. In a final note, I have a newfound respect for people who suffer from this illness because it is a minute by minute, second by second battle with what can only be described as fighting an intruder in your own mind. I know I will never know the true extent of the illness but I have a better understanding of how I can better support, listen and what actions I can take.   

MASSIVE RESPECT FOR YOU, WE DO HAVE A STRONG CONNECTION ,AND SOMETIMES WE NEED TO REMIND EACH OTHER.

 

okay……..

I’m off.

Dealing with life 😀



Carnival Freaksbut they’re my freaks

‘Don’t compromise yourself. You’re all you’ve got.’ –Janis Joplin

Got to live up to my reputation for being brutally honest, right? I feel so low. I know I post mostly positive posts and come across as having my shit together. I do, most of the time. I can’t pretend that in a couple of months, something has shifted in me. It’s been big enough to derail me – the crustal plates in my mind and body have moved too much and too soon. I have to lean on something to stop me from falling, falling to where? and on what?   What if I just fall and never stop.  How does it feel? I sit back. It’s gnarled at my insides. I have to remind myself to pull the carbon monoxide out with each breath. 

Why now? I have so much to live for, to be happy for. Is this the nature of mental illness? My inner Iago is a great trickster -it can make the most amazing opportunities, experiences that are going to happen or are happening seem like a mirage. It loves to betray me. It loves to jinx me. It loves to beat me. I know it is him but he is good at hiding.

 He is sly and duped my lazy /starved neurotransmitters into believing that they can’t take one tiny step over, from one synapse to another.

 COURAGE YOU IDIOTS!

Man up! I’m on enough pills. I should be a billion dollar comedian with all the serotonin and dopamine whizzing round my brain.

I had a full-blown panic attack this morning. I had to ask G to come upstairs and hold me. This has worked before. I then got up and cleaned up and hit the gym. That helped but it came back with reinforcements. So , picture me mentally rummaging around my wellness toolbox to find the right tool to smooth over the grave bits. The ones that live between my ribs – that defy gravity…

It’s not my heart racing, it’s that space high up in the middle of my first four ribs. It’s like every breath I take is halved- stolen. I have the need to break free, to implode- no, explode from this human body of mine and let the energy disperse. It won’t leave willingly. I need to pick up my sharpest knife , slice myself open and let all the carnival loose.

The freaks can’t stay. I want to accept them but they repulse me. I am scared that if they stay within me, I may become them and I will feel this way forever.

I’m just typing. Loads of errors. I’m hoping I can write myself out of a panic attack. Nothing else seems to have worked.. I am trying to take the least amount of medication as possible. 

I’m due to have a Skype call with a lady who will be making my jewelled bouquets in 20 minutes. I need to send the freaks on errands 

Legless man,go and find a pair.

Fortune teller – read up on everyone’s star signs- dust off your glass ball. Go find some mystery somewhere else.

Obese lady- waddle down the lane and get some organic shit down your pipe hole- and make sure you stop by the pastry shop. Hopefully, you will be too full to waddle back 

Claw hand man – practice jerking off and walking sideways – right, no just a bit more to the right, oops, sorry! I didn’t see the cliff. 

ALL OF YOU – I MEAN EVERYONE. VACATE. THE CARNIVAL HAS SHUT DOWN. 

 They beg me. They have nowhere else to go. Pleading, I can’t turn my eyes away from them despite their defects. I look at them. How can I leave them stranded with nobody to want them and nowhere to go? 

So I write. I tell them I need to cool off. I need them to just go and find something to do and they can come back once I’ve had time to be alone. Once I find peace. Once I can breathe again. I could never make them homeless.

They are freaks. Yes, they scare me but they are my freaks. Sometimes they listen to me and respect me. Let me feel a bit of peace. They come back quieter now and get on with preparing for the next show. I just need to reign them in every now and then.

It’s going to be alright. The order has been restored. I write to live- I write for peace.

I am.

I am.

I am.

I am …

I am…

and that is good enough.



What is your big fat monster?

