Mistletoe and whine

Christmas is supposed to be merry and bright, but it can also be hard........really hard when you have an eating disorder, and also when your family is split. But this year has been exceptionally lovely - relaxed and chilled and spent with the entire family - just not at the same time! Despite facing hospital treatment soon into the New Year, I have eaten and managed better for the past week or so than since I can remember. No bingeing, no vomiting, and I have allowed myself to eat some treats, to drink and to be merry without feeling too guilty. The guilt will come next week when I get on the scales and face the damage, but I'm trying to ignore that for now.

I think the key this year has been spending time with my amazing family, not being alone and making sure not to isolate myself. As much as I want to hide away from the world at the moment, I can see that it just makes me more unhappy in the long run. My family are also all an incredibly good lesson in how to be 'normal', how to enjoy life and of how I could be in the future.

One of my biggest fears is that, one day, enough will be enough for them, and they will give up on me. Quite honestly, I am surprised that day hasn't already come. There is, however, a downside to having a supportive family, as strange as that may sound! It means that no matter how tired I am of fighting, I have to bloody carry on......and the eating-disordered side of myself really hates that ;) Slowly I have realised that my illness doesn't just affect me, but everyone around me. Even if I do want to self -destruct, in doing that I would be hurting a great many people, and I refuse to do that any more. Some people say their family will be the death of them. Right now, as corny as it sounds, mine are my salvation.

I've learned that all a person has in life is family and friends. If you lose those, you have nothing, so friends are to be treasured more than anything else in the world.

~ South Park



So much to gain....

Doctors always seem reluctant to discuss a target weight with me, presumably because they think I will freak out at the thought of being healthy, at how much weight I will have to gain. If numbers are mentioned, they say I can consider just getting to a 'safer' body mass index of around 15 for now (anything below 17.5 is classed as anorexic and 'healthy' is around 20-25). That has never actually been acceptable to me - if I am to recover and gain weight, I need to do it properly, and remaining at a low BMI feels like a bit of a cop-out to be honest. It is allowing myself to remain anorexic and unhealthy, albeit healthier than right now.

Yet just to get my body back into the range where my BMI is no longer 'anorexic', I need to gain a good two stone. And to be back at a 'healthy' BMI of 20, it turns out I'll have to pack on three stone. Those numbers truly stagger me and I can't quite make sense of them. How can I actually be so underweight but feel so fat? If I can't look at myself in the mirror now, if the sight of my body at my current weight makes me want to cry, how can I possible tolerate it any bigger?

Strangely enough, the abstract idea of having to gain all that weight in the future doesn't scare me as much as you might expect. But if I were asked to gain a couple of pounds in the next week, my reaction would be one of horror and I would downright refuse. Stepping on the scales and seeing a gain feels to me like a failure, and I want to howl with rage and despair and actually hurt myself for being so fat and disgusting. I claim I want to get better, but I suppose I am still hoping there is a way of doing that without gaining weight!

Right now even drinking a glass of water makes me feel full, which equates to dirty, fat and revolting. I have to shower first thing in the morning before I put anything inside my body and I have perfected the art of doing that and getting dressed without seeing myself naked. My Grandmother thinks I wear baggy clothes to hide how much weight I have lost - really it is because I can't stand to look at myself, and any clothes which fit closely convince me I have gained weight and am fat. If I don't have to see myself properly, I can pretend the fat is not there. Last time I was this weight I had stopped drinking alcohol because of its calorific content, so people around me see the fact that I will now do that as a positive sign and an improvement. The truth is, I only drink because it numbs the voices in my head, because it dulls the pain of how wretched and wrong I feel in this skin.

So I am torn, because I certainly don't want to remain miserable and ill, but if I don't even want to maintain my current weight, let alone gain any, do I really stand any chance of getting better?

'I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control.

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.' 

~  Radiohead, Creep

Wasted

I have no words at the moment, so I am going to borrow some from Marya Hornbacher in Wasted, because this sums up how I feel right now.......

'When, after fifteen years of bingeing, barfing, starving, needles and tubes and terror and rage, and medical crises and personal failure and loss after loss - when, after all this, you are in your early twenties and staring down a vastly abbreviated life expectancy and the eating disorder still takes up half your body, half your brain, with its invisible eroding force, when you have spent the majority of your life sick, when you do not yet know what it means to be "well" or "normal", when you doubt that those words even have meaning anymore, there are still no answers. You will die young, and you have no way to make sense of that fact.

You have this: You are thin.

Whoop-de-f**king-dee.'

