So, at the end of my last post I mentioned making 2014 a year of positivity, not self loathing and negative outlooks and after sitting at the clinic, watching a lot of daytime telly (we are forced to all sit in the lounge for 4 hours and 15 minutes daily), I feel the need to expand on this comment. Our magazines, telly's, advertisements, social media, email spam, even food packets, are littered with messages that weight loss and pushing your body to its limits are a great plan. Now, I am in no way unanimously blaming societies attitude towards weight for my development of anorexia, but, I do believe that it has had some impact on the state of my mind now and my general adversity to letting go of my thin body. I also think that my initial weight loss would not have been received so positively if the portrayal of the 'ideal' were not so warped. I was super woman, I ate little and when I did it was 'clean and lean', veg, lean meat. I was bloody committed to my exercise regime, many days before school (baring in mind I was studying for my A-Levels), then also after school, doing my intense workout in a trance like state. I took it too far, but let's be honest, is this not the lifestyle that is so often promoted as the root to happiness and prosperity these days? The emphasis on losing weight and changing your lifestyle is only further exacerbated by the New Year. In fact, the most common new year resolution in Europe and the States is to 'drop a few pounds'. Bloody hell, there is so much going on in the world and THAT is at the top of the majority of people's priority list? Now, I cannot pretend that I have never been one who had this particular resolve at the start of a new year, even before the days of anorexia, it was a goal for the start of the year, but now, being constantly assaulted by media telling us to eat right, eat less, burn more, I think the issue has got out of hand. So, after careful thought and consideration (I have a LOT of time for that you know), I have decided that instead of resolving to stop things, lose things, gig up things etc (i.e. negatively focused resolutions), it is a year to be positive. Well, as positive as I possibly can be given the current circumstances. I am not suggesting that this is going to be the end of my pursuit of happiness, that magically, because my resolutions are more positively focused I am suddenly going to be ok with weight gain, happy to eat and all around a little ray of sunshine, in fact, considering the battle I still have ahead of me, I predict that at least for the former part of 2014 I'm gonna be feeling pretty damn shitty, but emphasising and encouraging positivity in my life could make this slightly better, more manageable and all round a more hopeful year. I know it's the 5th and technically I should've formulated more of these ideas prior to today and had my resolutions all drawn up by New Years Eve, but hey. whats the harm in doing it now?
1. Spend more time with friends- the reasons behind this are pretty self explanatory. My friends are awesome and make me happy. Spending time with such people is a boost! Also, in case you have any qualms about being happy alone etc, yes, it is good time to be able to spend some time alone, but studies have shown that us humans tend to feel happier when we are closer connected to our nearest and dearest.
2. Each day, give something to someone- ok, so I'm not talking giving extravagantly wrapped gifts every day of the year because, let's be honest, I'm a 21 year old student! I'm suggesting giving anything, giving thanks, to my mum, friends, loved ones for being so supportive, to my nurses for putting up with my meltdowns, do my therapist for always listening (you get the picture). Or, you could always give something else- give a helping hand, a compliment, some lose change to someone who needs it, a suspended coffee. Basically, it can be anything really. But giving makes kindness a central theme in our lives, which I'm pretty sure will make for a happier life.
3. Get the ball rolling with dragonfly- i'm not sure if I've written about this, but I decided quite a bit of time ago that I wanted to start a charity to help those suffering from Eating Disorders, as well as promoting a healthier body image and self loving not loathing. It's been something I've been looking in to and trying to logistically work out for quite a long time now, and this year i'd like to commit more time to it and make it a priority.
4. Love and look after myself- Need I say more? Don't be expecting me to suddenly be writing about how much I love the changes to my ever growing body. Nor how the numbers going up make me excited and happy. Got on the scales this morning and felt absolutely devastated about the numbers having risen. Out of the 30s now and that feels so unsafe. But there isn't much I can do. I am here under section and they're not gonna let me stop now, so I suppose I've gotta keep going and deal with all the shit the anorexia will abuse me with.
So, that is what I am going to try and do with my year, and hopefully, maybe, this year will be a happier one. Right now, as I run my hand over bumps and curves i'm not too happy about, I am not convinced, but fingers crossed it will be ok and there will be some benefits of all this. And for now, people, try to not make negatively focused resolutions. Bare in mind that as you resolve to lose weight, eat differently, etc, you are not only knocking yourself down, but also encouraging negative body image for those around you. I will leave you all with some statistics about the effects of the unrealistic ideal society promotes. Warning, this is likely to be a theme I continue, but I will end here for now.
