Letting Go

I never thought the reality of breaking away from my eating disorder would be frightening. I assumed diluting my personality from the nature of anorexia would be a relief, but instead, I find myself dreading an existence without a destructive force. It sounds weird to type aloud, but anorexia has been my centre ever since I was introduced to instability, and now I can’t imagine safety without unhealthy habits and disordered thinking.

There have been various moments this year where I’ve wanted to expand my food repertoire, but haven’t, I’ve had the appetite for it, but perhaps not appetite enough to move away from what I’m used to. I wouldn’t know who I was without my eating disorder, and although it sounds pretty irrational, I can’t curb the belief that if I was to start eating intuitively, I would feel almost empty, not empty by hunger, but empty by design.

I’m aware of how devastating anorexia is, having gone through hell and back with it, but sometimes hell can feel like heaven, particularly when it’s inhabited by voices that sound like angels.

I grew up feeling pretty insignificant and comparably worse to others, so it was nice, despite the implications, to be wanted by something, even if that something meant me complete harm.

As much as I love living the Plan A of my life, anorexia always sits like a Plan B, which is why I think I find it so difficult to totally detach from it. I don’t like the idea of not being caught by the pangs of starvation because I’ve medicated so much with it in the past, regardless of its adverse side-effects, I’ve relied on it to the point of not needing anything or anybody else. So, if not restriction, then what? It almost feels strange to comprehend sadness on a full stomach.

Saying this, however, I know I’ll eventually have a good relationship with food because I’m already learning to be a bit bolder during mealtimes, even if that means the small addition of a condiment on salad. The boldness I show when making food-related decisions can sometimes make me feel uncomfortable or even shameful, but I’ve got to manage these feelings to eliminate the hold my anorexia has over me.

When I first started recovery, I read a lot of accounts from anorexia survivors struggling to disentangle themselves from their ED, and at the time, I failed to understand this. I assume because I was new to healing and therapy, I hadn’t realised how close I was to my own eating disorder, and I also didn’t know much about my eating disorder and how it came to be.

Knowing what I know now about my anorexia, it does help me fight it, but furthering my understanding of my ED also helps me sympathise with it (to some degree), which can sometimes make rejecting it harder. I know why it was created or fuelled, to “protect” me, so the instinct is to run to it whenever I’m feeling threatened.

I’m not sure how long it’ll take for me to be completely free of my disorder, in fact, I suspect I’ll never be entirely unaffected by it, but I am working on a way of reducing its impact on my life and the choices I make. It’s a slow process, occupying an identity outside of your disordered parts, but let the hope remain with what is you and not your eating disorder.

Healing with Patience

Wouldn’t it be great if there was an overnight cure for mental illness? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if trauma was a short-term condition? It would less painful if we could just move on from the afflictions that affect the way we behave and live.

Having been in recovery from anorexia for a while now, I get so impatient and irritated when I experience a wobble. I’m not very kind to myself when I realise I still can’t eat something or somewhere. I feel as though I’m weak, not being able to rise to a challenge that perhaps I should’ve conquered days, months or even years ago. What’s even harder is when your hurdle is easily overcome by others or isn’t even seen as a hurdle at all. It’s like, why is this still such a problem for me…why am I still like this? It really starts to impact your mood and confidence in social situations.

I wish I was better, properly better. I wish I had some kind of certification to say “you’re over it”, but I know that’s irrational and slightly delusional. You don’t get over a mental illness like a cold. We aren’t able to rely solely on medicine to clear psychological disorders, we have CBT, we have our loved ones and we have outlets to help us, but there’s no one cure that can actualise complete separation from our mental illness/es, and I hate it as much as you do. I don’t want what I’m saying to sound hopeless, because that’s not the case at all, we’re not doomed, we’ve just got to accept that recovery isn’t a timed process, nor a process that has to end. There’s no “one size fits all” version of healing.

As the title recommends, we do have to welcome patience as a way of getting better. I know it’s annoying. You want to be able to be happy, free of anxiety, compulsions and ED thoughts as soon as you take a step towards a healthier place, but we actually have to adopt and address various coping mechanisms and pieces of ourselves respectively, before we are as we want to be. Even after attending therapy for my eating disorder, I’ve discovered much later that there are other emotional issues I have yet to deal with, which is why I haven’t progressed as much as I’ve needed to.

