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Even Academics can get into Violent relationships

 

I AM SO A GRADUATE WITH A BACHELOR OF ARTS WITH HONOURS (in the arts and humanities)

I haven’t had my graduation ceremony yet and with all that has happened this year, I totally forgot that I have finally finished my degree. My other half was going ballistic (in a good way) and looked at me and asked me why I looked so down. I guess either I am still in shock or I don’t think it is that big a deal compared to what other goals and shit I have had to focus on this year. So let me high 5 myself and reflect on how the path to get my degree became – the successful one.

Way back in 2007,I had just come out of the hospital with a BMI of 16. I enrolled at my local college in the U.K. to do my BA in acting performance.

I was with a lovely group of talented individuals and managed one term. I was quickly losing more weight again and my mental health went down. I could not maintain a low BMI. I either had to go lower or higher and I went lower. I managed to get merit (when they still called it that) for my classical acting. How amazing is that?

I wanted to engage with my group but I couldn’t shift the anorexia. I had become a sub-host to it.

Back in 2008, I decided to have another go at it. I had gained a normal amount of weight. I met a seemingly lovely man who swept me off my feet. He worked in the army and ended up going on tour for 3 months in Canada. I went to live in Barcelona with my Aunt for a few months and partied hard. Hit Ibiza with my cuz and when I came back to the U.K I was ready to piece my life back together.

The night I arrived back in the U.K. was the same night the army guy got back and he came straight to see me, bringing me little gifts back from his tour. I was so touched and couldn’t believe we had another chance to get to know this one another again and give him my heart. I invited him for a meal at my Nan’s house the following evening as he was rather ‘fatigued'(such an elegant way of putting it)  from his flight.

The following day he texted me to tell me he was getting his car serviced and would see me later. Later turned into 6pm And 8pm and then 9pm. The curry was losing it’s cool. I rang him asking him why he hadn’t pitched up and he completely dissed me on the phone and told me he was with his family and I can’t make him choose his family over me! WTAF?

If he had explained that he wanted to be with his family then I would of got it.-The lovely army guy broke my heart. He didn’t want to be with me. I internalised all this as my fault. I had put on weight, I had been homeless and had recently found somewhere in the U.K. to live and I thought I wasn’t good enough. I remember walking my Nan from my new home to the bus stop and I broke down. I didn’t know how much I liked this guy until I felt my heart tearing. Each sob caused another tear and another.

In 2009 I was finally in a better place and I was ready for another attempt to get a degree in the arts arena. I started a  two Foundation Degree with 24 students. By week two that had whittled down to 7 students. Again a totally different bunch of lovely people. I fucked up. I stopped taking my meds. I was trying so hard to fit in but I guess I felt a bit intimidated by all the talented actors and talent. I didn’t know then that they were all just as frightened of failing as me. At first I  was coping and I managed to go out get wasted and silly and form friendships. Standard uni stuff. One night a girl on my course rang me and told me to come out. She said the night was on her. I got dressed and put on my party face even though at that time I was taking 100 laxatives a day.

When people asked me out I would say ‘Awesome. I will be there’  I had a bad habit and once I had taken those tablets I was ill. I mean of course, I had the shits. Haha. Never thought I would be typing this but the moment before I purged I had stomach cramps that pushed and pulled and stabbed at me from the inside. I couldn’t walk from the spasms. SO that night I gave a big fuck you to Anorexia and went out to have some fun and bond with some friends.

My taxi pulled up at ‘the only reputable club’ in that locality and I saw my college friend wave at me and she was laughing and she gave me £50 and told me to come with her. It was a bit. Well, I was sober and everyone else was hammered. I didn’t find it funny. I wasn’t in the zone yet. I went to the bathroom and then I went to look for the pack and I couldn’t find them anywhere.

My mobile battery died and I turned around to the first person I saw to ask that person if I could use their mobile. I happened to bump into the person who went on to degrade and disrespect me in the most colourful and inventive ways. I couldn’t find anyone so we went back to mine and drank until………… I passed out mid-sentence.

This guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He was lovely at first but really full-on. I tried to back away. My friends told me he looked creepy. Leave him alone.

A guy from uni came up to me and told me that creepy ex was well and truly creepy and to stay away. Did I listen? no, I let my insecurities get the better of me. I melted into his world. At first it was flattering that someone would want to be around me so much. I didn’t think I was going to get in a relationship with him. I was trying to make friends and I had my eyes on someone else.

Out of respect to my daughter, I won’t go into a diatribe of events. He tried to take my soul. When he couldn’t have all of me he came up with a cunning plan to try and take my life away from me. Our daughter. During this time I could feel Anorexia clawing it’s way back inside. Cold, damp and merciless. I couldn’t allow it home again. I reached out to a couple I know and went on to meet my future husband to be. Before you judge- I have had my karma. I nearly lost my daughter as you may know from previous posts.  I had time on my hands. Instead of being a full-time Mom to my daughter, I was a 10 hour per week Mom instead.

I decided while I battled it out in the court arena with social services and my creepy ex I would resume my studies. This time not in a mainstream uni but an online one. I worked my toosh off and today I can say I am a graduate. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my partner and my family.

DON’T JUDGE -if you can help it.  That is a huge lesson I’ve learned. This piece of paper means so much more than the letters printed on it. It is a symbol – a tangible piece that reminds me of how I got to this place where I am today. I’m a bride to be with a gorgeous daughter who will be four in October. I’m working with mental health charities and I am a stable weight- super healthy. I don’t smoke. I drink mostly water ( with the odd cocktail of course) , I exersise. I am a success. I am proud of me. No one can take that from me. I won’t let them. Always be ready to learn a bit more. I may have officially finished learning but I will not let that stop me from learning in other ways. I treat every experience in my life as a learning curve. Always look for the silver lining no matter how bleak.

How can we help you?

How can we help you? You are loved.

My husband

I’m going to the source of my labelled diagnoses to find a way to answer this question.

Not to look for a reason to blame why I am like  I am, but so I can ask the right questions to help myself get better.

How can we help you?

Okay. The brain goes dead. How I help myself?

Set small goals for the bigger goals  I want to achieve?

What do I want to achieve?

  • A new carpet.

  • I want to clean the blinds,

  • I want to go through my drawers and  Bee’s drawers to organise our space better.

  • We need a new cupboard.

  • I want to get in the festive spirit.

  • Bring the big T.V.  downstairs.

  • I’m worried about Tatiana’s  ( my cat’s) cough.

  • I don’t want to be a FUCK UP!
  • I need to connect more with my mom and family.

 

All achievable unless its a “bad” day.

Write a list to Santa?  ( my inner Santa)

Being self-destructive is tough (sarcasm & truth).

Not as tough as being an 8-year-old child who doesn’t understand why her mother pushes her away. She is also scared to make her cry or hurt my feelings.

 Not as tough as having an endoscopy and no sedation. Having people talk about going for a pint after work while they look at your bowel.

Not as tough as being alone, having a panic attack & waking up in a hospital alone at 87.

I’m so quick to forget about the mermaids tail & a dog that can do anything ticking off Santa’s Christmas list.

I’m so quick to dismiss time.

Or is that just me looking up my own anus again?

Fluent in assholism

.

How can I save my relationships before its too late?

Am I going through the motions as my husband asked?

A firm NO  takes up all the room in my cognitive region.

Before I answer I think again about if I’m just going through the motions…

Today I am going to look up the definition of  ‘going through the motions

PHRASE

If you say that someone is going through the motions, you think they are only saying or doing something because it is expected of them without being interested, enthusiastic, or sympathetic.

Well, of course, I am going through the motions. That is part of the problem.

Get up, eat, clean, sleep, fill my day.

It’s not because I don’t care. I don’t think about the consequences or I forget the pain associated with the consequences.  Or I think about how to get away from feeling a failure in the now.

Note to self: Don’t do things that will make you feel shit about yourself

It’s not that hard to do, Is it?