54% of women would rather be hit by a truck than be deemed 'fat'
81% of 10 year olds are afraid of being fat
Studies suggest that 74% of 10 year old girls have tried to diet or other measures to lose weight.
So guys, with those 3 horrifying statistics, I will wish you goodnight and ask you all to try not to perpetuate negative body image. Let's make 2014 a positive one!
New Year, New Start
Friday, 3 January 2014
“Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right.”
― Oprah Winfrey
So here we all are, 2014, we made it! It was looking a bit touch and go at points, a year that was most definitely sent to try me. It had moments of greatness, of course, but on the whole, I really have been tested. I'm not entirely sure yet if it was worth it, considering quite how tough it's been, I've had moments of hopelessness, sheer terror, absolute devastation and extreme loneliness. Many of these experiences, in fact, I could argue all, have been of my own making. I am the creator of my own demise, and that, makes it all seem a hell of a lot worse. In 2013 I became far more neglectful of my friends, I let anorexia kill relationships, I broke my own heart, I continued to abuse the hell out of my body, I pushed my family to the limits, I became selfish. All in all, 2013 was not a year I will look back on fondly, nor with pride. I am far more likely to remember it as the year I truly fucked up and came far closer to being the monster that is anorexia. To clarify, I spent far more time in the mind of my Edward Hyde than Dr Jekyll. And you know what, the life of a monster is not a pleasant one, for who can truly love a monster? A monster who despises themselves and is bitter towards the World. Who cries for her broken heart and mourns the life she threw away? Who rips and tares and destroys all that dares to get too close. For such a small person, I am dangerous and far too capable of destruction. I am riddled with regrets and self loathing. But with the new year approaching, I decided it was time for change. I resolved to make this year better than the last. To ensure that things improved, even if only slightly, because quite frankly, I'm not so sure I can battle through another year like 2013. My resolution must not, under any circumstance, follow the path that most do. It will be a success, I am not wishing for a miraculous epiphany, just some progress. Some joy. I hope that in 2014 I will measure myself by my smiles, laughs, my strength and love, not evaluate my worth by the number on the scales. I hope to keep fighting the illness and to show myself and others more love and compassion. I hope to be able to use the time before I restart university to maybe travel a bit, work, catch up on life as much as I can. For I am tired of being the girl left at home, bundled up in my duvet 'cos I am so damn cold, even when the weather outside is warm and humid. I no longer want to be shivering alone in my bed, or left in a hospital ward, I want to be a young woman who is out dancing, laughing, drinking. Who has moments of elation and times of love, but who also has hours of sadness and hardship, for without the shit, how will I know when times are good? I want to be a loyal and supportive friend, not a chore to be pitied and worried over, I want to go out and feel sexy, not fat or emaciated, just enjoy the gentle buzz of confidence that alcohol can create. I started the new year as the Maya of a few years ago would've. I went out and drank too much and had a hell of a good night. And it felt wonderful. Anorexia was quelled for a large part of the evening. But sadly, I woke up the next morning despising myself and manically performing my bodily checks to evaluate the damage the previous nights festivities had done. Was my pubis bone still prominent, did the xylophone of my ribs still include the same number of notes, did my spine still protrude? I am stuck between 2 minds, one that wants to live and the other that wishes to destroy me. The destructor hisses the same resolutions many make at the start of a new year to me…"I will lose weight, eat less, exercise more" The 3 most popular resolutions every year. They haunt me and surround me. Taunting anorexia and tempting the beast with the shiny allure society paints them with. So, the fight goes on, this happy new year and I am committed 100% to ensuring it is the resolutions of Maya, not anorexia, that take pride of place at the forefront of my mind.
Happy new year all- this year resolve to make positive changes that don't continue the cycle of self loathing and misery! Health and happiness, and love of yourself. Even the bits you see as your worst.
As promised, shout out to Finlay, a fellow nutter on the ward!
