Stupid bears...

Sunday, 29 April 2012

You can't go over it, you can't go under it, you can't go round have to go through it. So what the hell happens if you go through it and end up further back then where you began? Well, the initial reaction is to say "This is bloody unfair", it just fuels the monster, inside it roars with pleasure, applauds you for losing weight, but still kicks you for being so frivolous, weak, such a disappointment and eating. "You dodged a bullet there" it hisses "but you won't be so lucky next time". It is not only the monster that is attacking, you visibly see everyone in the room slump, disappointment pasted across my mother's face, the guilt is overwhelming. I hate upsetting everyone, but I cannot win. If I lose, upset, if I gain, attack. I suppose I just need to bare in mind that either way it will be painful, so I might as well bite the damn bullet and go down the least dangerous path. I will not let the anorexia cause my death, lead me to a wheelchair, wound my family and friends. It is difficult, close to impossible however, when I come to this conclusion, do what I need to do and it does not pay off. It just means I have to eat more, which is never easy, but it has to be done. As my dear friend pointed out, many people would love to be in my position, eating ice-cream, hot chocolate, constant carbs and losing weight, but not me, because I am not allowed to lose any more weight. The more I lose, the closer I get to being sent back to Vincent Square. The thought of ending up as an inpatient once again haunts me, I wake up at night terrified, just at the thought. I am trying to run as far away from that place as I can. As my therapist pointed out I am getting dangerously close once again. My BMI is back below 15, below 15 means critical. It is dangerous, she pointed out, for me to not be in hospital. I was planning to go away, have a break, we were looking at New York, New Zealand, now nothing, I am not allowed to fly, it is too dangerous. I hate that I am back here, being held back by the bitch, even though I am trying. It's just so unfair. All I can do is keep on trying and I will. I am determined to go and see my new little nephews and to beat this.

Can't go over it, can't go under it, have to go through it...

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was going to get out again . .There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked, and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.
Lewis Carroll

Like Alice, when you first fall, you give no thought to how the hell you are going to scramble out. The deeper you get, the more difficult it becomes. Sadly, for most, it takes hitting the bottom and realising Wonderland is really not where you want to be. To get out though, you've got to face dietician, Tom, uses the analogy of a forest. On one side of this forest is doom, gloom and destruction i.e, hospital, wheelchair, misery and death (he paints a jolly picture!) On the other side of this forest is everything I want, a family, a good uni degree, a beautiful house, a successful career, to be happy, my friends etc etc (I don't have high expectations AT ALL?!) But...the forest in between looks pretty damn scary. It's dark and thick with trees and I cannot see what's ahead. It seems easier to stay on the side of the forest I am (doom gloom and destruction), because doom gloom and destruction looks ok at the moment, (it's all painted pretty and pink or something, I don't know, but it's disguised). So, i've got a choice, either I venture into the dark and scary forest, which i'm pretty sure is full of huge scary grizzly bears, ready to eat me, or I stay put and just hope for the best. Recovery is starting through the forest, venturing through Wonderland, and facing my fears. It seems terrifying, every step, every bite, I am on edge, what will I have to face? Tom says there aren't really any bears, I just think there are, I am not convinced. Anorexia is peculiar. It manages to convince you that if you eat and gain weight, you will be in great danger, that you will die, so you become terrified of food. The reality is this fear of food it what is going to kill you. Just like eating will not kill me, neither will the bears. And anyway, Tom says if there are any bears, he'll be in the forest with a huge shotgun, nice to know my dietician's got my back!
So, I have taken my first few steps into the forest after realising Wonderland is not quite as rosy as it looked. I am still pretty on edge, looking over my shoulder at every little sound I hear. I am lucky though, because i've got my friends and family to drag me through the dark scary place, and I know they will take on any bears. The only problem is, i've entered the forest and the other side has got bloody further away. I've been eating what feels like monstrous amounts to me. Piling in the porridge, potatoes, noodles, I have even been eating chocolate fingers (i've gotta admit, although I was pretty convinced the chocolate fingers would kill me and were plotting against me, they're pretty damn delicious). So, after all this fear facing, after donning my ninja gear and taking down the bears, wolves, whatever the hell the anorexic bitch puts in my path I jump on the scales, absolutely quaking in my boots that I am going to be the 50 ton woman and low and behold...I HAVE LOST WEIGHT. The physically impossible has happened. I literally see mum slump and I cannot believe it. "You're gonna need more" Tom says. So more there was. More chocolate fingers, more potatoes, more porridge, more milky coffees, hell, i've even had white hot chocolates and chocolate mousse. So, what next?! Tomorrow I will find out. Yet again, I am terrified. I am dreading getting on the scales and seeing some monstrous number (i.e a HUGE grizzly bear with fangs and sharp claws...that can also breathe fire), but hey, i've just got to remember, the grizzly bear is actually pretty cute and cuddly, if you just give it a chance. The other side of this forest is bright, and i've got to keep going. If not for me, then for everyone I care about.
I remember, as a child I used to love the book "we're going on a bear hunt", it had a pretty good line- "We can't go over it, we can't go under it, we can't go round it...OH NO! We'll have to go through it!" Sadly, recovery is the same, I just wish there were some way to get round it.
I will update tomorrow after the weigh in and such. One step closer to that other side...