Maybe I hesitated before answering my husband because I asked myself if the way I am and response makes me a narcissist.

Well, of course, I am. I have spent many years trying to look good, be the thinnest, the most pretty the cleverest etc…

I know I am not & will never be all the above-mentioned thoughts.

What did that mean for me as an adult with Chronic Anorexia?

I don’t take millions of pictures of myself and think I’m better than other people. When I have judged others I try to look at the shitty things I have done or said in my life to humble myself… I am demanding. I can be selfish. I don’t think I am the best. I want to be the best I can be.

Do I live in a fantasy world?

I have done. I do live in a world where I am the object of desire/ importance to get away from who I see in the mirror, who I feel I have become measured by what I have achieved psychically/emotionally/materially. I use sleep as a defence mechanism to not have to deal with the person I am today. My perception of me.

I know what is real and isn’t unless my thoughts about weight and shame invade my inner world.

I have to wake up from my slumber eventually.  Then I convince myself that the only thing that will make me good & empowered is by proving to people I have the money to buy shit that isn’t worth it.

I put a value on what I pay for & how I want it to be packaged.

I don’t feel I need constant praise from others to keep my ego in check. I do feel I need to give myself praise and try & love myself so that I can come across as a person with feelings, warmth & love.

I do struggle to show my emotions. Perhaps its the way my face moves, or because I don’t lie about how I feel or because I’m shit at pretending to be over the moon about something when I am feeling anything but amazing.

When I’m in a toxic phase I guess I do feel that the world should stop for me. It’s unrealistic to think that the world does. I have to check myself. I need to live more outside of my head than in it.

 

I don’t try to exploit people maliciously for my own gain without feeling shame nor the ability to empathise.  I know how manipulative I can be & I have to check myself a lot to try & not be too manipulative. I do sometimes forget how it must feel like to another person to be taken advantage of.

I don’t think I am a person who enjoys belittling others to prop up my own ego. I hate gossip, I can use patronising language & behaviour if I feel threatened. I don’t enjoy making others feel less than I feel.

I want people to be happy & I want people to know that I can be a source of happiness too.

Maybe I am going through the motions but we all do!

If I said: yes, I’m going through the motions

then that would mean that I am a narcissist!

And according to Google: Narcissists can’t love their own children!

What?

I already feel I lack traits that a normal mother gives her child.

Or because of my eating disorder, I have traits of a “vulnerable” narcissist.

If I look indifferent I am also afraid of being abandoned so I try to prepare myself for that moment.

Most of my relationships are unstable -with my mom. daughter partners etc… I can go from having a high opinion of myself to having zero worth in myself in a matter of hours.

I do need to work on my self-image & habits to self-harm.

I have many diagnoses -I need to use what I know about myself to make a positive change.

I want my daughter to love me in 20 years time.

I’m not a child any longer. I want to be better than I am now.

 

Inner dictator: Food for thought

PREAMBLE BIT  -feel free to dig in to the poem and scroll down now

I’m looking forward to  next weeks monthly spoken word night in my  Halifax, West Yorkshire.

Turn The Page  

I get to gorge on my inner dictator and speak for three minutes & perform & be listended to.

Oh, the power over the masses.  (Ha Ha)

This month some regular chip off the old block decided the theme should be potatoes!

If I were the dictator I would not choose to talk about something as common and earthy, and the   -potato `is on  my unsafe food lists).

 Even inner dictators need a slot with their name to dicate for 3 minutes if you don’t you will be denied your voiced& forced to listen to all the other rival inner dictators.

The only time potato poems event  should take place is in   Africa  with millions of starving children with “natural” eating disorders. This is a recipe for disaster because,  mental illness fed by  oppression increases achances of become a real future dicator starving their own people.

So this is my potato theme in yer face poem  

 

 

Hark! I feel the desperate need to fletcherize.

 

What? Is this some new mumbo jumbo, hybrid– combination form of exercise?

Yes,   I would imagine it involves some motivation from a person with no predilections to become easily disheartened.