― Oprah Winfrey
So here we all are, 2014, we made it! It was looking a bit touch and go at points, a year that was most definitely sent to try me. It had moments of greatness, of course, but on the whole, I really have been tested. I'm not entirely sure yet if it was worth it, considering quite how tough it's been, I've had moments of hopelessness, sheer terror, absolute devastation and extreme loneliness. Many of these experiences, in fact, I could argue all, have been of my own making. I am the creator of my own demise, and that, makes it all seem a hell of a lot worse. In 2013 I became far more neglectful of my friends, I let anorexia kill relationships, I broke my own heart, I continued to abuse the hell out of my body, I pushed my family to the limits, I became selfish. All in all, 2013 was not a year I will look back on fondly, nor with pride. I am far more likely to remember it as the year I truly fucked up and came far closer to being the monster that is anorexia. To clarify, I spent far more time in the mind of my Edward Hyde than Dr Jekyll. And you know what, the life of a monster is not a pleasant one, for who can truly love a monster? A monster who despises themselves and is bitter towards the World. Who cries for her broken heart and mourns the life she threw away? Who rips and tares and destroys all that dares to get too close. For such a small person, I am dangerous and far too capable of destruction. I am riddled with regrets and self loathing. But with the new year approaching, I decided it was time for change. I resolved to make this year better than the last. To ensure that things improved, even if only slightly, because quite frankly, I'm not so sure I can battle through another year like 2013. My resolution must not, under any circumstance, follow the path that most do. It will be a success, I am not wishing for a miraculous epiphany, just some progress. Some joy. I hope that in 2014 I will measure myself by my smiles, laughs, my strength and love, not evaluate my worth by the number on the scales. I hope to keep fighting the illness and to show myself and others more love and compassion. I hope to be able to use the time before I restart university to maybe travel a bit, work, catch up on life as much as I can. For I am tired of being the girl left at home, bundled up in my duvet 'cos I am so damn cold, even when the weather outside is warm and humid. I no longer want to be shivering alone in my bed, or left in a hospital ward, I want to be a young woman who is out dancing, laughing, drinking. Who has moments of elation and times of love, but who also has hours of sadness and hardship, for without the shit, how will I know when times are good? I want to be a loyal and supportive friend, not a chore to be pitied and worried over, I want to go out and feel sexy, not fat or emaciated, just enjoy the gentle buzz of confidence that alcohol can create. I started the new year as the Maya of a few years ago would've. I went out and drank too much and had a hell of a good night. And it felt wonderful. Anorexia was quelled for a large part of the evening. But sadly, I woke up the next morning despising myself and manically performing my bodily checks to evaluate the damage the previous nights festivities had done. Was my pubis bone still prominent, did the xylophone of my ribs still include the same number of notes, did my spine still protrude? I am stuck between 2 minds, one that wants to live and the other that wishes to destroy me. The destructor hisses the same resolutions many make at the start of a new year to me…"I will lose weight, eat less, exercise more" The 3 most popular resolutions every year. They haunt me and surround me. Taunting anorexia and tempting the beast with the shiny allure society paints them with. So, the fight goes on, this happy new year and I am committed 100% to ensuring it is the resolutions of Maya, not anorexia, that take pride of place at the forefront of my mind.
Happy new year all- this year resolve to make positive changes that don't continue the cycle of self loathing and misery! Health and happiness, and love of yourself. Even the bits you see as your worst.
As promised, shout out to Finlay, a fellow nutter on the ward!
Christmas Conundrums
Monday, 30 December 2013
It is an incredibly difficult place to be constantly at war with your own brain. Every moment of every day, whether spent awake or asleep my brain batters me with abuse and conflict. For a girl who cowers at the sound of an argument, it is torture. So, I am trying something new. I must see anorexia as a separate entity (bare with me guys, I'm not going to start shouting at myself-promise). Ive been asked before "what would you say to anorexia if it was doing this to your little niece?" Honestly- I would punch it's lights out, then rip it limb from limb. I need to start fighting this monster as I would if it were attacking Lola (my gorgeous niece). For me, this is a tricky prospect, and I am only now starting to truly understand why. I do not value myself as I value others. I do not feel I am of the same value as my friends, my family, the other patients here. For them I could kick scream and bite this bitch, but for myself, I just shout at everyone else and cry. People have constantly advised me to value myself as I do others and I think this is partly where I have struggled, for me, that is a big ask, so I must consider the effect anorexia has on all those around me to fight it and you know what? If I gain the weight and hate it, I think we all know I am pretty damn good at losing weight, so I always can. But I may as well give weight gain a chance and give it some time, so I can make a rational decision and choice, because being down here is shit. So, I'm going to do 2 activities to try and keep me going and push me through. The first, I would like to ask for some advice from anyone still out there who has a minute. What would you do to anorexia? Whether I am the only person you have seen it in, or if you have seen it in yourself, whether a loved one struggles with it, anything really, what would you do if you could get your hands on it and why? Even what you think it looks like? I am going to make a visual reminder of what I am fighting and how to attack it.