If I look back to the start of this recovery journey, I know I’ve come a long way and I’m proud of that. You should be too. It might have been a slow development, but who cares? We deserve to recover and we deserve to recover well. We over-indulge in so much expectation that we rush to get back on our feet, we jump back into work and we show up before we’re ready for any of that stuff. We need sometimes patience and the understanding that patience, although not a cure, will be a continuing benefit for us.

Take your time in healing, it’s okay.

Domestic Abuse: Why People Stay?

Following on from my last post about domestic violence and its impact on children, I wanted to further explore domestic abuse and why people remain in abusive and controlling relationships. I don’t think anyone ever “chooses” to stay in an unhealthy relationship, which is why I won’t use the word here. Everyone’s reasons are different, complex and personal, and there are no cases in which blame should ever be attached to the victim/s.

There are many examples of domestic abuse where the unprofessional advice is “just leave”, and of course, this does not help anyone. In fact, expressions like these are ignorant and unsupportive. Not everyone can simply leave a relationship; domestic abuse presents many barriers for the victims, and getting out is often a terrifying prospect.

When I was growing up, my mum’s reason for not divorcing my dad was purely financial, and it remains to this day. My mum is still with my dad, despite the volatile and unkind relationship they have. Being financially dependent on a partner or having limited income makes it incredibly difficult to escape an abusive relationship, particularly when there are young children involved. Without appropriate funds, resources or a place to stay, leaving seems unattainable.

Living with a perpetrator is also incredibly damaging to self-esteem, and this often breeds doubt in the victim’s mind. Gaslighting, manipulation and intimidation can lead a person to believe they are to blame for the abuse and that they deserve to be hurt. This kind of mental exploitation wears a person down until they feel they aren’t worthy of freedom and love, real love, not abusive love.

A couple of my dad’s favourite lines were: “nobody’s ever going to love you” and “you’d be nothing without me.” It seldom matters who these words are directed at, if they are heard, they can hurt.

Sometimes, love can be misidentified, too. If you’ve never known love that is kind and affectionate, an abusive relationship can feel normal. Without intervention, the cycle of abuse can repeat itself. My parents showed me what love isn’t, and yet, I can’t seem to escape the belief that abuse is all love is. Without the awareness of good love, there’s no reason to flee terrible love.

…”raised by animals, you partner with wolves”.
Eight Reasons Women Stay in Abusive Relationships, 2016

Exiting an abusive relationship is frightening because there’s no way of knowing how an abuser will react to their partner leaving, they could be physically violent and aggressive. And in more severe circumstances, the aggressor may threaten their partner’s life or their partner’s loved ones’ lives, which makes leaving their abuser seem more dangerous than staying with them.

Feelings of shame and weakness are also common in abusive relationships and many victims feel too embarrassed to ask for help because of judgment and fear of condemnation from others.

Other grounds may pertain to a disability, cultural customs, religious beliefs or an abuser’s promise to change.

Whatever the reason for an individual’s inability to leave an abusive relationship, it should not be diminished, but understood, then we can better help the victim and make the situation safe. It’s important the victim (and those that apply) is/are supported beyond the point of physical separation, healing psychologically through therapy and social support.

Need more information or support on domestic abuse?

Click the links below:

If you’re in any real danger, please call your emergency service.

Domestic Violence: The Little Victims of a Big Problem

There will always be a part of me that loves my parents, despite my adult resentment towards them. My parents weren’t the best caregivers to me and my brother, they assumed the only responsibilities they had as parents were to feed, bathe and clothe us, but even those jobs proved a stretch for my father, who preferred hangovers to hanging out with his kids at the weekend. I hardly know my father because of this, and he hardly knows me, but sometimes I think it’s best that way.

Whilst growing up, my emotional development was never considered or cared about. As a child, I think my parents assumed I wouldn’t be as affected by what I saw or heard because my brain was not mature enough to properly understand what was going on. My parents were ignorant and self-obsessed, and although I didn’t have the vocabulary or emotional capacity to explain or regulate my parent’s hatred towards one another, I could feel the threat and anxiety in the air, and that sense of foreboding has never left me. I foster a lot of insecurities now because of the insecure environment I grew up in, and I have my parents to blame for that. Marred by trauma, I find myself returning regularly to that childhood state of mind because she — that little girl — is still scared, and still trapped, cowering under the table.

Domestic abuse continues to be a growing problem and “…as many as 275 million children worldwide are exposed to violence in the home.” (UNICEF, 2006). Domestic violence impacts everybody in a household, no matter who the abuse is directed at, or in what shape the abuse takes. Abuse is never OK, and nobody should have to live through it or go on to live with it. As we know, abuse can spur a vicious cycle.