Write about what scares you the most. What is the big monster inside you that stops you from writing?

 

In order to answer this question, I need to explain how I feel. How do I feel? I feel that nauseating twisting cord in the pit of my stomach, that bit that hits the lungs and makes it hard for me to catch my breath. It is pure fear. I’m waiting for fear. I’m crying with rage thinking that I am going to fail. Going to fail? WHY  the hell have I put those words down? 

I’m 

fulfilling my own destiny if I continue to write, to think this way. So pessimistic.  I’m so sad. Who wants to know about sadness? There is too much of it already in our lives. I try my hardest to carry on and swallow down the lump of sadness and anxiety that keeps rising up trying to force me into regurgitation mode. I try to smile and distract myself by the cows and the horses and the sheep passing by. I make the animal sounds with my daughter. I never want her to know such sadness.

 

My big monster is a haunting sense of failure. As I type the cord pulls tighter. It is my very own Gordian knot but it pulls at me with such a force that I forget that I’m typing and it reminds me that I’m freestyling it. Winging it. Just getting it out.

 

 Letting it all hang out. Let’s face it, I’m not going to become a better writer if I don’t write.  A pause here. My partner doesn’t know how to help me. I glance at my daughter. She brushes her teeth and gives me a smile of pride. She turns around and I suddenly notice her honeyed hair has grown and she finally looks like the little lady she is. She is an only child. She has lots of imaginary friends and is always talking to her friends and singing.

 

 How can I be so sad and have this terrible sense of inauspicious dread pervading my insides? I should be happy! I’m getting married in 8 months. I am loved and I love.

Yet, here  I sit -twiddling my fingers – hesitant. expecting to be caught out.  I’m waiting for the tokoloshe or some other monster to come and turn me inside out and roll me out and shake me around like a big old cotton sheet. Hang me up and then beat the starch of uselessness out of me- for all  to see. I know it is there-somewhere – camouflaged chameleon-like  – waiting to expose its true face. I just don’t know when it will strike.

 

It will be quick like a scorpion attack – one quick whip and all my innards will be turned inside out.  Something has happened to my breathing.

The knot has gone away! Where the hell did it go? Did I imagine it? No, it is gone. I’ve typed myself out of a brooding sense of failure.

 

At least I hope this is what I have done. Has typing down just anything and everything cured my manic inflictions? The one thing I fear – is I can’t write and yet, when I write I feel more contained, a wholly vessel, worthy and strong enough for arduous  travels across the waves of  an ocean of enigmas.

 

Okay, so this post is no masterpiece but I know what cures me. The sadness has lifted somewhat. I can now pin down the real reason I feel sad today.  Before I continue, my partner has just come to tell me he loves me and to take a break from typing. I told him

“Oh I’m just typing some rubbish!”

 

Why the hell do I put myself down so much?  I’m currently holding the title of Atlas… I don’t want his burden, thanks. How do other people cope and stop that feeling of failure? Don’t answer that… or do if you wish to. In fact please do…

 

Sadness comes from an afternoon visit with my Gran with Dementia and Alzheimers. Why does this illness have to exist? Why does my Gran have to live like she does? How can there be a God when there is so much suffering behind those eyes-  her confusion staring back at me? Staring me down. A mischievous imp -goading me to carry on smiling with my eyes. It knows I’m faking it.  

 She stroked my face -touched it like a  blind person -feeling every bump, every contour. I’m sad because I can’t control time. I can’t control what is happening to her. We are all getting older and time is running out and I need to make a bigger contribution to my life and to the people around me before my time is up. I close my eyes and think : When was the last time I really laughed?

 

Oh yeah, two nights ago. I Skyped my mom and I said something and my uncles overheard what I said and started taking the piss about how direct I am. Family…. not going there but I need my family.



The optimistic Anorexic

I know I have been going on and on about my Anorexia lately but what else can I do but pour out all my stress in my head  out and down onto paper ( well a post) I have started eating again and yes, the scales have gone up by 2 kilos. I do feel anxious and think the scales are going to go up and up and up and up – you get the picture. Since eating food again I have finally got my strength back. 