 

Why can’t you just eat sensibly, stop this new wave of choosing a new flavour every month-

to keep up with fitness promoters incentives to keep people outsmarted? 

It’s a new rage- it’s catching. It takes great skill, I can’t help but swallow great lumps of it, 7 days a week –

such is the weight of my grief.

Sounds like a disease with such a symptom as that. Rage is not all  it is cracked up to be as a moderate form of stress relief.

It is not just some novelty – like limited -edition candy bars being sold to profiteer the next big entrepreneur.

Oh really, so next you will l tell me it is an exact science – proven to actually have more lasting benefits than summers worth of lazing on the beach in a bikini –  eyed up by the oil slick crowd that draws in like a tide -ogling to be near.

Oh no. It has been well proven that to engage in this exercise is likened to yoga. It is a practice.

The evidence for this is where? a desert far away – hiding in the form of H20 in a well prickled out cactus?

Look, I’m not asking you you join the parade and get down and groove with us who choose to exert ourselves in this way.

I know, I just don’t want you to get sucked in the PR vortex and lose yourself with an accompaniment £10  diet plan-

 to prove the results work when you have your weekly weigh day.

Tsk, I’m not just going to gobble it all up without reading the terms and conditions.

Well, I am most sincere when I say I am glad you have paused for thought -slowed down your impulsive urge to guzzle down additional condiments –

and other unnatural apparitions

In practice, I am going to be mindful and chew on these words slowly and deliberately.

Wise words, coming from someone who is usually so careless when it comes to honouring your basic right at retaining your liberty.

No offence but you partake in media shake-ups, that regurgitate out a new shape each season,  with an acute, floundering dignity.

Triangle.

Circle.

Square.

Heart.

Diamond

Potato

 

Mmh, that’s sparkingly rich. I only look up at those who have a celestial essence of shape – one quite like the star.

 

Well, while you persecute me for attempting to live my life in a shape I desire to acquire- with all due respect,

 

I will strive to be what I want to be and you be who you are.

 

Wait!  I need 20 minutes to digest all this information.

 

Now, that it the right attitude – jut enough time to satiate before you give in to more temptation. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sa Roc

I’d be letting myself down  if I didn’t post about my  Eating disorder or mental illness nor if I didn’t write about my body image issues.

I shouldn’t be alive. I’ve been in & out of hospitals sectioned, medicated, threatened with E.C.T. therapy, my Dad didn’t want to care for me  & asked social services to get involved in my life. I had other family members who loved me more & didn’t think that is what families do to their children.

I am still alive (obviously). I wish that kids could learn about body image & emotional intelligence at school.

Body Image is the mental picture you have of your body. It includes attitudes and feelings about how you look & how you think other people see you.

 

https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/types

Hosted by the Mental Health Foundation, Mental Health Awareness Week 2019 will take place from Monday 13 to Sunday 19 May 2019. The theme for 2019 is Body Image – how we think and feel about our bodies.

Body image issues can affect all of us at any age. During the week we will be publishing new research, considering some of the reasons why our body image can impact the way that we feel, campaigning for change and publishing practical tools.

https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/campaigns/mental-health-awareness-week

My stepfather used to tell me I was fat & would eat sweets & cake in front of me. He was a bastard for many more reasons than that….

People with HEALTHY Body Image…
▪ Accept bodies come in different shapes and sizes.  ( I accept that as long as it doesn’t affect me)
▪ Know there are good things about their bodies. ( sure- legs……….)
▪ Are comfortable with their bodies.  (Most of the time I wish I could swap heads with someone for peace of mind)
▪ Are critical of the ‘ideal’ body seen in the media. (Yes

People with UNHEALTHY Body Image…
▪ May think a lot about how they see themselves or how they think others see them
▪ Maybe uncomfortable with their bodies. (I’m not shy just aware of it).

I found  Sa Roc when I was going through another post-suicide blues.

I’m also inspired by her courage to talk about her own self harm & body issues

I dealt with feeling inadequate or less worthy because I didn’t fit conventional standards of what was considered beautiful,” Sa-Roc explains to HipHopDX. “There was also a lot of unexpressed anger and pain that I didn’t feel comfortable or courageous enough to share with my loved ones, so I took it out on myself.

