Archive for April, 2010

“I am an engineer and an artist”

Friday, April 30th, 2010

“i am an engineer and an artist. #iamnotmyweight” (@thisisMEssy)

I have favourited this tweet. It couldn’t be a more timely reminder, as I am struggling to figure out how life without an eating disorder works, that the words we use to define ourselves might help to change the positioning.

Given the name of my blog and the reason I started it (“this is the story of finding an identity and giving an eating disorder up”), you’d have thought I already appreciated this; but I have focussed so hard on what I’m giving up that I have neglected what I am finding. (more…)

A Few of the Lies My Eating Disorder Liked Me To Believe

Thursday, April 29th, 2010

My eating disorder was a consummate liar. It had a few lines that always kept me stuck. I tried, (when I was feeling brave enough), to argue the point; but there was always an element of “what if I’m wrong” that made me play along.

It is hard to challenge something when you’re cowering under its threats. These ones stick out.
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Anorexia. And Bulimia. And Stalemate.

Tuesday, April 27th, 2010

My diagnosis was anorexia bulimia.

I stopped eating. Lost lots of weight. Started throwing up what I did eat. And then added in some hardcore bingeing for good measure.

I am more aware, now, of the different diagnostic criteria, and how they’re all subtyped and divided. I don’t think they were so defined, when I started out, so I mistakenly assumed I was unique…

Or I simply wasn’t prepared to listen.

And so, instead, I seemed to inhabit a lonely kind of middle land, where the one – cancelled the other one – out. I am not anorexic because I binge and purge – and I am not just bulimic, because if you take away the bingeing and purging, there’s certainly no other eating going on under there.

Neither behaviour would admit to the other – and the denial certainly wasn’t challenged by me.
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Stepping Out –

Monday, April 26th, 2010

I have stepped out of my comfort zone. I didn’t realise what a leap it was, until I reached for cover – and it had disappeared. I am still, it seems, hiding under my eating disorder; and not quite sure whether without it, I am enough.

This time it was my writing, which shows just how far the illnesses’ influence extends.
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Not The Skinny One

Sunday, April 25th, 2010

I am a sibling.

One (the eldest) of three.

This blog is not about my siblings (who are, by the way, totally wonderful and I love them to bits); but I think it might be about a younger me’s reaction to them, so I’m going to include this.

It is important to distinguish between your reality and the alternative versions of reality; the stuff that belongs to other people, and that which belongs to you.

This bit is mine.

Earlier today, someone asked me what I liked to eat as a child. Hoping to access my pre-ED tastes, I decided that casting my mind back a little (lot) and exploring the things that I used to look forward to at mealtimes sounded like a good idea.

It was. I just didn’t find what I was expecting.
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Who’d Have Thought?

Friday, April 23rd, 2010

Who’d have thought, a few years ago, that I’d be doing the things that I’m doing now.

It is important, every now and then, to stop and reflect on the progress, even if the process remains hard.

We forget, sometimes, just how far we’ve come, because we’re worrying so much about how far’s left to go.

It is limitless.

So, I’m taking a pit stop and coming up for air –

Because, who’d have thought, a few years ago, when it felt like I was “all talk”, that I’d be sitting here writing stuff down for people to read? And who’d have guessed, if they saw me frantically dashing between food shops, swollen cheeked and skeletal handed, that it was the same person calmly sitting here today.
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Dealing With Things That Don’t Help

Friday, April 23rd, 2010

Yesterday I wrote about things that don’t help.

It was one of the hardest posts that I have written. It sent me straight back to some places that I have forced myself not to dwell on; and reminded me of how hard it is to have a voice. Particularly when you’re up against a system and not feeling that great about your own state of mind.

Today, I have been attempting – and failing – to advise other people how to handle these feelings.
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Things That Don’t Help

Wednesday, April 21st, 2010

I have always been against lists saying what you should – or shouldn’t – say to someone with an eating disorder. Mine was manipulative enough, without trying to control what other people said.

I have been careful, as I’ve moved through my recovery, to ensure that I take responsibility for my behaviour (whilst appreciating that it was an illness); and that blame is left behind (because it doesn’t do anyone that much good).

Today I was reminded, in an email, of how harmful it can be when your treatment team say the wrong thing.

This confuses my line.

