As I have only a few days left, I’m just going to spit it out –

The last treatment unit that I was in is under consultation. It might be a victim, like so many crucial healthcare provisions, of the current cuts. I do not want to get too much into the politics but it also feels deeply wrong to just stand back.

Once upon a time there was a girl who had stopped believing in life. And this girl had been ill for as long as she had been well and so she had forgotten how to hope, and she had forgotten how to live.

I arrived at the Causeway in 2003. It was a year after I had finished my degree, and followed four years where I had been in and out of hospital care and, in the process, had lost contact with the real world. It was the last stop.

For over two years, I worked with the team there to turn my life around. It meant going backwards to go forwards, peeling back the layers and building them up again. It was slow and painful and uncomfortable and lonely –

And yet, it is also the foundations on which I now live.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who had forgotten how to hope. And, because this girl had forgotten this thing on which we build our lives, she needed someone to hold it for her for a little while. To reach out a hand and believe what she couldn’t see for herself –

I did not recover fully at the Causeway but I developed the foundations that have allowed me to move on. These were not about weight or food or body image – they went far deeper to self belief, and hope, and self esteem. They were built up slowly and over a long period of time, grown through a mixture of intensive support and trying life out.

- and gradually, this girl was able to take back a little bit of this hope and take on a little bit of this belief. And slowly, the skills that she was learning began to filter through her behaviour and reach the emotions on which her illness had been made.

I have been a whirlwind of activity this month. It is part of the reason this post has been so difficult to write. I have been working and playing hard. There has been music and friends and learning and connections; lazy days in the park, nights in bars, pitches and training, dancing, trips to the theatre, a weekend away –

Each and every day I am using the skills that the Causeway gave me, and I have finally reached that once impossible goal of a fulfilling life. It is easy, now that I am getting comfortable, to forget that –

Once upon a time, there was a girl who had totally lost touch with the world and for whom recovery was something in which she no longer believed. And this girl was fortunate enough to work with people who were convinced that she had a future, and gave her the help she needed to re-build her life.

I think I have broken the cycle.

This is the longest I’ve managed since my relapse started, and I have no intention of going back.

I didn’t know if I’d be able to write this post. When the switch would occur, if at all. The thought of leaving the blog that I started in hope with an unhappy ending hung heavily for a while –

And yet, I have now been through the first few sticky days, where the discomfort of change was preoccupying and the belief that I could turn promises into action, at its lowest ebb. I have felt the panic of saying goodbye, even though goodbye is indeed welcome; and resisted the dangerous seduction of “one last time”. There have been sleepless nights, and stomach cramps, and a slight friction as my body veers back towards health –

But now, the glands which were swelling are beginning to shrink and the blood in the basin, when I brush my teeth, decrease. My hands and my attention are no longer shaking; and I have felt my shoulders lighten and my head lift. I have noticed that I am back in the conversations, rather than floating around the edge. Am smiling and laughing and living far more than I have for a while –

And so, I wanted to share this here, even though it has been hard to pinpoint the turning point or uncover the exact combination of fear – and hope – and motivation – and support – that has stopped me from losing myself.

I am under no illusion that there will be ups and downs in the future; but for the moment, I am winning and, actually, it doesn’t even feel like a fight.

I have been struggling to get back to where I need to be with food. The struggle has taken the form of bulimia (and naming it still remains hard). It had been scarily easy to revert to old forms of behaviour (2 years of recovery have very little on 17 years of illness) and scarily easy for the damage to re-emerge. A bloody mouth and shaking hands are worrying but not quite enough.

For the first few months, I tried to return to the strategies that helped me recover the first time round. Planning, preparation, distraction, pick a date, share your intention, put things in place. The strategies didn’t seem to work this time; and, more worryingly, I seemed to kick back against my attempts to enforce a structure. It has taken me a while to realise what this backlash was about.

The first phase of my recovery bound me in structure and routine; and, whilst this swaddling kept me alive, it did not let me fully live.