I  identified with her honesty & her strength, and her vulnerabilities.

Why?

Because she emcees about how much trauma she went through & thinks that as an artist she needs to empower women especially in the one-dimensional world we live on social media. She has her own style &  doesn’t conform to any style but her own. She has a message. She wants other women to feel free & she wants to break the discrimination of men in the industry dismissing talented & credible female emcees.

People forget that women have been instrumental in Hip Hop since its inception,” she says. “Most of us are really familiar with the early male Hip Hop icons and pioneers, but women have been present and just as instrumental since the beginning. One of those women, who my name actually pays homage to, is Sha-Rock.

SA ROC

Her album is a personal inspection of how her experiences and childhood shaped her personal views.

Sa Roc is in a league of her own because she wants other women to feel empowered and to be self-defined on their terms.

I look to the past a lot.

And worry about the future.

I lived in other homes though I had a home.

I was lost.

I was dying.

I survived.

I’ve looked to others for approval to my detriment.

I’ve turned away from people who put me down.

I’ve been fighting an eating disorder-Anorexia since I was 5 years old. It is a chronic illness & I have a Bipolar & Emotionally unstable Personality disorder too.

But I think I just had a very mixed up childhood & responded to trauma by turning on myself. I had a lot of love and a lot of craziness.

I love my family.

I’ve erased /dissociated from my memories of the past. I have huge gaping holes of cosmic proportions. I have blacked out so much.

I’ve been in many hospitals for suicide attempts mine or watched family close to me harm themselves others, Sectioned many times, I’ve been drugged by doctors, men, myself.

It doesn’t make me a victim. I know how hard I fight with my thoughts every second of the day.

I too live with my guilt

I have moments when I Think I’m worth it. 😉

I can’t seem to confirm. Even when I try……

I always get back up after getting knocked down.

Sa Roc is proud of her African heritage &  she embraces it.

I am not a black African, I am a white South Africa. Lived there for many years.

I was from the pre &  post-apartheid era.  I mixed with as many cultures as I came across. There are many.

I’ve seen a lot of gun crime – had one pointed to my head, seen my mates owing money to drug dealers with guns, I’ve met diamond smugglers & nearly ended up dead. I almost lost my life to living with Niagarians. Attending to the bar & getting addicted very quickly. I’ve had Mandrax dealers set a dog on me.  I’ve just seen a lot of guns. South Africa, yaar?

I have regrets ( I’m working to not dwell on them)

I dig the chorus cos it lends the tune a bit of soul.

I’ve starved myself physically, emotionally & spiritually

The chorus is like a mantra I  sing to trick myself into believing a lot.

I love stars (even if they are dying)

I’ve self-harmed in so many ways -self-harm, knives, drugs,  toxic people…

I was advised by my doctor & professionals to have an abortion in 2010. I regret my actions though I know I did the right thing.

I went on to have my daughter who will be 8 in October.

I’ve had many break downs and I’m still here.

I’ve fought many people & gained strong allies too.

I’m on a spiritual journey not religious.

My eating disorder consumes me.

I too don’t know what I would do if I could reverse time?

I have experienced a  life that many people wouldn’t believe if I told them.

I’ve had gold teeth 😀

I love the drumming bit in 3.18 min ( What a #goatbah)

She’s got gumption.

Listen more………. 😀

Read in between the lines

A few years ago (when I was in college) I tried to make money & raise awareness of my eating disorder by sharing my story with a scrupulous magazine. ( many years ago) & all my words, my moms were distorted.

I was naive. Don’t buy into any one’s media hype if it makes you feel shit about yourself.

The article ended up pitting me & my Mom against one another.

I don’t believe my Mom made me anorexiC Be careful of what the media is doing and how it wants to portray people. Sensationalised bullshit.

First of all, I have never called my Mom – ‘mum’.

If they can twist words then they can make us want to look like people who don’t even exist.

I hate being skinny but I love the security it gives me.