It's odd being in hospital at this time, it's 12 weeks now, which I quite honestly cannot believe. If anyone had told me I would still be here at this point, I probably would've gone ahead with my insane plan to leave the country (I am not joking). Sadly, I was convinced out of it by my mother telling me I would be stopped at the airport and the idea of such extreme humiliation was too much to bare. So, here I am. The situation is further exacerbated by the time of year. The run up to Christmas is a time I bask in, the day itself presents me with a lot of anxiety and concern, but the lights, the parties, all the preparation is exactly what I love. My favourite part is getting presents for my loved ones. Of course however, the run up has pretty much been non existent for me here. Yes, we did have a ward Christmas celebration, which was surprisingly enough quite a lot of fun, but it wasn't quite the same as the excitement I feel battling down Oxford Street to search out the ideal gift, getting home and wrapping them beautifully with my carefully selected wrapping paper (usually paper chase) and ribbon. Wandering around Selfridges, ear marking all the beautiful things. Getting to carefully select the most beautiful wrapping paper, ribbons and bows then pedantically wrapping each gift to my exquisite standard. As it was, Christmas this year was a bit of a mad rush. I only discovered that I would be allowed home a couple of days before, although this was incredibly exciting, the rushed nature of the trip caused a lot of anxiety. How the hell was I going to eat? I knew if things didn't go well I was pretty much scuppered for any leave for a while, but then equally, the guilt that comes with what feels like 'choosing' to eat is crippling. More than anything however, I was excited. The potential for an ounce of freedom was too exciting to believe. Only a few months ago I was leaving the house, returning, whizzing around London as I desired, the juxtaposition of the radical change in my circumstances is pretty much inconceivable.
So, the time came and I was free. I left the unit with one of the lovely girls whom is a constant source of support and kindness. The second we got out of the door we looked at each other, screamed and ran down the road laughing to each other "we're free, we're free". I'm sure no one around would've had any reason to guess we had just left the mental health building…So, we parted and off I went to try and sort some last minute shopping. Id been allowed 3 hours to shop the week before, however, had not managed to get all I needed. By the time I got home in the evening I was shattered. It was Christmas eve, though it didn't feel that way, and I spent a happy while reacquainting myself with my home, which had grown slightly less familiar to me. The emptiness of our lofty victorian house struck me, exacerbated by the Christmas tree mum had stoically wrestled into place and decorated herself. To me, the coming of the Christmas tree was synonymous with the house being full and slightly chaotic, but constantly buzzing, as my aunt and cousins joined us from australia for the festive season. Sadly, it was our year to go to them in Perth, an inconceivable idea with my current health. So Christmas would just be my mother, brother and I, for which I felt both guilty and sad. Last year was the same issue, and the year before that we went on a large family ski trip (I wasn't allowed to ski), which I made pretty difficult for everyone due to my anxieties around food and some of my medication giving me rather odd side effects. I was, as a result, anxious that I would NOT ruin this Christmas. I had pre-ordered some special ready meals, including a Christmas Dinner, from a high quality internet company, even before I was certain of my leave. This felt far more manageable as every meal was a known quantity, with no risk of me over/undereating on leave. It did feel rather peculiar, sitting at the dinner table with my mother's beautifully prepared Christmas dinner and a ready made dinner in front of me, but it was the most normal I felt I could manage, and it was reasonably close to the real thing. So we did it, had a super relaxed Christmas. And I returned to the unit with a sense of achievement, partnered with terror, waiting to see what would happen at my next weigh in…
Next to tackle, New Years Eve!
