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I’ve had this blank page staring back at me the past few days. Want to write, know that I do, but about what? I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

My head is spinning with a thousand questions, so much so I won’t allow myself to even take a step back and appreciate how well the past three weeks have gone. I’ve not weighed myself at all and I don’t feel as much of a need to. Part of me thinks that shows massive progression but the other part tells me its because I’m scared to see the number, that I’m bound to have gained weight.

Every time I think I’ve made steps forward that voice simply tells me I haven’t. It downplays my success. I’ve not purged for more than 3 weeks…but that’s probably because I’ve been with other people, not because I’ve gotten stronger…

He wants to be with me. Says that he does. Says that he really likes me. But I don’t know. What if I’m setting myself up for yet another failure. Am I weak for going back? Or am I making the right choice by trying to work through whatever happened? But what did happen? I don’t know. I still don’t get it, I still can’t process it because he hasn’t given me a reason as to why he did what he did.

And my head keeps spinning.

When I’m with him, its perfect. As though nothing happened. But when I’m alone I just think of all that pain he brought to that Sunday a few weeks ago.

He said after a really long (and I mean really long) relationship he’s scared of picking the wrong person. He described it as akin to a mental health issue, that he panicked and almost couldn’t control the things he was saying. I can half understand that, even though none of my friends do.

But surely that means I’m the wrong person? I mean, of course I am. No matter how many steps I move forward nor how many achievements I make, I have so many failures and broken pieces of me that can never be forgotten.

Failures and broken pieces that are rooted in a bastard of an eating disorder.

Of course I would never be right.

Of course, each time someone ‘genuine’ comes along, they soon enough realise I’m not right.

Why would I be?

Does this mean he’s just going to end it another day in the future? Right now, he is right for me. I don’t believe its healthy to look too far into the future regarding relationships too soon but am I just here, making him better for the next one to come along? Just like always.

Always setting them up to treat the next one better.

For once I thought I was finally getting treated better.

I just don’t know anymore.

But he does treat me right. One stupid afternoon, one epic mind fuck but everything else feels incredibly normal and perfect. I can’t spend a relationship second guessing everything…just like I can’t spend my recovery second guessing every step forward that I make.

No more second guessing, back to going with the flow, I suppose.


Twitter: @elenip92

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Tis The Season

 

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It feels like I have this lump stuck in my throat. I’ve just gotten back from lunch with a friend and admittedly that’s all I’ve eaten today. I’m trying hard to keep the panic at bay but I’m really struggling. The fact my meal was healthy doesn’t matter, my brain doesn’t see it that way. My body feels full and so my brain goes into overtime. Ignoring the calories and focusing on that ‘full’ feeling I’ve become accustomed to hating.

God, it’s been tough today but I’ve not relapsed. I’m trying so hard but feel like I’m walking on the edge of a crumbling cliff the past few days about to fall any minute. I can never fully explain how frightening this time of year is. Especially because I simply adore Christmas. I love the lights, and the decorations and the general happiness that seems to surround everyone. It’s such a happy period but as we all know, going home for Christmas has never been fun for our family. Not for me.

It’s not the family drama though, that simply adds stress to an already stressful time. It’s more so that this is the season full of food, which means I’m going to be full of food. All the time. I’ve already got 5 Christmas dinners and parties planned over the next two weeks and then the week after I’ll be home and god knows how many dinners and parties are going to happen then.

I can’t stand feeling full. There was a time I was scared of drinking water simply because I felt full. I like to keep things small. I still confuse feeling empty with positive thoughts. I still critically assume feeling full means I’ve been greedy. After all this time, my brain still confuses fear and logic. Still tries to convince me I’m things that I’m not.

I’m trying not to overthink, not to panic but it’s so damn difficult. I just know the type of food that’s going to be on offer and if I don’t eat people will comment and try to make me eat because they think that helps. And so I’ll eat so they think I’m fine when in fact I’m not and then that fear of feeling full will emerge….there I am…overthinking, panicking.

Come on girl, deep breaths. You’re getting better, you know you’re getting better. 

Mind you, for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like I’m getting stronger on the edge of that cliff. It doesn’t feel like its crumbling the way it used to. I’m holding on stronger than I ever have before, tougher than I ever thought I could be.

For what feels like the first time in forever, I feel like someone’s arms are there.

I do hope that one year, I can enjoy this season for all its worth. To the full extent that I know I want to love it to. Loving it without the fear.

It truly is a magical season after all.

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Making Peace With The Mirror

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It’s oh so cliched but I need to start measuring myself in strength and not pounds. But why does something so simple feel so incredibly hard?

People see my smile on a daily basis. They hear my laugh at least once an hour and that’s what I’m best known for. The girl who’s always smiling. That’s why they all notice when the smile isn’t there.

I’m doing well and visiting my cousins this weekend was so amazing. I had incredible fun but there was so much food.

So.
Much.
Food.

And drink. There was a lot to eat and more to drink and as hard as I tried I couldn’t get that Demon’s voice out of my head. I was filled with panic whenever food was brought to me. I spent hours fearing just when they’d expect me to eat or drink next.