Having grown up in an angry and unsafe home as a child, I know the impression it leaves on a grown adult. I struggle with my mental health, have low self-worth and have a very reduced personality. I’m not always sure of who I am, constantly shapeshifting to please others. I fear rejection and take everything personally. I also find it hard to cope with everyday confrontation, having learned to scarper from my dad’s booming voice from a young age.

I have been trying to nurture my inner child more lately though in order to heal her, but I do find it incredibly difficult. I believe my adult self is less sympathetic than she should be, having not been taught what affection is or what it should feel like. What you should know is I’m also terribly grossed out by matters of the heart!

However, adult, I claim to be now, I know it’s primarily in the physical sense; there’s still a massive part of me chained to the traumatised child I once was, enter emotional capriciousness.

I wanted to write this blog post today because I think sharing experiences like this one are principal in changing the world. So much domestic violence goes on, and I fear what this means for the little ones. What makes domestic abuse so dangerous is how secretive it can be, violence occurring behind closed doors, abuse happening without physical marks or bruises, and the kids that have to suffer it without having the words or emotional capacity to ask for help. We have to change this. We have to protect children from domestic abuse by increasing awareness and recognising the impact it has on young lives, and the adult lives they will go on to lead.

Need more information or support on domestic abuse?

Click the links below:

If you’re in any real danger, please call your emergency service.

If You’re Alive…

“How are you? I pressed lightly, knowing my friend’s mood hadn’t been the best in a long time. I expected his reply to sound like the strum of an untuned guitar, but I was mistaken, and gladly so.

With a smile that communicated with his eyes, he said, finally, “The happiest I’ve ever been.”

Hearing my friend say he was happy, after years of battling with mental illness, warmed the cockles of my heart. He deserves, and has always deserved to feel joy and excitement for the future, and I’m so glad he’s finding a way through his depression, in order to meet it. We know recovery is not easy, but with patience and support, we can all go on to experience good things in our lives, and then some.

With the hope of better days in mind for my friend, I want to discuss life and the power of living. There is so much to gain from being alive, but sometimes I feel like our brevity and size intimidates us, and we forget this. We forget that life is advantageous to us. Life brings us things, not always in the shapes of confetti or champagne flutes, but by staying alive, we’re still in with a chance of winning something extraordinary. Without life, and in giving up, we’re out of the draw. And we can’t renter the game.

I think of my friend, here, and his struggles, and breathe a sigh of relief; I’m so grateful he’s recovering. There were many times I was worried for his safety. If my friend had chosen an alternative path, we know what he’d have missed out on: the lovely girlfriend he only started dating recently. It made me think, long and hard over the weekend, how life is not only a gift but a gift that keeps on giving. Of course, not all gifts given to us by life are appreciated or nice, but I don’t think that’s the point, I think the point is being around to collect them, and figuring out the rest.

To those of you currently going through tough times, I pray you’ll soon be free of them. I know what it’s like to feel like there’s no way out besides suicide, but trust me, there is, and there are ways to cope, and recover, with the right help.

I want you to know, reader, life can absolutely get better for you. I know it’s easier to focus on the negative aspects of life, particularly when you’re caught between a rock and a hard place, but there are so many positives in staying alive, and with the right treatment and support, you’ll eventually see that too, just like my friend did.

Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
Helen Keller

Need help?

Talk to someone, or in case of a mental health emergency, call 999.

The Midnight Library

I don’t tend to write book reviews here. I like to save this space for topics on mental illness and recovery, and although I will continue to preserve it in this way, after my weekend read, reader, I can’t not share this book with you. I want you to experience what I did: hope, clarity, and then a lesson, a lesson on the nature of regrets and lives not lived, and how one can still find happiness in the life they own.

The Midnight Library, written by Matt Haig, was a tearjerker. It gave me goose bumps. It resonated. I thought I already knew what I needed to know about regrets, feeling them as deeply I do; regrets hurt, and that was it. They remain with you, red, raised and angry.

“Regrets don’t leave. They weren’t mosquitoe bites. They itch forever.”
Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

In this fable, we follow Nora, an unhappy 35-year-old, haunted by all the lives she didn’t get to live. Her “root” life is unsatisfying and she believes she’s better off without it, however, before she can commit, she’s transported to a library, a library caught between life and death, and Nora has been granted the rare opportunity to “try on” each life and redress her regrets.