It's odd being in hospital at this time, it's 12 weeks now, which I quite honestly cannot believe. If anyone had told me I would still be here at this point, I probably would've gone ahead with my insane plan to leave the country (I am not joking). Sadly, I was convinced out of it by my mother telling me I would be stopped at the airport and the idea of such extreme humiliation was too much to bare. So, here I am. The situation is further exacerbated by the time of year. The run up to Christmas is a time I bask in, the day itself presents me with a lot of anxiety and concern, but the lights, the parties, all the preparation is exactly what I love. My favourite part is getting presents for my loved ones. Of course however, the run up has pretty much been non existent for me here. Yes, we did have a ward Christmas celebration, which was surprisingly enough quite a lot of fun, but it wasn't quite the same as the excitement I feel battling down Oxford Street to search out the ideal gift, getting home and wrapping them beautifully with my carefully selected wrapping paper (usually paper chase) and ribbon. Wandering around Selfridges, ear marking all the beautiful things. Getting to carefully select the most beautiful wrapping paper, ribbons and bows then pedantically wrapping each gift to my exquisite standard. As it was, Christmas this year was a bit of a mad rush. I only discovered that I would be allowed home a couple of days before, although this was incredibly exciting, the rushed nature of the trip caused a lot of anxiety. How the hell was I going to eat? I knew if things didn't go well I was pretty much scuppered for any leave for a while, but then equally, the guilt that comes with what feels like 'choosing' to eat is crippling. More than anything however, I was excited. The potential for an ounce of freedom was too exciting to believe. Only a few months ago I was leaving the house, returning, whizzing around London as I desired, the juxtaposition of the radical change in my circumstances is pretty much inconceivable.
So, the time came and I was free. I left the unit with one of the lovely girls whom is a constant source of support and kindness. The second we got out of the door we looked at each other, screamed and ran down the road laughing to each other "we're free, we're free". I'm sure no one around would've had any reason to guess we had just left the mental health building…So, we parted and off I went to try and sort some last minute shopping. Id been allowed 3 hours to shop the week before, however, had not managed to get all I needed. By the time I got home in the evening I was shattered. It was Christmas eve, though it didn't feel that way, and I spent a happy while reacquainting myself with my home, which had grown slightly less familiar to me. The emptiness of our lofty victorian house struck me, exacerbated by the Christmas tree mum had stoically wrestled into place and decorated herself. To me, the coming of the Christmas tree was synonymous with the house being full and slightly chaotic, but constantly buzzing, as my aunt and cousins joined us from australia for the festive season. Sadly, it was our year to go to them in Perth, an inconceivable idea with my current health. So Christmas would just be my mother, brother and I, for which I felt both guilty and sad. Last year was the same issue, and the year before that we went on a large family ski trip (I wasn't allowed to ski), which I made pretty difficult for everyone due to my anxieties around food and some of my medication giving me rather odd side effects. I was, as a result, anxious that I would NOT ruin this Christmas. I had pre-ordered some special ready meals, including a Christmas Dinner, from a high quality internet company, even before I was certain of my leave. This felt far more manageable as every meal was a known quantity, with no risk of me over/undereating on leave. It did feel rather peculiar, sitting at the dinner table with my mother's beautifully prepared Christmas dinner and a ready made dinner in front of me, but it was the most normal I felt I could manage, and it was reasonably close to the real thing. So we did it, had a super relaxed Christmas. And I returned to the unit with a sense of achievement, partnered with terror, waiting to see what would happen at my next weigh in…
Next to tackle, New Years Eve!
Colour me beautiful...
Sunday, 24 November 2013
“She ran her hands over her body as if to bid it good-bye. The hipbones rising from a shrunken stomach were razor-sharp. Would they be lost in a sea of fat? She counted her ribs bone by bone. Where would they go?”
― Steven Levenkron,
― Steven Levenkron,
 |
| Life in glorious colour |
Time drags on
Thursday, 14 November 2013
I am the girl who tried to disappear. The one who broke apart and drifted in the wind. Let go of herself so she didn't have to deal with life. I am the girl in the photos with the cheshire cat smile, stretched garishly across my face, all the while people wondering when she will next fade again. I am the one who fell down the rabbit hole and doesn't know how to get out again. The one people stopped looking for, realised was a lost cause. I wandered off the map and path that was set out, so deep into the gloom that the search seemed frivolous. That is who I am now. I don't know who else. All I know is that I am the girl who failed. I am failing at recovery, yet failing at life. I am failing at succeeding. I never meet expectations. I am always lagging behind.
I am tired.
I am lost.
Third time lucky?