I'd also like to say thank you so so much to those who have offered to sponsor me for the 'pound for a pound' idea. It means so much to have your support, I visualise the good I can do if I get to my target weight before I get on the scales and it really helps keep me a little calmer. If you would like to pledge, even if you can only spare a penny a pound, please email me on ''. Not a conventional sponsorship idea, I know, but it truly is going to two amazing charities (see below).

Thanks again,

p.s. Sorry for not writing for SO long. I have had an astounding amount of uni work, so have been running around like a headless chicken all Easter getting it sorted!

New Day

Thursday, 5 April 2012

So, day one of the new regime and I had my weekly dietician appointment today. The day started with discussing the 'pound for a pound' idea with T (my dietician), he was positive about it, so i've decided to go ahead with it all. There are two charities i'm keen to split all money raised between. One is 'The Succeed Foundation'-a fantastic eating disorder charity which is just finding its feet and I really think will do some amazing work! I'd also like to donate to 'The Rape Crisis-Cape town trust'. A child is raped in South Africa every three minutes, and aids continues to spread with epidemic ferocity. Young women are more likely to be victims of rape, or contract HIV than complete elementary education. These statistics are harrowing to say the least. My father was a freedom fighter in South Africa and came to the UK to seek asylum after the murder of one of his close friends whilst in detainment led him to realise he could be next, once apartheid was lifted in 1994 he had a choice to make, whether to uproot us all to go into the new politics of South Africa, or to stay in the UK. He went back to use his fiercely fought for vote, however, decided that South Africa, as it was, was not somewhere he wanted to take his family. I have completed not only my elementary education, but also completed senior school and have now gone on to university. I was struck on my last visit to South Africa how hugely different my life would have been, and I want to do something to help those who were less fortunate than me. The Rape Crisis Cape Town trust works with people throughout South Africa who have been victims of rape. It is a ridiculously worthwhile cause, so any support would be appreciated.

What to do?

Right, well, at my weigh in today it was not the greatest news, i'd dropped back down to 38.5kg. (Just shy of 85pounds, or 6stone 1 pound). Tom said this should act as even more motivation, for the past couple of weeks, i've been losing at a rate of a kilo a week, he pointed out that keep on going, and i've got about 2 weeks before i'm back in hospital with no choice about it. He also said such massive drops have put my heart at considerable risk, as well as my other vital organs. All the more reason to keep on going. So, I need to get from 85 pounds, to 103 pounds (at least). That's 18 pounds to gain. If you would like to pledge to the 'Pound for a pound' idea, please email me on, stating how much you'd like to give for each pound I gain, or pledge on Facebook. Once i've got to my target weight, I will start rounding up the money. Alternatively, I'll have a sponsorship form on me, so if you see me, just sign up. To get from 75pounds, of this 85 has taken me about 10 months, so I really need to get this show on the road. I don't plan for these next 18 to take up all that time!
Will keep you posted on my progress, started the day well with the news of my two beautiful new nephews Louis and Charlie and a bowl of porridge. On the up!