So this is the tension and the question. How to find recovery in the real world. How to regain control of the food without relinquishing the delight I have experienced in going with the flow. In loosening the rules and routines. In moving away from breakfast at 6:45, lunch at 1:15; bed at 10:37; and next days’ clothes laid out before dinner. Don’t rock the boat with anything too emotional; pick to pieces every decision; kid glove treatment; no rather than yes – and sometimes the other way around.

My life is heading in the right direction; it is only the eating disorder that is trying to yank it back.

And so I think that this is the next phase of recovery, although it is painful and not wholly certain, yet, which way I will tip. It has been suggested that I’m nearly ready to let go and jump in the world – and that it is the snagging of the last remaining traces of eating disorder that are holding me back. I think that this is accurate, given that the immersion does not feel as deep nor as depressing as it has in the past…but as behaviours can quickly suck you downwards, I still need to watch out.

And so I am writing this post as an acknowledgement of where I am, and because I wondered whether this was a common experience for anyone else. Whether after the first part of recovery when you’ve got back to health, there is a wobble as the scaffolding comes down; and, if this is the case, what’s the best thing to do next? I am working along the lines of balance (hooks to hold onto rather than ropes to bind me down) and also refusing to go back (because if I have fought tooth and nail for the life I have built), but this is all new territory and I’d love a little extra support.

I stopped because I am not sure, yet, what I’d like to say.

That, of all psychiatric disorders, Anorexia Nervosa has the highest premature mortality rate. That the mortality rates for Bulimia and eating disorders not otherwise specified (EDNOS) are equally terrifying.

That part of the complexity of eating disorders lies in the fact that no experience is exactly the same. That there are resonances and similarities, but each person’s experience is unique.

That I am deeply worried by the closures of units that I keep hearing about, especially those that I have known. That I am also scared by the growing number of sufferers and, particularly, of younger – and older – and male sufferers.

That it is as important to focus on awareness of recovery as it is to focus on awareness of being ill.

I don’t know.

All of these – and nothing. A large part of my life has been stolen by an eating disorder and I do not want to give it anymore time –

No. This is not quite true. Part of the taking back is choosing to give it time. It’s just that the time is spent in a different way.

I have had a rough few months. I try and skim over it because it is easier that way. Because there is less room, now, between me and my blog, and it is therefore much harder to hide. Because the time has been golden, too, and it’s hard to reconcile the magic and the struggle. Because even with 18 years of experience and a good whack of intensive treatment, an eating disorder can still ambush, ensnare and baffle. Can re-emerge, when you think you’re on the straight and narrow; or slip in when the routines that you’ve built to keep it out get perturbed –

And so this is my message.

Not that an eating disorder haunts forever – but that it is a difficult battle to win.

That it needs to be talked about for these reasons. Because it is a difficult battle to win and a difficult experience to talk about; and because the complexity of eating disorders means that they are difficult to understand. Because we’re not winning yet and we need to work together. Because recovery is very possible, and it’s important to tell that story as well.

There’s lots of stuff going on this week. beat have released a much needed report on the use of images in the reporting of eating disorders; there’s a busy schedule of online and offline events; Men Get Eating Disorders Too have launched a new membership scheme; we’ve got a cool Facebook page focusing on the positives of recovery –

And I’m using the time to touch base with myself and think a little bit about how I’m going to move things forward in the coming months. How I can make sure that I win my battle, and continue enjoying the amazing things that recovery can bring.

It feels important to do this, although it has been less than a week.

I am aware that I have a tendency for flitting between things. For jumping so quickly that I cut myself off from where I have come from and end up, ultimately, feeling a bit lost.

I don’t want this to happen. I want the journey to be exciting and unpredictable – but not fractured or divorced.

And so, this is a little update. A kind of check in with myself to see how the past week has been and whether I’m as okay as I seem. That amongst the excitement of my new blog and some fun nights out, I haven’t skimmed over the other stuff or buried my head in the sand about what else might be going on –

And I don’t think I have. I think I’m coming out of the other side, and that having something new and exciting to focus on has really helped.