Giving thanks

Blah, blah, whinge, whine, moan, gripe, rant.....anorexia and bulimia have f**ked my life up and the truth is that right now I'm feeling physically and mentally worse than ever before - literally on the edge. BUT, things are not always bad, and I do have a lot to be thankful for.

So, in honour of Thanksgiving in America, a short list of what I am thankful for:

• My family. Words will never be enough to describe just how fortunate I am to be surrounded by amazing people who seem to forgive and accept my faults, love me for myself and stand by me through thick and thin.  

• My wonderful friends, who not only forgive, but also try to understand the reasons behind my bizarre behaviour. One of my best friends recently told me she wants to see 'the old me' back. At the moment, I can't really remember who I was before I got ill, and I am thankful that my friends have stuck around to remind me. 

• The times I have had, especially in the past 18 months or so, which have shown me brief glimpses of a normal life. Going to South Africa last year, family holidays this year, and just spending time with people I love, laughing and being happy - I cling to the memories because I know I can do it again and recover. I want those times back and more.

• That I am still physically healthy. I have been making myself vomit, sometimes several times a day, since I was 14, and I still have strong teeth. There are days when I can't believe I have never had any serious problems, considering what I can put my body through, and all I can say is that I have been very lucky. And I am so thankful for that. Although I never admit it, I am absolutely terrified that my body could give up on me at any time.

• To live in a country where I can access the healthcare I need, when I need it. Actually, to live in an area of the country is more accurate! NHS services for mental health are notoriously patchy and underfunded, yet I have been one of the fortunate few to access great NHS help this year. The unfortunate thing in the equation is that I am too stubborn and scared to accept it.....

• To have a home and a warm place to sleep at night. At any time of year it breaks my heart to see people begging and living on the streets, but it becomes even harder at Christmas, when the emphasis is on families and being happy.

• Pepsi Max, Splenda and sugar free jelly - so sweet and barely any calories!

• My dog. Some would call her an overgrown rat, but I respectfully disagree. And, as Christmas is coming, there will be chance to dress her up like this again:

• Sky Plus TV - I have no idea how I lived without it! Ditto my Blackberry!

• "24" DVD boxsets, as I'm currently binge-watching series 5, loving Jack Bauer and reconsidering my plans to become a primary school teacher in favour of working for CTU.

• Music. I can't imagine a world without it.

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.

~ William Arthur Ward

What a difference a year makes

Exactly a year ago I was in South Africa, volunteering with children, learning a lot about myself, having fun and generally doing something amazing. I was proud of myself. And more importantly, I felt like my family could finally start to be proud of me too. One year on and I can't even look at myself in the mirror. Not just because I feel fat, because I hate my body, but because I hate myself for what I have become. I owe my parents, the rest of my family, my friends, even myself, so much more than this.

At 27, I am a burden to my parents, a constant source of worry, concern and frustration. When their friends ask after me, I can only imagine how utterly embarassed they must be to admit the truth. 'Stepmom', one of my favourite films, was on TV last night so I sat down to watch it. It always breaks my heart at the end where Susan Sarandon's character has to say goodbye to her children, but yesterday more than usual. My Mum and I do not always have a perfect relationship, but I love her to pieces, would never swap her and can't imagine life without her. However, as a child, you do have to accept that there will come a time when you will have to face the loss of your parents. As unthinkable as it is to me, it is the natural order of things....not the other way around.

But I know that my Mother, and the rest of my family, have had to think about the fact that I might not recover, even that I may die. Knowing that I am putting people through that makes me feel so ashamed, and I often wish that I had a different illness. I feel like this should be something I can stop, that I can manage myself. Everyone must hate me for not doing more than I am doing, for seeming not to fight hard enough. It's not that I want cancer or heart disease, but if  it was anything other than a mental illness, it wouldn't be my fault. And deep down, I feel like the eating disorder is my fault.

I read somewhere that to get better, I need to get angry with the eating disorder, for everything it has made me lose, for every opportunity I have missed, and to use that anger to fight to do the right thing. I think I am getting to that point, slowly but surely, but I am terrified that by the time I get there it will be too late and everyone will have given up on me already. A year ago I had dreams, passion, ambition and hope. Now I feel very much alone, very scared and overwhelmed. Although it is my worst enemy, there are times when anorexia seems like my only friend.......

"One minute I held the key,

Next the walls were closed on me.

And I discovered that my castles stand

Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand."

~ Coldplay, Viva La Vida

Courage



'I don't know the first time I felt unbeautiful, the day I chose not to eat.