At first, the concept of undoing regrets and being somebody else is attractive. Imagine getting another go at this, doing it right, seeing who or what you could’ve been had you just said yes, no, acted on impulse or didn’t act at all. Had you done something slightly different, then, what more could’ve been achieved?

It’s funny how, at the beginning of the book, I would’ve done almost anything to get a magical library, slipping into parallel universes. However, after joining Nora on many different adventures and in many different versions of herself, you realise life isn’t always what it seems, and a lesson becomes clear.

It’s easy to believe there is another life capable of bringing us unbridled happiness, when there isn’t. We assume, despite the boldness of thought, that there is an us somewhere, capable of doing no wrong, existing perfectly. We think there is always something better compared to this version of our lives. And yet, we are mistaken, because there is no evidence to suggest that our “root” lives are any less than the lives we don’t live, or didn’t get to live. The regrets are there, but they needn’t be, because we have no idea about them. We don’t know whether one path was greater than the other, who’s to say the one we chose (or ended up with) wasn’t the better one? But we assume, and we assume badly, that the current happening of our lives can’t be as good as the others might’ve been, when in reality, we don’t know that.

The Midnight Library understood regrets to be something to learn from. I understood regrets to be something to hurt from, but I don’t hurt from them so much anymore, not after reading this beautiful work of fiction. I realise now no existence could promise unadulterated happiness, “and imagining there is just breeds more unhappiness in the life you’re in.”

Needless to say, I recommended you read this book! It will change your way of thinking. And if you’re not much of a reader, definitely check out some abbreviated passages from Haig’s The Midnight Library.

We don’t have to do everything in order to be everything, because we are already infinite. While we are alive we always contain a future of multifarious possibility.”
Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

How Sick Are You, Really?

Receiving help should never be about how sick you are. If you are mentally unwell, regardless of how severe, aid should be given absolutely, and there should be no question about it.

As of late, I’ve stumbled across many personal stories of individuals suffering with mental health conditions, and their unheeded cries for support and treatment. Healthcare professionals, despite knowing how cognitively involved mental illness is, are still disregarding people based on how “well” they look and/or how they measure up against conditional charts, and it frustrates me. It frustrates me because I know how it feels to scream and not be heard.

When I first registered with the eating disorder clinic a couple of years ago, I too was “subject to criteria” and put on a waiting list. Of course, I’m wholly sympathetic to the high demand of therapy, but I can’t deny how defeated I felt. I realised that no matter how ill I believed I was, I did not tick enough boxes to be considered as such. To be taken seriously, my situation had to worsen, and although I’m nauseous at the thought now, back then, I could see no other light except the headlights of a speeding car.

I do not condone my actions of mental degeneration, please do not see this as a way of achieving help for yourself. I was mentally unwell, and what I did was incredibly dangerous. Seek help the right way.

No matter what ailment a patient is suffering from, it should never be left untreated. Just because the rash is not yet inflamed, doesn’t mean it’s not liable for treatment. From what we know, acting early begets a better, safer outcome, so why turn people away during the early stages of their conditions? It doesn’t make sense to me.

We also need to remember that opening up about mental health is a brave, albeit scary thing to do, and receiving anything less than help is, if I may say so, a real stab in the back. Being told “you’re not sick enough” is not helpful, in fact, it encourages the social taboo surrounding mental illness which we’re presently trying to break. Nobody is going to want to come forward if they are met with apathy. From being refused or wrongly judged in the past, I think it’s only natural this “sick enough” complex exists, impacting when and how we ask for help.

Mental health services do need to change. There will always be a level of severity when it comes to mental illness, but there must always be support available for those who need it, stressing an aid that is unlinked to BMI, appearance and how “well” one acts.

In this current climate, we’ve got to be accessible, we’ve got to be good listeners and we’ve got to stop showing people doors. If somebody asks for help, let them in.

Bear on bed — Check out Carly’s story here.

Exercise: A Means to an End?

The intention to get fit can start well. We hit the gym to encourage healthier lifestyles. We run to get faster and go for longer. We lift weights to build a stronger physique. We squat to accentuate our curves. We participate in exercise because it makes us happy. The reasons we move are good and honest, and we are benefited by them. However, even with starting objectives as remedial as these, it’s possible to lose sight of them and grow susceptible to the happy little buzz of weight loss and muscle growth.