I have the energy to exercise again which means I can eat stuff I enjoy and fingers crossed not put on weight. I still am holding back with portions etc.. but I feel alive again.

 Anorexia had started to take all my confidence again and I didn’t think I could work in the volunteer sector any more. I had started to become paranoid and my thoughts came out in jumbled sentences.

 I was forgetting how to communicate. I felt like a failure.

But, the silver lining is I keep on fighting. I didn’t resort to old coping mechanisms such as  using coffee, chewing gum, pepsi max and other vices to kill my appetite. If I had chosen to go down that route then I might as well have built myself a coffin. The truth I am stronger than my illness. I’ve accomplished so much in four years. I have a lot of livin to do and being skeletal is not a part of that journey.

Of course, I want to be lean and toned. I want to be healthy. I don’t know what has happened but there has been a shift in my mind set. 

I wish I could tell you how I have done it. I suppose seeing what life is like on the other side of a despondent hell has helped me a lot. My family has helped me. I’m stubborn and wilful but I guess that has been  my anchor.  

My life raft. These tr

aits are  being used for a more positive reason.

I read a lot of posts where people with mental health issues are suffering so much. They don’t have the support and help they need. Here is me with an almost perfect little family, my health- I am not in a wheelchair or have problems so severe I can’t keep healthy and fit. I am not some idiot. I am articulate and smart. I am ambitious and a go-getter. This is my true nature.

 Not some vile, putrid anorexic that cowardly hides behind a mask . I got my medication changed and I do feel better. It may just be a placebo but it works for me. It has helped get me back on equal footing with the world.

I’m feeling optimistic again.  I am going places and with one blow the candle goes out and I can turn the volume down on those voices- trying to lure me like Odysseus’ sirens. I’m navigating my way around the rocky depths of Scylla’s cave.  I’m on my way home- to reconnect with my Penelope- my soul, my pure self. My most loyal self. The self  who has never let me down.


Mind tricks

“I feel as if I were a piece in a game of chess, when my opponent says of it: That piece cannot be moved.”  Soren Kierkegaard   #FollowGreatFootsteps

WHY I’V CHOSEN THIS QUOTE

Not an especially inspiring quote  but it does reflect  my mood and the frustration I am feeling at the moment.

There are plenty of us  living with all sort of illnesses and I just like many of you , try to cope with living with them in the best way I can. These days I have good coping strategies but they don’t seem to be working.

I’m using my new skills and upping my game harder than ever and still I suffer.

No purgatory.

Well, there is an element of being lost and not knowing in what direction I am going in.

My opponent not only mastered this game of chess ,he carved the very pieces of each piece,  made the board and wrote the the rules. To say I’m frustrated and stuck is an understatement.

I’m struggling . That is the truth.

I need to start to think differently. I don’t know where the rule book is. I know all the cheat ways to get to my goal but I want to do it in a courageous and new way.

Our fight is frustrating. We feel at the mercy of our illness but we can stick together and support one another. Just by expressing ourselves in our blogging we are reaching out for support.

I need another way. I’m reaching out today becasue I don’t know who else to turn too

Acceptance

“Happiness can exist only in acceptance” George Orwell

Why this quote?

I have days when I am buzzing. I’m on an all self empowerment mission

 

if you don’t like me then talk to the palm , see the worry on my deadpan face.

Not accepting what and who you are and look like is a one way trip to an asylum – I know  this.

Some days I accept I am a “normal” weight  and body shape now. I am not supposed to l have  the body and measurements of a 14-15 year old.

 

I know this but I have moments where I struggle to accept I have breasts, periods, thighs that touch, hip bones not jutting out.

I work out but I am not muscular -I try to see that this is healthy and is a  desirable  look  to achieve and aim for.

 

Sometimes it is hard to separate my old beliefs that healthy =  chubby or not slim or thin.

I wonder if I have made some God awful mistake taking up  exercise. I’ve bulked up and when I see a picture of myself, on a down day. I zone in my arms.