New Leaf

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

I've been 'in recovery' for almost a year now, I realised depressingly and God, has it been a tricky one? I felt teary looking back at photos of myself from before I went travelling. Admittedly, I was not in a healthy place then, but I was doing a hell of a lot better than I am now. The most noticable difference is how much happier I look, out with friends, drinking, out for dinner, all things I find incredibly difficult now. I have been looking forward to Easter for weeks, countingdown the days until myfriends were home, indescripably excited about catching up with the girls,but then it came, and I was terrified. Anorexia has made me find it almost impossible to go out like I usedto love to. Why?
Because i'm so scared people will think 'Maya's gained weight' and because i'm dreading that line 'oh, you look well',
loosely translated into anorexic speak 'you've got fat'. It's ridiculous, being told you're looking more attractive, prettier, more alive, more colour to your face, all of these things give the anorexia ammunition, make it whisper 'I told you so' and gently drag you down again. Ironic, as I want so so much to be better, but being told I look better sends me in to a spiral of despair. I think its because I don't feel better, I still feel pretty low, ugly and like I can't really eat properly, so being told I look better is tricky when I know I am no where near it. So, toavoid this, i've hidden myself away, barely seen anyone so far and felt constant guilt and sadness over missing my friends. My friends are my armour against this daemon, they have been there to bash and batter the bitch whenever they can, in my saddest moments, looking at the photos which cover my walls, of once happier days with J, Grace, Hollie, Thea, Jess, Liv, Jo, Ro, Tay, Sophie, Heidi, Mouse, Em, Tula, Lou, Issy, (I could go on), has kept me strong, has made me remember why I must keep on going, because I truly was happier when I ate. On the phone to J last night I realised how sick of it all I am. It's not fair that if he doesn't hear from me for a couple of hours, my poor man is in a total panic that i've collapsed or worse. It's not fair that I've barely seen my friends. It's not fair that my family are constantly worrying, and it's not fair to abuse my body the way I have. So, I decided something, and by posting it on here, i've got to do it I guess. I am going to eat. I am going to banish this bitch and I am going to gain my weight. I'm on a downward
spiral again, restricting and losing weight, and you know what? It's not making me happy, it's making me a miserable recluse, so i'm giving anorexia the finger and starting a new regime as of my appointment on Thursday with my
dietician. I'm going to go in with a plan of food for the week, if he ok's it all, that is what I shall eat. I wish I could say that now i've made this resolution and decision, it'll be easy, but I know it won't. It's gonna be a bloody mountain to climb, but at the moment, i'm just living with this disease, and it's not doing anyone any good. So, what do I need to get to?When I came back from traveling, I was about 42kg (I think)-about 6 stone 8 pounds...that's the first photo in the purple.

At this weight I was TERRIFIED people would think i'd got fat whilst I was away, but it's not enough for me to be healthy.
In a matter of weeks, I dropped down to the second photo(orange shorts), about 37Kg (5stone 11pounds). I
remember being
unhappy with this photo as I thought my hips looked huge. It took me about a month before I was hospitalised at 34kg (5 stone 5 pounds), skeletal.
In Vincent square, I managed to get my weight up to about 37.5kg again. I was discharged about 8 months ago. I am now somewhere between 39 and 40kg and honestly I feel huge. I need to get to at least 47kg, which to me sounds absolutely terrifying. It's about 7 stone 5 pounds and would give me a bmi of 18.5. A bmi of 20 is healthy for most, but due to my small frame, I might be ok at 18.5 apparently. The sign is getting a period again (sorry if that's tmi for some). I think that is about the photo on the left, (in a bikini in Spain),
maybe a little less. That seems so so daunting, but if I
want to get better I just have to do it.

I have been much heavier than this in the past, over 8 stone, that's the next photo. It strikes me how happy I look here.
I was bloody terrified about going out so skimpily clad, everything was on show, every lump and bump emphasised by the tight gold lame. There was no getting away from my despised bulbous hips, the chubby bits at the top of my legs, even my bingo wings. I saw all of this when I scrutinised my appearance in the mirror. Although many would argue that none of that is present, that's not the point really...the point is I felt it, chubby
and mis-
erable about many different things. I suppose I was just a hell of a lot better at putting on a brave face than I am now, and because I looked ok, and like everything was fine, people thought it was. Yes, things were far far better then than they are now, I ate, but the extent of my self loathing at times was still terrifying. Anorexia simply portrays that...when the words wouldn't come, I starved myself, and that said it all for me. Recovery is not only about the weight gain (I wish it were that simple), in order to recover I must gain the weight AND learn not to resort to starvation at every bump, twist and pot hole in the road. I must learn to ask for help to get over these obstacles when I meet them. I must believe I am worth looking after, and nourishment. That is part of the reason I find it so difficult to gain weight, to be told 'you're looking well', because most of the time, i'm not feeling all that well. Yes, things are getting better. I laugh again for one thing, properly, and Jacob has been ecstatic over my smile coming back, 'my real smile.' My tummy still feels bloated though and every meal is a battle. I've got to just realise though, as far as we know, we only get one chance at life, so why spend it miserable, in and out of hospital and eventually inevitably dying young? There are so many things I want to achieve in my life, I want to run the marathon, I want to have children, I would love to have my own bakery, I want to raise a fuck load of money for various charities, I could go on, but you get the picture...I can't do any of this as I am now and I am sick of it. So it begins...again. I've been searching for ideas of how to help me on the internet, and found one which struck me 'a pound for a pound', a sponsored weight gain. Seemed like a pretty good idea to me, but i'm not sure anyone would actually sponsor me to eat! Might just think, pull yourself together you idiot, it's not like you're jumping out of a plane, or climbing kilimanjaro. To me, every bite is jumping out of a plane free fall, I don't know what will happen, or where I will end up, i've just got to trust everyone around me and face my fears and hope to God my parachute's working.
I will post my weeks food plan on here later, for now, I will prepare for battle x
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