I hate being hungry & I hate feeling full.

Mum made me an Anorexic.     

Nobody talks like this and these are not my written words!

I’m glad I wrote these words.

It’s not dementia

Some folk say I speak too much

I say that’s rich.

 

I’m not even 40 years old & my bones are crumbling

Hind sights a bitch

Hell – a sight so unappealing

it brings me out in an itch

A rash of nervous eczema.

 

Today is my first adventure

with my partial denture

Like life, it’s only temporary

at least I’m not doing time in a state penitentiary

 

I can’t speak

this foreign object prevents me from talking

properly

 

The older I get I realise how naive I was to forget

that my mind is my greatest asset

 

Body, I love you

Looks? you’ll do

I’m yet to find perfection

I’ve almost given up on the pursuit of it

boohoo

 

What is beauty?

Judge we do under a unique hue.

 

Age has its wicked way with us all eventually

I’ll never let go of my character to laugh, be stubborn

go against all adversity

 

No, I  still won’t conform

The shy girl will not come out to perform

 

Inside my pride has been wrenched out of me

And I laugh at the old me

I laugh cos we are so beautiful

We just can’t see what others never fail to see.

You starring yourself

titled  ‘back in reality ‘.

 

Keep Livin

My body isn’t a shrine

Nor half as gory as the scene of a horrid crime.

It’s not that abortion clinic

beating hearts put on a foetus pant

in

mime.

It’s not pretty.

I don’t do chocolate box

Not in my city.

This image I have…

of a body in the stocks.

I may look thin. I’m a result of Eating disorders, body image issues & a wasted life on self-destruction.

Well… I’m not dead yet……..

(It’s painful to write about this cos I’m starving my body, mind & soul. I won’t give up!

So I’m going to eat some sushi & smoke a blunt.

20190516_141400698446744.jpg

I don’t know how much I weigh. I don’t care to or dare to out of fear that I will feed even more into my “issues”.

I don’t look or feel good.

This is me today. Thin & far from happy.

A few selfies to make me feel tons better . (sarcasm alert)

Every day is a chance to start again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Love your body And don’t strive to look like anyone else. Talk about your emotions. Don’t internalise. You don’t deserve to hurt yourself this way. It is suicide. You may want to die & get close to it. You are here today. Make it count.

I’m out of here.

No masterpiece to find here… just words. It’s how I survive.HP-PIC-green-ribbon (1)

Deficit Wordsmith

It’s hard to be a wordsmith

when  brain cells  are deficit in cursive

I strain to see the letters

I  see I want to get betters.

If these are the only words I write

Today, a   better ‘morrow insight.

Expectations

“If you spent your life concentrating on what everyone else thought of you, would you forget who you really were? What if the face you showed the world turned out to be a mask… with nothing beneath it?”
Jodi Picoult   

WHY HAVE I CHOSEN THIS QUOTE?

I don’t know about you but I expect only the best from myself. I do this and I set myself up to fail or I am shocked when I succeed.  Can you believe that a lot of people who’s aims and expectations are to succeed when we do succeed -this is the one thing that terrifies them? SUCCESS.

We all have expectations and they have a habit of reflecting yourself and your expectation in other peoples eyes.

Now not only do you have expectations but you interpret that everyone has these expectations of you. Not necessarily true.

It is scary when someone decides to lean on you for survival

Someone you love  gets ill

You suddenly start achieving your goals and you have finally got peoples attention. EEEK. Now what? you feel under-qualified

You have to get Triple A+’s on your exams or papers

You need to blow your work targets through the roof

 Work like a demon,Get into shape and look like a boss on your wedding day  😀

The list is endless.

This quote reminds me to do only what I can. I don’t want to lose myself in ‘I shoulda and I coulda’s

I don’t want to ever have to wear a mask again. I’m transparent ,what you see is what you get. I like being this way.

There is more than something going on inside me but I and you need to be kind to yourself.

Happy Thursday!