I can understand it when ‘normal people’ muddle along and put their foot in it; but people that are meant to be trained? I thought that the few negative experiences I’d had were unusual, or because eating disorders were newer, at the time, and professionals still had a lot to learn.

Like…

1. Weight gain can be hard to handle, even though it seems (to an outsider) to be a positive thing
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OMG I Feel That Too

Wednesday, April 21st, 2010

Recently, I started following an account on twitter called ‘OMG I do this too’. A couple of times a day, I therefore receive a tweet which reads something like: “Do you ever get a really good idea, but when you explain it to someone, it sounds terrible so you don’t end up doing it?” or “Do you feel cell phone vibrations, even when you don’t have your phone with you?”*

Most of these tweets bring a huge smile to my face. “YES!” I want to shout: “I do do that too”; and “YES! That is exactly like me”… and I’m not the only one?

In that 140 characters of connection, there is an instant click to other people and the warm reassurance that I am not on my own.
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The Hug

Sunday, April 18th, 2010

I was walking back through the park and there were a couple, hugging, on the path in front of me.

His head was bowed on her shoulder; her hands were clasping his back, so tightly that I could sense the strength; and I wanted, as I side-stepped around them, to scream.

This is what the eating disorder stole from me.

That kind of hug – and that kind of union – is what it stopped me from enjoying; and has put so far away that the distance feels too vast to bridge.
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Envy, Jealousy, the Eating Disorder, and Me

Sunday, April 18th, 2010

I have known, for a while now, that I am going to have to write about jealousy at some point. I have started, multiple times, in the past year, and then abandoned the attempts in frustration as the words splutter out with no resolution; and, amidst the debris, I can not find what I am trying to say.

Jealousy is something that I struggle with on an almost daily basis. A cruel and angry emotion that starts in the pit of my stomach; winds its way around the object – and then shoots back to me again.

Envy is closely aligned, yet more crippling. It is ingrained and slow-moving, and I often get them confused.

Her job is more interesting than my job; his flat is bigger than my flat; where they live is better than where I live; blonde hair has far more allure that brunette; if only I was as clever – or as beautiful – or as popular – or as slim, as her.

One complaint leads to the next and the poison oozes, insidiously, until everything’s tainted.

For as long as I can remember, I have been like this.
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Things I Like About Being Me

Thursday, April 15th, 2010

Yesterday, I stumbled across a link on twitter to an article listing “30 Things I Love About Myself”, and was immediately struck by the concept.

Listing things we love about ourselves is not something we are often encouraged to do, particularly in the UK. Modesty is seen as an attribute; and pride tends to come before a fall – or so I have always believed.

Accepting that an outfit looks nice takes places after some painful to-ing and fro-ing (“do you really think so?” – “yes really” – “but doesn’t it look out of place?” – “no, not at all”); and is, more often than not, accompanied by a mental twist (“she didn’t mean that”). Whilst blowing your own trumpet typically comes with an apology (“I don’t mean to brag but…”) or a quick justification (“well, that’s what so-and-so thought”) – so that it’s acceptably said.

Liking yourself might be mistaken for arrogance – or is halted, subconsciously, before the charge can be laid; and why wait for other people to point out your weaknesses if you can get there first…

You can not, I am beginning to learn, expect others to like you if you don’t even like yourself.
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Not Cool Enough

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010

There are a few people who make me feel like I’m not quite cool enough; and I have been trying, desperately, to work out whether the problem is them – or me.

At 30, I should be beyond these schoolgirl considerations. They smack of whispering at the back of classrooms and popularity ratings and things that you would have hoped I’d grown out of…only the hurt is still as sharp and the insecurity, as gnawing.

It is frustrating that, whilst they’re getting on with life, I am still struggling to wrestle back a little self respect and reassure myself that their opinion is not the only thing that counts.
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Beyond the M25

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010

I am going to Vienna for two days on Friday.

The excitement is bristled through with anxiety, or maybe it’s the other way around.

I am still getting used to the fact that I can leave the 30 mile radius that my eating disorder deemed comfortable, let alone the country. There were too many variables in travelling to make it feasible. The anxiety of the unknown and the uncontrollable, compacted by the need to be within arms-length of my doctor / dentist / therapist, meant that I spent ten years or so within the confines of the M25* – and I’m still getting used to being free.