Sunday, 27 October 2013
“Recovery feels like shit. It didn't feel like I was doing something good; it felt like I was giving up. It feels like having to learn how to walk all over again.”
― Portia de Rossi
Trying to eat again releases bizarre feelings. The creature bites, kicks, screams and claws its way through my brain. It feels like you are betraying your best friend, but at the same time slapping your worst enemy in the face. She has stood by me, solidly and reliably for years now, when I was scared or sad I always had the comfort of my rib cage, there to show me that I was good. I was thin. I could always be thinner though. I've been here 2 weeks now and to be perfectly honest, I feel like absolute shit. My weight has bounced around the place. My first few days, it continued to drop quite rapidly, but at that stage I was only having to consume cups of hot milk and two muller corners a day. My poor little body wasn't up to anymore and suddenly coming out of starvation wouldn't have done it any good. Gradually, my diet has been built up, now it is at the stage when I am having to eat: a big bowl of cornflakes and 250ml milk, 2 slices of toast and peanut butter, 250ml hot milk (coffee in it of course), a large main meal (always with carbs), a muller corner yoghurt, 100ml juice, 250ml hot milk with coffee (again), another large main meal, muller corner yoghurt, 100ml fruit juice, 250ml hot milk and coffee, another slice of toast and peanut butter. It is absolutely terrifying and I feel as it my body has ballooned. I am still being weighed daily, every morning at 6am, and whereas before my weight was hardly moving, it seems to now be making up for lost time. It has quite literally been coming on leaps and bounds and I am absolutely horrified. The speed at which it's climbing simply proves to me that my body is not built for food. If I eat, I will get fat. I don't need as much as other people and therefore, it's easier if I just don't eat than having to worry that every bite I take might cause me to balloon. It's insane how warped your brain becomes, a bmi of 15 seems colossal and unnecessary and the apprehension over soon reaching it is keeping me awake at night. I do know, however, somewhere in my rather peculiar mind, that I am doing the right thing. One cannot live a life with anorexia, as it is simply not a life.Every moment is dominated by fear, self loathing, routine and compulsion and there is very little room for anything else. So, although I'm scared, I know I must keep going.
The unit is a friendly environment at the moment,which makes all the difference. There are some lovely patients about, with ages ranging from 18 to 70. All the girls have been incredibly supportive, and one of the most vital part of my treatment thus far has been the sense of solidarity and security. One of the girls said a few days ago,when I was having a complete meltdown..."Maya, you will get through this, even if I have to drag you half the way, you can get better". Her belief in me has made such a difference. Of course, Vincent Square is still rife with bizarre behaviours relating to food, exercise, everything really. People pacing the corridors, desperate to burn a few extra calories, pocketing toast, arguing over the size of potatoes. I am not exempt, behaving in a hysterical way when it comes to food. So, that's where I am right now really. Simply trying to plod along. I have come to realise that whatever I do,it will feel like shit, so id rather try to get over this and have the prospect of a happy life than settle for a half life in a dungeon.
― Portia de Rossi
Trying to eat again releases bizarre feelings. The creature bites, kicks, screams and claws its way through my brain. It feels like you are betraying your best friend, but at the same time slapping your worst enemy in the face. She has stood by me, solidly and reliably for years now, when I was scared or sad I always had the comfort of my rib cage, there to show me that I was good. I was thin. I could always be thinner though. I've been here 2 weeks now and to be perfectly honest, I feel like absolute shit. My weight has bounced around the place. My first few days, it continued to drop quite rapidly, but at that stage I was only having to consume cups of hot milk and two muller corners a day. My poor little body wasn't up to anymore and suddenly coming out of starvation wouldn't have done it any good. Gradually, my diet has been built up, now it is at the stage when I am having to eat: a big bowl of cornflakes and 250ml milk, 2 slices of toast and peanut butter, 250ml hot milk (coffee in it of course), a large main meal (always with carbs), a muller corner yoghurt, 100ml juice, 250ml hot milk with coffee (again), another large main meal, muller corner yoghurt, 100ml fruit juice, 250ml hot milk and coffee, another slice of toast and peanut butter. It is absolutely terrifying and I feel as it my body has ballooned. I am still being weighed daily, every morning at 6am, and whereas before my weight was hardly moving, it seems to now be making up for lost time. It has quite literally been coming on leaps and bounds and I am absolutely horrified. The speed at which it's climbing simply proves to me that my body is not built for food. If I eat, I will get fat. I don't need as much as other people and therefore, it's easier if I just don't eat than having to worry that every bite I take might cause me to balloon. It's insane how warped your brain becomes, a bmi of 15 seems colossal and unnecessary and the apprehension over soon reaching it is keeping me awake at night. I do know, however, somewhere in my rather peculiar mind, that I am doing the right thing. One cannot live a life with anorexia, as it is simply not a life.Every moment is dominated by fear, self loathing, routine and compulsion and there is very little room for anything else. So, although I'm scared, I know I must keep going.