Improving ourselves is human nature. We like to look better, and the media insists on showing us (their version of) how. We absorb so much content inspiring self-improvement, we barely know what to work on next. Nevertheless, it’s clear to see the spotlight areas of the human body are weight and muscle, and we’re constantly launched into a state of body-conscious panic when we see a toned ad or slim front cover. We are sold golden impossibilities: Adonis, Barbie and the like; we’ve been led to believe human condition can thrive in a fictional form, when the opposite is true. We can’t function in a figure that is underfed, overworked and frail. The media may sell us glitter, but the reality is certainly not gold.

Before recovering from anorexia, my relationship with exercise was toxic. Exercise was never about having fun or making friends, exercise was about weight loss. Exercise was for weight loss. I felt no appreciation for the physical activity I was doing, my satisfaction was served by emptying the scale of its numbers. I was pursuing a physical pipe dream.

Of course, now, I realise there’s a wrong way of viewing and completing exercise, but I can see why I may have thought differently before. We’re not usually informed on the addictive nature of working out. It’s easy to lose ourselves within the movement that promises good things. We’re unbeknownst to the sharp-edges of physical activity because they’re seldom talked about. Exercise can be dangerous sometimes, if practiced in an unhealthy and disordered way. I value exercise, but I value it a lot more since learning its real potential. By exercising well, we can promote mental wellbeing.

I’m not going to pretend like exercise doesn’t aid weight loss or build muscle mass, because it does. It’s a very effective way of toning your body, but we must remember to embrace activities that bring us physical and mental joy. If you don’t like running, don’t run. If you don’t want to lift weights, don’t. Do an activity that suits you. When the exercise starts to feel too much like exercise, switch it up, change the game. Don’t fall into the trap of “all exercise is good exercise”, because it’s not. We shouldn’t settle on a workout just for the sake of it, everyone’s bodies and physical strengths are different. If we continue to carry out heavy and unkind exercise regimes, bad habits can surface and healthy reasons can sour. If we let it, exercise can become a means to an end, not an enjoyable pastime.

Having come from a place of compulsive over-exercising, I also want to push the importance of rest days, so, when you’re training, make sure you allow your body enough time to recuperate. You’re allowed to “cheat” sometimes, too, I hope you know that, because we often forget it.

The Age of Success

I apologise for not posting last week, I was working on an alternative project, and as much I would’ve liked to have been an ambidextrous writer, commanding two pens at once, I realised my stamina and spirit remained one-sided. I didn’t like abandoning my blog for a week, absolutely not, but the additional project was far too important to neglect. By now, you’re probably wondering what this elusive side-venture is, and having deliberately not mentioned it thus far, I’ll tell you: I’ve decided to go to university.

Going to university has been an option I’ve mulled over many times, 1. Because of the cost, 2. Because of the upheaval and 3. Because of my age. I know the latter may sound odd because early 20’s doesn’t sound like an unusual age to study, but I’d be lying if I said the label of “mature student” didn’t unnerve me.

In the UK, beginning undergraduate studies over the age of 21 means you’re a mature student. The typical age to start university is fresh out of sixth form or college, so, 17-18. However, there is no specific or correct age to attend university, let’s get that straight right now; 18 or 82, there’s no deadline when it comes to learning and brightening your prospects.

Defending the rights of the mature student is a no-brainer for me, and yet, it appears my own advocacy doesn’t always leave me feeling too encouraged, hence this post. I want to be as ballsy and relevant as an 18 year-old starter, but I doubt I can embody an age I’ve already lived. Having acquired experiences newly-turned adults probably don’t have yet, I’ll naturally be a bird of a different feather. It doesn’t scare me, per se, but I think the awareness of being older will limit my participation in certain areas of uni life, not because of an established rule, but because of an internal rule.

Call it a bold statement; but we have a problem with age, and whether I speak for you or not, I believe there’s a growing anxiety in growing up. We have adopted the position that with each passing age, the availability to do things, certain things, reduces. It’s as though there is a duration date on activities, milestones and successes. We can’t graduate at 40 and we can’t conquer the monkey bars at 12. It’s ridiculous, really, when you think about it, but as we are, the rule has set like baked clay.

Despite many of us falling victim to the “age rule”, I wanted to share a couple of success stories from later-in-life bloomers to inspire you to abandon any thoughts of it ever being too late to start or finish something.

Alan Rickman, best known for playing Professor Snape in the Harry Potter series, didn’t start out as an actor. In fact, he studied graphic design and opened his own design studio after graduating. It wasn’t until he was 26 he decided to pursue a career in acting. Rickman attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and after many acting roles, namely Die Hard and Harry Potter, Rickman shot to fame at age 42 and 55 respectively.