So, in comparison to last month, things are much improved. The gaps between binges and purges are getting longer, and most days the thought doesn’t even cross my head. It certainly lacks the intensity of a few weeks ago where I wasn’t sure how I would turn it around. My mouth is slowly healing. Not quite back to normal but feeling a little less painful every day –

And I can’t work out how the transition happened. I can’t quite describe the steps that moved me from there to here. Keeping busy helped; other people helped; talking helped; going back to three structured meals and a few snacks a day helped; work helped –

And feeling the grip loosen is giving me the courage and hope to keep moving on.

It has been on my mind for a while now. I have got myself in knots around my Twitter profile (something I’ll come back to in a minute); and been increasingly aware of the sense that this might be the right time –

Finding Melissa means the world to me. The thought of not writing on it is terrifying – but the only way to override a fear is to go through it, and discover what happens on the other side.

I have been wondering about how, exactly, I should do this. Whether the lines have to be as absolute as I presume them to be and it must be one – or the other. What the fears are really about. Whether there is a right or wrong way for doing this sort of thing…

I don’t have any answers. But I do have a kinda plan.

Finding Melissa

There are a few things that I still want to write about in relation to my eating disorder, particularly in light of the past few months. I don’t want to end on a low point, nor be closed off should any ED related topics arise.

So, for the moment, I’ll post any eating disorder specific stuff over here; but I will be writing about the next stage of my journey on a shiny new blog. I don’t want to get into dividing myself into sections because the context informs the adventure – but it is the most logical transition that I can see.

I’ll still be doing the related ED activism stuff (because it’s where I come from, and I am desperate to help); and I’ll also be leaving Finding Melissa online, in case any of the more general earlier writing is of use.

@findingmelissa

I love my Twitter community. I’m not sure of the exact overlap of readers between here and there, but I have made some great connections and some really special friends.

I am not good with change at the best of times. I’ve been tying myself in knots around this one.

I considered a simple re-naming… but would always feel that that was dishonest to those who were following me in relation to Finding Melissa -

And, so, I’ve decided to set another profile up.

The tweets will inevitably be the same (I am after all, still me), but using my name feels important now, and a way to start exploring other ways of defining me.

@findingmelissa will continue (for the moment), in relation to blog updates and ED news, but I will also be tweeting the same plus more at @issawolfe. I’d really love to connect with anyone who’s on Twitter there.

A few question marks

I don’t know whether the order or the strategy is right.

I have ummed and ahhed over whether or not to write about what I am doing. Have questioned whether I have made it all too complicated – or whether anyone will actually care. Have been trying to find the right time, in the right way –

I don’t know what that is. So I’m jumping into the unknown –

And hoping that I land.

Bottom left. Extraction. Root-canal filled Crown. Chronic recession (back and front). Gum graft. Fractured tooth. Lower interior filling.

I can’t stop thinking about my teeth. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and check that the fracture has not fractured, or that the teeth are still there.

They are inescapable, as is the damage. It has already been done, although it is now being compounded; one sugar coated acid blast at a time.

If they crumble I do not know what I will do –

And yet the fear is as strong a trigger as it is a disincentive, which is how an eating disorder maintains its hold. That, and the sense that you can not share what’s really going on in your head.

It’s partly because I haven’t been able to find the words to say what I am feeling; and partly because I’ve had to change my get-back-on-track strategy. I am trying to squeeze the eating disorder out with activity, this time; and have learnt that, without flexibility, I just keep going round and round –

It has been a case of the doing the same thing and expecting different results phenomenon.

What helped me the first time I stopped the bulimia doesn’t quite fit with where I now am. The feelings and challenges are similar – but the context is totally different; and so, as a very wise friend pointed out, the solution I had proposed no longer matches up.

It has taken a while for the penny to drop.