There is a whole wide world out there to explore.
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The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

Monday, April 12th, 2010

I have just finished reading Murakami’s ‘The Wind Up Bird Chronicle’.

It has taken me over three months to reach the final page, smashing any contenders for the ‘longest read ever’ title.

In most cases, I would have given up weeks ago; however, bought on the back of a respected recommendation, and prompted by a timely post asking at what point a book should be abandoned, I realised that this wasn’t the kind of novel I could shrug my shoulders and walk away from – and refocused my efforts in a dash for the end.

I am not sure what to make of it.

I have an English literature degree. One of the few things that I should feel on safe grounds with is analysing texts –

But with this novel, I’m surprisingly stumped; and resisting all urges to google its meaning and squish it into a nice, neat storyline and generic box.
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Possession

Sunday, April 11th, 2010

I thought that I had reached my limit and exposed all the deep, dark secrets of my eating disorder. That I had probed every sensitive area, and subjected each to my ridiculously exaggerated analytical-lens.

Nope. I still manage to shock myself.

They keep coming, thick and fast, like unpleasant discoveries or bruises that are so deep they are only felt when you push the exact spot.

This post’s on possession. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of; but it might lessen – this possessiveness – if it is acknowledged and moved on.
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In Search of Intuitive Eating

Friday, April 9th, 2010

The concept of intuitive eating has only just started crossing my radar.

It sounds like an interesting idea – but at the moment, it also appears to be from another planet.

For me, intuitive and eating do not even appear in the same sentence, let alone alongside each other. With normality a lifetime ago, I still think in hospital speak ‘1 protein, 1 carbohydrate and 2 veg’; weigh out one of three ‘nutritionally enhanced’ breakfast cereals at 7am, come hunger or not; and couldn’t tell you if I like or loathe peas. I do not fancy cake, nor experience satisfaction; and I rotate my food groups to make sure that I’ve got a tick in each box –

In touch with my eating, I most definitely am not. So, I’m making a little introduction:
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Outcast

Wednesday, April 7th, 2010

I am ashamed of my isolation.

It is like a stamp of failure.

I can understand, when I’m in a logical frame of mind, that the circumstances have not been conducive to a bustling buzzing social life, and that maybe I need to give myself a break –

But it’s hard not to take it personally –

And it hurts that the problem might well be me.
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On Rejection

Wednesday, April 7th, 2010

There was something going around twitter last week about rejection.

I can’t get it out of my mind.

It has struck a sensitive chord that I am almost too scared to write about; and, because the chord is exposed, a wall’s gone up and now I can’t see what’s going on behind.

According to this article, rejection is like a physical pain. Whether you care about who’s rejecting you or they’re hidden behind a computer screen, the hurt is the same –

A twisting in the gut and a bowing of the shoulders and a sinking of the head and the unbearable feeling of shame. Or that’s the imprint that remains for me.

A few weeks ago, I had my own little example.
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The Killer Dress

Monday, April 5th, 2010

For my 30th Birthday, I brought a killer dress.

I know that taste is subjective; but there’s no other way to describe it. This dress totally rocks.

It might not be bang on trend as I couldn’t tell you what’s strutting along the catwalk and have never quite got into Vogue; but, it makes me feel a million dollars, and has reminded me of something that gets lost behind the catwalk debate and the size zero phenomenon

In my recovery, fashion and fabrics were an unexpected friend; even when I wasn’t that comfortable in my own skin.
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Sabotaging My Self

Saturday, April 3rd, 2010

You know the alarm that kicks in when you’re about to do something stupid? The little sensor that is tripped when you step into a danger zone and are about to do something you’ll probably regret.

Mine is defunct.

The self destruct button is jammed down, by default, and I seem to have been programmed in reverse. Instead of stopping before I step over the line, I ramp up the speed on the descent and it takes someone else to step in and say

Stop.
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Institutionalised

Thursday, April 1st, 2010

I am just beginning to realise how institutionalised I had become. I am finding the ‘normal’ world a scary place. It speaks a language that I don’t really understand. I am comfortable in terms of CPAs and meal plans; supervision, bloods and BMIs. I know where I am with meds, and ward rounds, and care co-ordinators, and agency staff at the weekend –

It’s the stuff that everyone else talks about that I find harder to get the hang of.
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