 

 

 

My thoughts about the true cost of Anorexia

” No I am not leaving until you give me what I came here for”

There are a variety of different contexts this statement can be used in. In this context, I was a 15 year old girl just under 9 stone if that; sitting in a doctors office surrounded by all his framed merits and accolades. Perfect family pictures

” I can’t give you what you ask for.Sorry but that is it”

I screamed abuse at the doctor. Tell him I am fat. Is he blind? put on your glasses old man. He has to help me. I need strong diet pills and diuretics.

“I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for. “

This went on for a good hour. I put up a good dramatic performance, tears, savage cries, pleas,  threats to take my life.

Until he finally gave in. My Mum paid for him. We left -me with a sense of achievement and happy. I was finally going to be thin.

I would sit in my grandma’s room and look in her massive mirror, with my crappy eyesight and look at my body, pinch the fat I was convinced was on me.

Can’t a doctor get down for bad ethical practice?  Come on I was born in Africa. The right leverage and price buy you a lot.

My Mum was into her reiki and doing a bit of weed and finding herself. She got pissed off and gave in. Just like she always did.  I wore her down.

I’ve never been able to fully shake off my eating disorder. I’ve stopped the laxatives. The heating up 2 mushrooms and drinking loads of Pepsi max and other tricks I learnt to stave off in my anorexic journey. I don’t want to give any vulnerable people all the tricks. I don’t want anyone to copy these behaviours..

All the hospitals I have been in. Sectioned against my will.  The rage. The anger. The weight may come back on me, but this beast: it lives inside me. It is like a tumour or a cyst that won’t go away. to cut it out would cause it to spread and I would die.

Oh, I have wanted to die many times.

Until

I made a pact with life.

I was going to try it out properly.

Like an average person.

Whatever or whoever is average.

I love my daughter and partner and Mum and I have so many opportunities coming up and January is not even over yet. Yet, I confess I have to weigh myself every day. I can’t help but get giddy when the scales show me at a lower figure. In fact it is one of the biggest triggers in my illness. 

Lose a couple of kilos and then the chase is on. It’s time to beat these numbers and watch them disappear until I’m feeling bone everywhere. Jutted out hip bones, a hanger like a collar bone with my big head attached. Knee knocking until I am bruised. Loose clothes…

I hate it when I have gone too far….. I live every day with this illness- this maladie. This puss filled abysses.

I wish I didn’t care about my weight. I wish I could allow myself to eat pasta and chips and pizza and pie and cake and all the yummy foods there are to eat. Maybe when I hit 50 and realise I’ve  wasted so many years in my quest to look like a hung scrawny wire coat hanger.

I know sexiness and true beauty comes from within. The emaciated look is not attractive to me.

Addictive , yes.

Here’s a snapshot of how me- a recovering chronic anorexic mind works… I put on weight in June 2015 , whilst on detox I may add. I hated the fact the scales went up to 10 stone -65 kilos. I somehow managed to live with it. The exercise was my saving grace and being told I am beautiful and sexy by my partner many times a day. Plenty ‘Ilove yous’

After Christmas, I suddenly lost weight. I stood on my scales this morning and I am 59.

That is meant to be my goal weight. I need to fit into my wedding dress after all. Alas, that is not enough for my dismay. That snide critter plugs me in and sends dopamine chemicals of euphoria around my brain. Fires me up. If I can lose x amount of weight. I can push it down even lower…

This is the torment. Then the iron will and battle again hunger starts. The reduction on food starts.

This is a deadly game.

I don’t want to be a part of it. I scream. Eating disorders run in families -well at least they do in mine. I have a 4-year-old perfectly proportioned child, I don’t want to pass on this to her.

I have to keep on fighting and fight I shall. I wanted anorexia so much when I was younger. I’m 35 now. I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to go to the hospital again. I want to be happy with what I have.

The hardest bit is I have a couple of close friends who are seriously overweight but I love them so much. I see past their weight

Why can’t I do the same with me?

 

 

 

How Recovery feels for an Anorexic

Possibly one of the hardest posts to write down- ever. The one that I don’t want to put down into words for a fear of failure and nor giving my fight the justice I feel it deserves..  I need some form of a  creative out let, so I am going to go all Dear diary, I think I’m going to re-invigorate our old diary by giving it a name.