I have moved through frustration (“why can’t I do what I need to do?”) to fear (“I don’t know how to change things”) to acknowledgement (“I am still not moving in the right direction”) –

I can hold onto the fact that I’ve done it before – I just might need to do it differently this time round.

This is a both liberating and terrifying realisation. It has also taught me a few things about the recovery process that I did not fully appreciate before….

Adaptability is fundamental. If the first approach isn’t working, then it’s not a matter of failing – it’s about trying other things until you find a way that works.

The slip-ups are not, as I had positioned them, gaps that will become openings for the eating disorder. They are, instead, opportunities to spot the weak points and make sure they don’t trip me up again.

I have known that recovery is a dynamic process, but never seen it so clearly, nor managed to step away from the disappointment when it does not go to plan. This is the other lesson in there.

Recover a bit – more forward – slip a little – learn something new and recover a bit more – move forward –

I am growing stronger, I think, although it has felt like I have been getting lost.

It proposes 400 calories on ‘on’ days, and a modest amount on those in between.

It was my understanding that the brain needs about 500 calories a day to function.

This leaves us 100 calories short.

The article left me cold.

It left me cold because it normalises and endorses eating patterns that verge on starvation; and, in the act of doing so, infers that our appearance is more important than our selves -

Just like the guy on Twitter.

Over the past few days, an irresponsible and deeply unpleasant tweeter has been posting updates about managed anorexia and size zero. It’s created a frenzy of anger and, slightly more positively, a flurry of body positive counter-tweets – but neither have really taken the edge off how disturbing this is.

There is no such thing as managed anorexia. Eating disorders spiral and constrict and smother and, ultimately, kill.

It has been a while since I have written about eating disorders in a more general sense, or in response to news articles. I have, perhaps, been overly aware that I might not be the most objective commentator and a little less courageous about sharing my opinions than I might like. I have also been conscious that controversy attracts attention, and there is a fine line between entering a discussion with a purpose – and playing straight into someone’s game. I hope that this post does not fall into the latter – only the depth of my unease in relation to the article, and the tweet stream, has left me feeling like I don’t have a voice. The conversation is almost not worth engaging in – and yet, the message is so dangerous that the other side must be heard –

Because advocating a 400 calorie diet is utterly irresponsible, and any promotion of anorexia demonstrates an ignorance that negates the experiences of those suffering, whilst causing untold harm to those who are vulnerable enough to take on board the rubbish that is being said.

I am not sure what the solution is. I am almost more scared by the fact that a mainstream magazine shows such little accountability than that one disturbed individual is causing outrage on Twitter. At least in this forum, there are people who are standing up against him –

There is no one challenging Grazia’s message or how it is being interpreted in people’s heads.

Because I would like 2011 to be jampacked full of new adventures and experiences. To be a time where I make up for the lost ground and explore the world unseriously. To be about pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone further and further so that the possibilities, which are already awesome, keep emerging, and I am never quite sure what will be next.

And, I would like 2011 to be about looking, again, at some of the rules and assumptions that I have been living by and seeing if they really stack up. To be about asking whether I wear, or say, or do, xx because I feel or should – or because I want to? – and then seeing if I can work out a way of being that feels like me.

All of me -

The good, the bad, and every shade in between.

- because authenticity comes, with adventure, as one of my 2011 words; and is, I am beginning to learn, the key to self acceptance, and wrapped up with empathy which I want to feel in abundance because -

2011 is about people. It is about connections. It is about getting over my nerves of that first introduction and remembering that we are all human and I am okay, usually, when the conversation starts. It is about looking beyond me. About learning to trust. About remembering that we all have our own stuff. About maybe finding love, if I’m lucky, but loving regardless of whether it comes back.

And, alongside this (while I’m throwing it all out there) I also want to start the new blog I have been talking about; wear over the knee socks with boots; learn a dance and overcome my two left feet; eat some of the things that I am still afraid of…

And never forget, when it gets hard, how much I love life.

Wishing you all the very best for 2011.