The unit is a friendly environment at the moment,which makes all the difference. There are some lovely patients about, with ages ranging from 18 to 70. All the girls have been incredibly supportive, and one of the most vital part of my treatment thus far has been the sense of solidarity and security. One of the girls said a few days ago,when I was having a complete meltdown..."Maya, you will get through this, even if I have to drag you half the way, you can get better". Her belief in me has made such a difference. Of course, Vincent Square is still rife with bizarre behaviours relating to food, exercise, everything really. People pacing the corridors, desperate to burn a few extra calories, pocketing toast, arguing over the size of potatoes. I am not exempt, behaving in a hysterical way when it comes to food. So, that's where I am right now really. Simply trying to plod along. I have come to realise that whatever I do,it will feel like shit, so id rather try to get over this and have the prospect of a happy life than settle for a half life in a dungeon.
Here we go again
Friday, 11 October 2013
“Was I ever crazy? Maybe. Or maybe life is… Crazy isn’t being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It’s you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever.”
― Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted
So, here I am. Alone. Ashamed. Back at Vincent Square. I am a failure. I suppose everything spiralled out of control. Things just all seemed to be wrong, I was wrong, life felt wrong and it was easier to follow my white rabbit and fall down the rabbit hole. That is, it seemed easier, until I was plummeting, everything I was leaving behind whizzing past me. By that point it was too late. I was bound to hit the bottom. My heart shattered into a million pieces months ago and for some reason I thought I would be able to find it in Wonderland. The truth is, the heart cannot be whole when your World is so confusing. No one can love such a damaged being. I only wish that I could find my way out of here, back to the riverbank and the safety of love and kind words. The irony is, the only way out is through, and to get through you need strength, determination and belief, three things which I currently cannot find. I am tired now. It has been such a long time. It seems to be all I can remember. I can barely recall the happy girl I see in photos, who had the energy to dance, to laugh, to be a good friend. You cannot love one who does not love them self. I need to learn to love myself. To value every part of me. I need to see every kilo as part of my character returning. I want to get back to being that girl who had the capability to be loved and to accept love. I hate that I cannot be fully there for those around me. I hate that I am so weak, that I give in to this monster. It is just hard not to, when the World around you seems like such a big scary face. Thea said to me a few days ago, as we sat on her sofa and I sobbed as we cuddled "My Maya, we need to get you better, because I promise you, you won't be so scared then, right now, you are scared of just everything, and that is just not you". She is right. I hate that I am scared to eat. Even to drink. How absurd. Surely it should be ones basic instinct, yet a little, strong, self destructive part of me jumps on that instinct and goes "no no no, you don't need that Maya, real strength is the ability to run on air". I remember who I was, it seems like a different girl. 'Before', when I had curves, I would go and drink too much and do silly things, silly, but not life threatening. I would dance because I wanted to and because I loved to, not because I wanted to burn more calories. Life was not dominated by a looming presence, intent on destruction. I have gone from living, to simply being. This is not a life. And as I lie here, worrying about the fact that I have been motionless for so long, I think, is it really worth it? For on the path of anorexia, it is not only weight you lose. So so much more is engulfed and lost in this horrible illness. I no longer call myself a good friend, I call myself a burden. I am no longer anyones girl, I am a worry. So anorexia, please let me go. I am scared of losing you, and of gaining weight. I am scared of getting hips again, I always hated my hips. I diagnosed myself with 'violin deformity' (google it)- I am still convinced of this in fact. But I need to remember something, whether I have bloody Violin deformity or love handles as vast as all the love I have, losing weight will not make things better. It will numb it, but this is not life. Numbness means that nothing can get better. I need to get better. I need to leave this behind.
I am scared.