Dear Sid,

From the years 2012 to just before summer this year in 2015. I thought I had recovered from Chronic Anorexia. How fucking arrogant is that?  I started eating more types of food and letting myself indulge a small bit. I got into exercising to be healthy. It was great I lived with a set weight that varied by 1-2 kilograms

Roll on to the present day…

Seemingly from out of nowhere, those Anorexic thoughts have managed to take on Greek tragedy chorus effect. Telling me things I don’t particularly want to hear. It tells me that I have put an extra two kilos on and that is way over the limit. My mind can’t process this thought. The weight needs to go down. Some days I can shake off those critter thoughts in my head. This is great progress from a few years ago. If I had put on a couple of kilos back when I was entrenched in my illness, I would hide away from the world, purge and restrict all food and fluid intake until my weight was in back in my safety zone. It feels like being stuck in a painting with no room to move and evolve.

I have been challenging my thoughts for the past few months now and for the most part, they have been silenced.but then they release a double whopper and it literally throws me into irrational thinking and behaviour.  It grabs my animated emotions by the scruff of the neck and bullies me with my own negative emotions. Then I think I have ‘fooled’ myself into a body that I don’t know how to dress for. I wear proper bras these days, that makes me feel self-conscious and womanly. I am now forced to confront my true identity. This is a huge mountain of ‘oh fucks’ in itself.

These past few weeks I have wanted to scream and ask people to tell me if they think I am thin or average or chubby in places. I  have been thinking a lot about my food intake. I feel myself falling down that spiral staircase into unhelpful thoughts and behaviour. I get angry when I say yes to food and ‘give in’, I weigh myself a lot, I am possessed with capturing my weight gain in images again.

Let me get something straight: I don’t want these thoughts. I don’t. I was so happy and then seemingly out of the blue, the thoughts have been coming at me like arrows. One after the other. It seems like pot luck if I manage to escape from one or another. Eventually, I  know I was going to get hit- in my case, repeatedly.

I have moved ahead in my life!

I said that to that Anorexic part of me. It still haunts me. I could dress in anything. I didn’t have to worry about size-all clothes would fit me and look ‘great’ on me. I was non-conforming to society. I was in the elite who had the willpower to restrain myself. I didn’t need pro- Anorexic websites. The power was all in my head. It reminds me how intoxicating and almost euphoric that feeling too surpass the hunger is. Then the adrenalin kicks and I  get a kick out of that too. The figures go down on the scale and that drives me on even more. Then the food cuts down. Drinking water turns to drink coffee or Pepsi max. Chewing large quantities of chewing gum.

I communicate less and less with my world until I am genuinely scared to go out. People begin to terrify me.  They might talk me back into recovery to stop me from relapsing. I can only see a merging of people. A black unfocused mass. The mass becomes a force conspiring against me. The panic attacks start. The hissy fits and pouts begin. Excessive exercise takes over more of my time and I push myself to go until, I literally pass out

RECOVERY from eating-disordered goes in cycles and not in a linear way. It is very easy to relapse.

I don’t want to relapse. I want to enjoy time with my family. Eat what I damn well like and without shame and guilt. I want the anxiety and depression to go. I want to embrace my womanly curves. I want the next 30 odd years of my life to not be held at knifepoint by  a merciless pirate whose only aim is in collecting things. I am not a thing! I a person.

I suppose this is where I start talking to people, using my WRAP and getting my plan out to challenge my thoughts. Even thinking about going to war over fighting my thoughts has brought on feelings of betrayal. Something- a whole identity- a person-almost- has been in my life for nearly 25 years. A whole quarter of a century.

Not an easy post.. but it is out of my head and on paper. The one thing I have to remind myself is it doesn’t matter if other people read this or not. It is the fact that I am articulating my pain and my issues in a way that releases some of the pressure..

So Sid.. thanks for being a good diary. You are doing a great job. Keep it up!