What I do know is how it changed my life forever.

I know I should know better.' ~ Courage, Superchic(k)

The first time I watched this video on You Tube was back in 2006 and nothing I have seen or read before or since has scared me more. Somebody once asked me how I can treat my body so badly, when I know the risks to my health. I compared it to people who drink, smoke or take drugs; while you know the risks, you still do it, never really believing that anything bad will happen to you. I think most addicts convince themselves that they are invincible - smokers believe that lung cancer happens to other people, in the same way that anorexics believe that they personally will never suffer from heart failure or organ damage. Despite many years of starving, bingeing, vomiting, laxative abuse and over-exercising, my body has remained healthy and I did once tell a therapist that I was super-human.

However, I know this is not true, that my body could give in at any time, and that I could potentially die from my eating disorder. I actually try not to think about it because it scares the hell out of me, which is something I rarely admit. What scares me more though, is not the thought of dying from the effects of the illness, but the idea of not recovering and living with it for many years. As the video says, 'even if you don't die physically, your soul will die'. Neither of these options are acceptable to me, neither are what I want for my life, which leaves me with just one choice.....to recover. I just wish I knew how to do it.

Climbing mountains

Those who know me well will know that this is not my first foray into the world of 'blogging'. Exactly a year ago I spent several weeks near Cape Town in South Africa, volunteering in a pre-school in the Red Hill Township and I kept a blog to update everybody at home. Although I wrote about my eating disorder, it was not the focus of my blog and at the time I was at a positive stage of recovery. While I could have continued that blog now, it just felt wrong and I don't want to taint what was a happy and positive experience with my self-indulgent ramblings about life with anorexia. Quite honestly I am still unsure about the direction and point of this new blog. Ideally it will be a story of a young woman's recovery from the depths of anorexia and bulimia and her transformation into a healthy and happy human being, living her life like a normal person should, instead of merely existing. However, that sounds like a cliché - the age-old fairytale of an ugly duckling becoming a swan - and in my darkest moments I fear that the reality will be far-removed from the dream. All I can promise is to be honest, not just with anyone who reads this, but - most importantly - with myself.

'I can almost see it,

That dream I'm dreaming.

But there's a voice inside my head saying

"You'll never reach it".

Every step I'm taking,

Every move I make,

Feels lost with no direction,

My faith is shaking.

But I gotta keep trying,

Gotta keep my head held high.

There's always gonna be another mountain,

I'm always gonna wanna make it move.

Always gonna be an uphill battle,

Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.

Ain't about how fast I get there,

Ain't about what's waiting on the other side.

It's the climb.......'

~ Miley Cyrus, The Climb

Once upon a time......

Once upon a time, about 28 years ago to be precise, Margaret Thatcher led the country, Michael Jackson's Thriller topped the music charts, Channel 4 was launched, Princess Diana was 'the people's princess', ET was released in the cinemas and a married couple found out they were expecting a baby girl. She was born in the summer of 1983 into a loving family, wanted for nothing and everyone had such high hopes for her. She had potential, the chance to be and do anything she wanted. She could follow in her Dad's footsteps and become a doctor, or be a nurse or magistrate like her Mum. She could be a lawyer, teacher, even the Prime Minister.....although her family would have found it hard to deal with her being affiliated with any party other than Labour!

Instead, by the age of 27, the little girl with so much to offer and achieve had become consumed by illness. Having struggled with bulimia and binge eating during her teens and early twenties, she had descended into the deep, dark depths of anorexia and could not see a way out. Despite hospital stays and the help of various doctors and therapists, she could not fully engage in treatment and had put her body and mind through hell, refusing to let her body weight rise above an anorexic BMI for over two years. She knew she was going to die, if not physically, then mentally, because eating disorders destroy not only the sufferer's body, but also their soul, spirit and mind.

Here is where the story could go one of two ways. The little girl could either continue down the lonely path of self-destruction, starving herself and bingeing and purging into oblivion, pushing away the people who love her and want to help, until her body and loved ones finally give up on her. Or she could do the seemingly impossible and face her demons, gain weight, learn how to eat normally, regain her life, make herself and her family and friends proud and fulfill the potential of that much-loved little girl.

Unfortunately the reader does not get to decide the outcome of the story. Unlike the current BT adverts with Kris Marshall, this isn't a case of 'what happens next.....you decide'. I almost wish it were, as I was once the happy little girl with so much ahead of me and I know what people would choose for me. However, I am the only person who can decide how this end, and the sad truth is that right now, I really don't know what the final chapter will bring.