Why are they so big? Where have my waif arms gone?

Not accepting yourself can drive you mad. I know this.

It drives old behaviours and thoughts.

There is me trying to fit in with the world and it ends up like this!

My biggest not so helpful behaviours are weighing myself obsessively -so I may as well super glue the thing to my feet, I do it so much.

The worst mind fuckery is when I ask my partner to take pictures of me. It is hard to accept myself  and be happy in a body when the mind won’t allow it.

It rejects the body as a whole. It zones in on one particular aspect.

KevinCorrado7.jpg

Big arms, no six pack, bloated tummy, cellulite.

So many thoughts scrabble  the mind

It must be the increase in medication

 I eat too much 

Why did I fool myself?

Why did I let myself be fooled that I am beautiful? 

The most insane thought…

Let me upload a bunch of pics of me  in my bikini,not in some exotic holiday place lazing by the pool ,sipping cocktails; but in my small bedroom, pale , no tan, trying to get in  as many angles as possible so I can scrutinise my body.

Anorexia begs me

PLEASE PUT THESE PICTURES UP! WE NEED SOME KIND OF VALIDATION!

I won’t and I can’t….

So this is just a small insight into how even ONE day of not accepting yourself and others can turn your day from driving by in a vintage open top Rolls Royce, past cotton fields, the air is a  sweet honey and the smell of fresh pine.

Not accepting yourself or  others can turn into a day of picking cotton, boiling and beating the starch out of the linen, the smell of sweet honey becomes a harbinger, it coats the scent of dead charred bodies- slaves.  Try to mask it. You become the person who sees the carefree people drive by so cool and seemingly  no problems.

I want to be happy so I must strive to accept myself as much as possible. I cling on to the good days and try to remind myself of the days when  I feel like I am in a suit and not a real body.

in other news today… Money comes in and money goes out.

It’s bill paying day  Just go with this one, please.

That is fucking seriously depressing but it doesn’t depress me because I accept that in order to be comfortable and happy I have to pay for that privilege.

It sucks that  I have to pay for it but it DOES NOT  have an impact on my happiness. I know I am poor in money and rich in love – I accept that just a  thought. ….



Why did I eat That? 😀🤔

Why did I eat that ? 

Any cat will know I’m gonna scream bloody hell I’m so fat.

If only I meant it like I’m cool dealing with  a belly

extended like a starved, fledgling Biafran

Doesn’t mean I’m happy when the scales groan  

-too much mass. 

Why did I eat that? 

inhaled beans, and camembert cheese , tuna and peas

Hard core, non divergent, box ticking  Anorexic.

 I can’t throw up. I can’t use laxatives.

I sit with my newfound rolls.

Puppy dog

not cute .

Eating disorder   you smutty little tease.

Why did I eat that?

Mushrooms to grow?

 Or shrink my stomach to  give off a sexy new  glow ?

Only so much fungi  I  can  mitigate when I’ve had an oral mastication blow.

This is not a pleasurable job.

Hands cover my eyes. No mirrors must  ever let me know.

Why did  I eat that ?

A memoir to torment myself – 30 tablets a day – neck it down

Sit on the psychiatrist’s couch.

How about we  lose the meds, you give me the cure

I can show off a palatable pageant, non dentistry crown.

Why did I eat that?

I need energy, Can’t go places without any juice

This ole devil gives me every sodamistic excuse.

The answer?

I’m feeling not quite right in the head.

I’m determined to  live out the next 30 years living free of   Bio-Pyscho-Social, self punishment  misuse.

Perhaps I want to..

I want to stop stuffing my mouth with food

To allow the words I swallow tumble out my own truth .

I want my voice not to sound happy

I want it to be happy.

I want to eat meals without guilt.

I don’t want to be overweight.

I want anorexia to stop carving every single slice of edible part until there is nothing but my skeletal soul

Nothing but the debris of littered thoughts

Soiled emotions

Discarded remnants of self love.