Any words of wisdom, notes telling me I'm a bloody idiot, pictures, anything really would be gladly received. Post always brightens the day in here. If you have the time or inclination to, I am at:
Vincent Square Eating Disorder Service
1 Nightingale Place
Kensington & Chelsea
London SW10 9NG
Of course, I do understand most people will not have time for such things, just if you do. No pressure though.
I wish that when I fell apart I made sure to keep hold of all of the pieces. As it is, they are scattered like confetti all over and I have lost a million little bits of me. If you find any, please tell me, for I will be waiting. If only I could've held on, but this fearsome monster scattered me in the wind and watched me disappear. It was like the tumbling of a pot of glitter, a huge mess sparkling from the floor, and however hard you try, however many times you hoover and sweep, there will still be hundreds of specs, glinting up at you, taunting. I love glitter.
― Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted
So, here I am. Alone. Ashamed. Back at Vincent Square. I am a failure. I suppose everything spiralled out of control. Things just all seemed to be wrong, I was wrong, life felt wrong and it was easier to follow my white rabbit and fall down the rabbit hole. That is, it seemed easier, until I was plummeting, everything I was leaving behind whizzing past me. By that point it was too late. I was bound to hit the bottom. My heart shattered into a million pieces months ago and for some reason I thought I would be able to find it in Wonderland. The truth is, the heart cannot be whole when your World is so confusing. No one can love such a damaged being. I only wish that I could find my way out of here, back to the riverbank and the safety of love and kind words. The irony is, the only way out is through, and to get through you need strength, determination and belief, three things which I currently cannot find. I am tired now. It has been such a long time. It seems to be all I can remember. I can barely recall the happy girl I see in photos, who had the energy to dance, to laugh, to be a good friend. You cannot love one who does not love them self. I need to learn to love myself. To value every part of me. I need to see every kilo as part of my character returning. I want to get back to being that girl who had the capability to be loved and to accept love. I hate that I cannot be fully there for those around me. I hate that I am so weak, that I give in to this monster. It is just hard not to, when the World around you seems like such a big scary face. Thea said to me a few days ago, as we sat on her sofa and I sobbed as we cuddled "My Maya, we need to get you better, because I promise you, you won't be so scared then, right now, you are scared of just everything, and that is just not you". She is right. I hate that I am scared to eat. Even to drink. How absurd. Surely it should be ones basic instinct, yet a little, strong, self destructive part of me jumps on that instinct and goes "no no no, you don't need that Maya, real strength is the ability to run on air". I remember who I was, it seems like a different girl. 'Before', when I had curves, I would go and drink too much and do silly things, silly, but not life threatening. I would dance because I wanted to and because I loved to, not because I wanted to burn more calories. Life was not dominated by a looming presence, intent on destruction. I have gone from living, to simply being. This is not a life. And as I lie here, worrying about the fact that I have been motionless for so long, I think, is it really worth it? For on the path of anorexia, it is not only weight you lose. So so much more is engulfed and lost in this horrible illness. I no longer call myself a good friend, I call myself a burden. I am no longer anyones girl, I am a worry. So anorexia, please let me go. I am scared of losing you, and of gaining weight. I am scared of getting hips again, I always hated my hips. I diagnosed myself with 'violin deformity' (google it)- I am still convinced of this in fact. But I need to remember something, whether I have bloody Violin deformity or love handles as vast as all the love I have, losing weight will not make things better. It will numb it, but this is not life. Numbness means that nothing can get better. I need to get better. I need to leave this behind.
I am scared.
Any words of wisdom, notes telling me I'm a bloody idiot, pictures, anything really would be gladly received. Post always brightens the day in here. If you have the time or inclination to, I am at:
Vincent Square Eating Disorder Service
1 Nightingale Place
Kensington & Chelsea
London SW10 9NG
Of course, I do understand most people will not have time for such things, just if you do. No pressure though.
I wish that when I fell apart I made sure to keep hold of all of the pieces. As it is, they are scattered like confetti all over and I have lost a million little bits of me. If you find any, please tell me, for I will be waiting. If only I could've held on, but this fearsome monster scattered me in the wind and watched me disappear. It was like the tumbling of a pot of glitter, a huge mess sparkling from the floor, and however hard you try, however many times you hoover and sweep, there will still be hundreds of specs, glinting up at you, taunting. I love glitter.
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