“There was an inevitability about my being an actor since about the age of 7, but there were other roads that had to be travelled first… a voice in the head saying, ‘It’s time to do it. No excuses.'”
(Alan Rickman Biography, 2014)

You’ve probably heard of Vera Wang, designer of iconic wedding dresses, well, you may be surprised to know it didn’t start with fashion. Growing up, Wang actually trained to become an Olympic figure skater, but after not making the US team, she switched careers and worked as an editor for Vogue. Following publishing, Wang moved to Ralph Lauren and became a design director. After two years of successful work at the fashion house, Wang, spurred on by her own vision for bridal wear, decided to open her own bridal boutique at 40. Decades on, Wang has built a fashion empire.

“People have done far better than me in far shorter periods of time, but that wasn’t my story… it was brick by brick, client by client, store by store. It’s been a trip of passion, but it has not been a quick trip. Nor has it been easy. And that is the truth.”
(Vera Wang Says Keep Your Feet on the Ground and Don’t Get Ahead of Yourself, 2013)

It’s not age that limits us, reader, limitations exist when we decide they do. With positive thought and the right actions, we can make the age count for us, not against us.

Citations:

The Biography.com website. 2014. Alan Rickman Biography.
Available at: <https://www.biography.com/actor/alan-rickman#:~:text=Early%20Life,-Actor%20Alan%20Sidney&text=He%20was%20the%20second%20of,was%20just%208%20years%20old> [Accessed 29 March 2021].

The Business of Fashion. 2013. Vera Wang Says Keep Your Feet on the Ground and Don’t Get Ahead of Yourself.
Available at: <https://www.businessoffashion.com/articles/workplace-talent/first-person-vera-wang> [Accessed 29 March 2021].

Our Relationship With Mental Illness

We can be as deep into psychological warfare as possible, but still find comfort in the wounding thing; mental illness is not a friend of ours, but it’s not an apparent foe, either.

I write with sympathy: my own disorder, anorexia, continues to act as the antihero in my life, likening to a cape-wearing backstabber. I’m aware of it. I’m aware of her sinister intentions, but sometimes I find the familiarity of self-destruction to be entrancing; entrancing for what it is, not for what it does, mind you.

It’s typical for the media to glamorise mental health conditions, but what I’ve found is the disorders themselves can often romanticise the situation, or even demonise the future in order to keep us mentally unwell. Whether this response can be attributed to the virality and unhealthy influence of the media, or the nature of mental illness, who knows. Either way, it’s a damning situation.

Of course, I can only speak for my own disorder, and I wouldn’t want to label everybody’s internal wounds and mental issues the same. We are all ill, but that doesn’t mean the reasons for and the symptoms of are identical or even common to [said] disorder. A person’s mental health journey is personal to them, and so is their recovery.

For me, my eating disorder is a way of coping with stressful and upsetting situations. I have always relied on my ED to “save” me from turbulent feelings that I would rather not admit to.

I was regularly embarrassed by my sensitivity and emotions. What I felt didn’t orchestrate well with the lyrics of my ego, and it played something awful in my chest. And the best way to relieve that noise was to go hungry; a growling stomach was the closest music I could find to unhappiness.

As much as I wish my coping mechanisms were healthy and productive, I can’t deny my anorexia didn’t serve me a temporary kind of protection, however much this point will overshoot the rational brain. It’s almost like hugging a cactus, expecting the delights of a teddy bear.

My relationship with my eating disorder has changed over time; I no longer have faith in her delusions. Anorexia is no longer the custodian of my life. Although, “custodian” sounds too nice for her; less guardian, more Cerberus, I think.

I use pronouns to describe my disorder in this post, but those have since been lost. I don’t actually give my ED an identity anymore, and it’s funny because the image of my anorexia used to be so potent and the use of her name customary.

I’m glad Ana is dormant now. The natural passing of her name has given my own identity some much-needed breathing room.

Despite the termination of my mental illness’ name, I do still struggle. And not everyday is a good day. On occasion, I seek out the old, bad habits of anorexia.

I can feel lonely and troubled, and that’s when the self-harming instinct kicks in. And naturally, my ED is waiting in the wings, ready to exaggerate its billowing cape and mighty jawline. I recognise the deception instantly: supposed hero or not, disorder, you’re no friend of mine!

Checking In Mental Health GIF by Seize the Awkward — Source: https://seizetheawkward.org/