I’m screaming

Pleading for just one match to light up my black holed life

The abyss that taunts

Torments

Each moment

Each breath

Every movement

I want to publish a book of my words

One solarity book to place on my bookshelf

I want to feel sexy without thinking that being curvy is criminal.

I want to feel pretty

Confident that I can eat sushi tonight when my daughter has a McDonald’s happy meal.

I’ve scoured the Just Eat.com menu

The thoughts become lairy loud

It becomes easier to take a valium or a drink

Awash myself clean against the accusations

I’m tainted

Impure

My thighs touch

My breasts are disproportionately imperfect

And,

I don’t want to blame it on Some tasteless comment some child made when I was 12 years old.

My collar bones are disappearing

My butt is bigger

Im not disappearing

I’m not smaller

I want a worthwhile exsistance

I want to claim my happiness

Perhaps my words are my winning ticket to recovery .

Perhaps I need to buy enough ink and paper to print off 6 years of documented writings, poems, plays, stories and musings

I want

I want

I want my body to understand what it needs

I need

I need

I need my mind

To understand

What it wants.

Making friends living on an Acute psychiatric ward

I remember my first meeting with a mental health charity to collaborate and co-facilitate an anti- Stigma workshop/group. This is what I have been wanting to do for some time and here I am achieving my dreams. When I was back -institutionalised in an Acute ward with Anorexia and Bipolar in 2005. I think that the personality trait of helping others and organising groups has always been in me.
I am a nightmare patient.
I always refused bed rest and focused my time on doing things like raffles to raise money for a charity shop connected to the Retreat,in York. I ended up raising over £100 in a matter of days with a BMI of 14.5. so about 41 kilograms. , 90 pounds – I’m nearly 5.8.
In other clinics- I was tube fed and restrained -often by up to four nurses.
That is a whole other story and debate.
I met another man who is/was a barrister and he had a complete breakdown. His wife had been cheating on him. I met an artist who expressed her unarticulated pain by painting. I met a woman who had been fighting Anorexia and OCD all her life and who taught me how to put a Christmas tree up.
I had forgotten.
I didn’t know what life was and what it meant to live.
I met a few ladies, not on my unit -The Acorn unit ( the name pun has not gone over my head). They expressed their pain through cutting and self-harm.
Nobody played games. Although some of us, from time to time would get hold of paracetamol and other shit and overdose to liven the humdrum mundaneness of life in an acute ward. I once got caught out on weigh day with fishing scales attached to my paper gown. The staff was quite taken aback with imaginative ways we would come up with to avoid putting on weight. These girls were hardcore. I met so many people.
I met a girl who terrified me. I could tell she had been in hospitals all her life. Her family could absolve themselves of whatever guilt they felt towards their daughter by putting her in private clinics and the problem was dusted under the carpet.
I had started the process and recovery of eating again and putting on weight. I couldn’t cope. I developed another way to cope, for at least 4 months my day consisted of:
chewing gum
making a coffee
eating more chewing gum
make a cup of herbal tea
smoke a cig .
I was on this loop for24 hours /7 days a week -for 4 months.
I was driving myself crazy in a way that was unfamiliar to me. The nurses tried to lock me out of the communal kitchens and one night I flipped out when they tried to grab me so I started throwing stuff around.
I wanted them to help me. The girl who initially terrified me came into the kitchen and sat down on the floor with me and held me for over an hour while I shed tears for everything I can remember.
All the emotions attached to those memories I had pushed aside. None of these people was violent. We were trying to be understood and to understand ourselves.
I met a young girl with schizophrenia -she dressed like a Goth. Always had headphones in her ears. She was trying to silence the voices. She had been coping well up until her Mother passed away and like any normal person she was traumatised by it and her mental health went a bit off balance again. She was trying to make sense that her mother is dead. She was grieving.
One night a new guy arrived on the scene. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had that charisma of the kind of guy I always seemed to attract. His eyes were full of spark and mischief. A person you would want on your side. We became friends. We spoke a lot. He did a very Titanic thing and drew a picture of me. Fully clothed. I can’t find the picture to load up. He was still going through the DT’s. I will live with my memory of how the picture looked- possibly very trippy. Ha Ha.
Barry was only staying for 10 days before he went to a dry out clinic further up the coast. I don’t know what happened inside me but I didn’t want him to go.
He was a lot older than me but we did everything together.I got him to paint again. I know he had just got out of prison but he was so talented. I begged the nurses and psychiatrists to let him stay.
‘Look! Look! how talented he is! He needs help from you’.
Our last night before we parted ways. We sat in the smoking lounge and watched ‘Pulp fiction’. I know this may make some people reading this go .. erm………what?
I lay my head down in his lap and he played with my hair. For me, the act was more like a father gesture. I suspect for Barry it could have been different.
He wrote loads of letters and planned to come to visit me. The nurses censored my post and turned him away.
I often wonder what happened to him.
I get angry that just because he was in and out of prison for many reasons- he was denied the rehabilitation that I received. He had issues. I am not innocent.
I feel he could not have benefited from a recovery type community setting rather than prison. It’s not my place to say what he did, I don’t want to remember.
It would have ruined the fact that I found feelings inside me. I could laugh again, I could cry. I was real. I felt like a human being and not some freak with Anorexia. Anorexia took second place and I wanted it to always take second place. I felt real.
So back to the Anti-stigma workshop, I am doing. I can’t wait. I have a passion. I have the drive. This is my new chapter. I did have a beautiful picture Barry drew of a dragonfly but I guess moving around a lot means that I have lost other precious memories. I am finally in a position to help other people. I’m not letting this opportunity getaway.

