Finding something that you have lost is always the harder part of the equation. Particularly when you’re not quite sure what you have been looking for.
Eighteen months ago, I started with a blank – albeit baggage ridden – canvas: food and all that aside, any impressions of an identity had been well and truly buried under years of sickness and obsession and hospitals and depression.
It was like learning to walk again.
It was like dressing up in fancy dress until I worked out my style, like tasting asparagus for the first time, like the first unaccompanied trip to the shop.
It was like trying a hundred new things all at once – in the hope that I’d find the bits that fit.
And these are some of the things I did….