The queen of my mind.

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Yes, it exposes my vulnerability.  I am merely human. I have bad days and good days. This letter is to the so called friend I’ve kept as consul for most of my life.

Dear Anorexia and all the other secondary mental illnesses

I always seem to put this post off. I usually come out with all these things I have  to say to you  at the wrong times. Like when I am having a bath.

Erm…inappropriate.

Okay, I sought you out. I did.

I begged you to be my friend and you eventually became the only friend I had. I didn’t want to lose everything. So, despite how I felt or how  much pain I was in when I hurt myself, I did it. We had a strong bond. Bonds are not easily broken. Not even now, when I don’t want to be friends any more.

I thought you might be a bit more understanding if you understood what you took from me and what I allowed you to take.

You took most of my   life experiences and and  made me put on a pair of  your glasses so that I could only see life through your perspective.I didn’t have strng vision to begin with so I accepted your gift and I still wear them every now and then.  I don’t know why you want me to hurt myself,

Life: everything I have ever seen and experienced has been through a filter  of your making. You have had the final decision  before I get to see anything, so I can then process it and carry on.

You encouraged me to self harm in so many other ways Drugs, cutting, taking chances, impulsive behaviour, getting into trouble. I don’t know if friends should really do that but I only had you. What did I know

You are jealous. I became your reflection..

Your reflection.

I had no life in me for many years.  I was an merely a toy- puppet of yours. Attached to strings to dance to your cacophonous melody.  Sometimes I still feel you, hear you. Pulling me up. Making me go in a direction I don’t want to go in.

Every interest I had, be it watching a movie or reading or going to a rave and dancing or talking to people to try and make fiends-  you stole that from me.

 I allowed it.  I only see now, how awesome I can be without you. Fucking cool bananas.

You told me I was peculiar , not like other people, special, different.

You did a remarkable job of making me think that no body understood the words, I spoke so I stopped talking. I let your talk for me- everyday, every living moment. Every tick of the clock. Your voice. Sounds so soft to others- barely audible- Invisible. To me   it sounds more like a constant shriek in my mind, I feel anything but invisible – I feel I take up too much space.

Figure that one out? I can’t.

I lost my family. People thought I had an ego and thought that I was up my own fucking  arse.

I only wanted  to like me.

I just wanted to feel good about myself.  I thought you could help. If I was attractive to others people would get  me and see all my awesome qualities and my true personality. You couldn’t stop at that.

You needed to coerce me into changing one small thing , then another small thing. You helped chip away everything that made me ME until I was lost and abandoned in the dark.

A vacant spot in a vast pool of darkness.A world of black and white. If people tried to talk to me you turned up the white noise. I sat there motionless.

Every person who spoke  to me or who tried to be a friend to me  -you  would whisper they were lying to us, they don’t like us.

Always

be on  your  guard.

Your motto.

You taught me that. I was and I am  still on guard.

You know what?

Fuck this ..I’m not wallowing in the past.

What I really want you to know is I don’t want you in my life at all.

I was wrong and made a mistake.

I know better now.

I have a choice – it is my choice who will be in my life. Yes, you are powerful enough to try and come between everyone I love. I won’t let you.

I won’t.

You want to be friends with my daughter.

NEVER WILL I ALLOW THAT.

I know your  true face. There is nothing behind that mask. I rip it off and before I can see the true you you dissolve right before my eyes. You need me more than I need you,mate.

 You still try to  convince me that our friendship is a blessing – that you give me strength to live.

I’m pretty convinced if I could find the cord that  links me to you, I would  be brave enough to cut it and I would finally start  breathing properly  again. I would learn how to breathe again. I would succeed.

How many times am I going to have to evict you from  my mind?

Why don’t you get it?

I’m done with trying to kill myself.

You  have taught me one thing – I am not at your mercy to live or die. You don’t get to choose because : I. won’t. let. you.

You crept back into my life last year.

So cunning, so sly……

Look at you smirking -so sure, so smug.

Like a snake, you slithered   and curled around my whole bod. I remember the familiarity of  your touch -cold. Cold means thin. Thin means I’m winning. Your charm  nearly disarmed me again.

In what seemed like mere seconds,your entire body had coiled itself  around my neck -suffocating me. I nearly lost my mind for you again. A couple more months and I could have been back in hospital.

I’m not some new friend of yours that has to be emaciated to believe I have earned your undying friendship.  Today, I live in a body and a mind I  have created.

To  try and cast you out. Of course you weren’t going anywhere. How naive I still can be after all these years.

Why would you  go some where else when you have everything you need in me.

Today,

I am healthy.

You tell me I’m fat.

I’m not fat.

I eat and you tell me to pinch my skin, you tell me to loathe it. You  yell at  me , telling me to grip at my bones.

You tell me the bones have been lost in my womanly body.

How dare I grow up?

How dare I start having periods again?

How dare I have a child?

how dare I put her first ?

How dare I empower myself……

Now,you listen to me. You can make me cry- you know you can.

You know that every living moment I know you are with me, in me.

You won’t even let me be touched and loved by my own husband to be.

I flinch when he touches me because you have convinced me that my body is wrong.

It has taken four years to get to the place I am with my husband to be. You don’t want me to enjoy being loved.

You don’t like affection.

Affection means a chance to be loved.

Your kind of love is   like boiling water and third degree burns – plastic melting and merging with my skin -never letting go ;forever  scarred and deformed.

All this to make sure you have me forever. You feed on my thoughts.

Why won’t you let me watch a fucking movie with my partner without making me aware of my body?

You are sick. Contagious. A reoccurring  infection.

I don’t want to be sick. I know I can’t just get rid of you. For a time I was able to shut you out and started living.

 Oh, what a jealous friend you have been. You plotted and planned – ready for your come back .

Always  had to be the one who has to take the lead part.

You can’t have the lead part in my life any more. My life is my stage, I am producer,editor, stage hand, actor, writer, graphics producer , costume designer, light technician . You dear friend have been made redundant.

 See ,The terms and conditions of our contract?

See this lighter in my hand? Flame jumps from container to paper – it can’t lick up the paper quick enough.

I’m the one who says what goes in the script and what doesn’t

No, I know you don’t like this. You are laughing in my face. What  was that?

I have no confidence,

I’m needy  lazy, a failure.

You are right,I’m not fucking perfect. How many times have I nearly died doing your bidding?

I want to be happy.

No, not your idea of happiness.

I  want to forget about being aware of how you want me to feel about  my body. I want  to enjoy each moment away from the knowledge that my body is just there.

 Today, I respect my body. You don’t need a mask to cover up the fact you have no idea what that word means.

I had so many things I had in my head …. to say to you…

I feel you still don’t get it.

I know I eat.

I have to eat . Don’t put the guilt trip on me if I feel hungry.

Yes,I do. I love food. There are so many more types of food  I want to try and I am still afraid to try . I am learning though.

Every book or film or conversation I have ever had was drowned out by your voice or because I couldn’t stand to hear your voice again , I drugged myself, tried to take my life

– oh so many times.

Yet, I still stand..

You won’t go because you love a challenge. you enjoy the struggle.

How boring would it be for me to just give up.

Oh don’t get me wrong, love.

I have nearly died for you and you happily  appeared to allow it. We both know  you became my friend because you knew I would fight you.

Still now, twenty odd years later  I fight you.

No – you can’t have  increasingly lower digits. I  have set the bar for what weight I can live with. I’m not going to stop eating if I go over that weight thresh hold. – I will cope.  I will get back to my safe weight.

You hate the fact I exercise to keep fit and on track-to focus -to keep me rational – I have found out the  secret you have hidden from me for so long.

I’m not going to binge or take laxatives again. It fucking hurts. 100 laxatives a day for how many years. I’m not buying into that abuse any longer.

You are having so much fun with me at this moment. Forever toying…..

The scales have gone up. I should  know I’ve only been there with  you over  50  fucking times today on that scale. Willing that 1.5 kilo of weight to go down.

I am not having fun.

I am a woman not a child.  My spirit is not  a new born. You can’t corrupt it like you did all those years ago.

I get periods. There is a lot of ‘I don’t wants’ that comes with the power to create life.

Fluid retention is one of them. You want me to think that these laws of a women’s body don’t apply to me. Your arrogance never fails to catch me off guard.

You want me to think I have lost control…….

I see all this and I hate you with every thought, every emotion, everything.

Yet, you still won’ t go away

 You may be having fun but I’m not having fun and I don’t want to play.

You have brought many foes to  my door- snuck them in. Bipolar ,a so called personality disorder, the list goes on and on. All free loaders.

Remember when I was at the height of my career?  You wouldn’t let me become more successful. It wasn’t your definition of success  so you took it from me.

Remember when I tried to better myself and go to college?

You fucked with my head then too.

Yes, I got my degree, eventually. I nearly died getting it.

I nearly died getting my daughter back too.

You like the fighters. The ones that put up a struggle. The  more I struggled the more obstacles you put in my way- one of your finest tricks was the abusive relationship act.

I finally see you are indeed a one trick pony.

Well done, a round of applause.

You are not the master of my mind any more.

You are a bully- deranged.

YOU CAN’T HAVE ME!

I’m getting married and you can’t stop that. Yes, I know I’m vulnerable because I need to fit into my wedding dress.

Guess what?

I am going to have another child and I won’t let your stop me. I am going to nourish life, nurture it like I should have done the first time.

I will be free of the medication I take to stop you from having the upper hand all the time . I don’t think you have  realised,

the fight you have with me, does not just end with me alone  any more. You continue to take me on -you are now taking me and my family on.

You are a threat to my life- no not a pathetic  one,but one full of joy and love and respect. You hate it. I don’t know why you won’t allow me to love.

Where did you come from ? and what made you so malicious?

I can’t be your therapist and provider.

Yes, we are back to fighting again;

I  don’t need tarot cards to know the ending to this.

I’m winning.

Yes, I am.

You are strong, I will give you that but I have had four years of some kind of freedom from you –

You ,dear friend let your guard down .

Thank you, because you gave me another reason to live and want to be alive.  The devil I know or the glimpses of joy I have found in living ?

 you lose,

check mate!

I will continue to  rise as the queen of my mind and your whole kingdom built on flimsy lies is going to come toppling down.

If you are going to throw a punch – don’t let your guard down.

Practice what you preach.