Simply in fear of the calories.

Just say no. I hear you say.

Just say no. I kept hearing myself say.

But how do you say no to breakfast, lunch and dinner?

How do you say no to a glass of wine at a party your family is hosting?

Should you say no to three normal meals?

You might not, but I always tell myself that I have to say no. That I’ve still got fat to lose.

My perspective has always been a touch twisted. According to others, I always see myself bigger than what I am. I never seem to care about any part of my body other than my stomach. Always looking at it. Hoping it doesn’t look big. Hoping, desperate to not see a fat girl staring back at me.

Sadly, most days I still do.

I never feel good enough because I was never allowed to feel good enough.

It truly was an amazing weekend and I needed it. I loved seeing my older cousin and messing around with my younger ones in the middle of the most gorgeous countryside. A world away from the tall glass buildings I’ve gotten accustomed to in London.

There’s more to life than avoiding my reflection.

There’s more to life than letting the scales define my day.

There’s more to me than I believe.

There’s more to me.

Perhaps I still need a little bit of help truly realising that.

It sounds silly, but if I get drunk I get a little bit cocky. What I mean is, I know I’m perfect the way I am, I know I’m really quite something, that I’ve achieved things many people dream of, that my friends love me for me, that my smile can infect the whole room, that I am just fine. Drunken words are a sober man’s thoughts after all.

But when it comes to a normal day I do get riddled with self-doubt. I think that being thinner means being perfect but surely not. Surely there’s more? I get the whole, you’ve got to love yourself first and I do but I can’t help but occasionally think of the friends and boys who have used me. Taken advantage. Assaulted me. It all makes me feel that I might not be worth it.

But I know I am. We all are. Sometimes it takes a heartbreak to shake us awake and help us see we are worth so much more than we are settling for. We’re all worth so much more than we think we are.

It’s just that mirror, those scales and the Demon in my head.

At the end of the day, there is no scale that can measure just how incredibly precious we are. Long gone are the days where every single day was dependent on mirrors and scales. Just got to push through and keep going. Head up and push through these last couple of tough days.

I’ve made it through a mentally challenging weekend and I can’t ask for more than that. There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever. There are only small steps upwards: an easier day, an unexpected laugh…a mirror that doesn’t matter anymore.

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Heartache, Heartbreak

I just feel so lonely, struggling to pick myself up. These past two months have been hell and I’ve never had to cope with so many different yet equally hard situations.

And its as if there isn’t anyone there. I feel like I’m struggling to get through this and I don’t know how to make it better. I’ve resorted to unreal measures to purge and I feel so ashamed of myself. There’s so much hurt, so many doubts, so much self-hatred that the only way out is to purge.

I hate myself, I hate everything about every decision I made, I feel so dirty and horrible and hate every piece of me that went wrong the past 8 weeks. I hate everything. I hate this feeling, I hate the purging, but I hate not purging as well. I feel like its the only thing that can calm me down at the end of the day, when the stress has accumulated over the passing hours.

I’m so stressed out and I just hate everything about myself right now. I hate the decisions I made and how they hurt someone, someone so special. But the decisions have hurt me too. No one seems to realise just how much I’m hurting, how hard the struggle is, how every day has become so dark and filled with hate. I’m hurting so much and I can’t keep this brave face on much longer.

They said it was the right thing. They told me it was the correct choice. But now that its done, now that there’s no way back, why do I feel so broken?

Tuesday Night

He caught me. I heard his footsteps but I didn’t have enough time. Not enough time to clean up or sort myself out. Just not enough time.

I panicked and I freaked out. It happened so fast yet felt so slow. I heard him coming in and I rushed, I tried to sort everything out. Don’t see me like this. Please don’t see me like this. Not now. Not ever. I tried to hide it but it was pointless. I tried to cover myself up but nothing was within my reach. The fear had filled me up completely, I’ve never felt so scared than in those few brief moments.

I thought I was being careful. I thought he couldn’t hear me. I thought I had gotten good at being silent…that sounds so bad now I’ve typed it out.

I’ve never felt more scared than I did on Tuesday night. I was convinced that was it. He would leave. Why wouldn’t he? I’ve never felt so disgusting or embarrassed and the pain burned through me like a thousand knives stabbing their way to my heart. I’ve not panicked like that before either. I just couldn’t bear to think he was about to see me purging, that he was about to walk in.

Thought he wouldn’t notice. Bath running, doors shut, music blasting. Thought it would cover any sound I made. I was wrong about that. But I was wrong about other stuff too.

He caught me on Tuesday night. But he didn’t leave. He wasn’t cruel to me like others have been in the past. He picked me up and held me. Held me so tight I could barely breathe but I didn’t care. He didn’t make me apologise or make me feel the way that Demon does. He just held me whilst I cried. Whilst all the tears came running and he didn’t let me go. I’ve never needed him as much as I did that night.

I’m almost glad he caught me. I don’t feel like I’ve lost his trust but as if I’ve lost my trust in myself. He didn’t even ask me to but I’ve made sure I’m with him after meals and all the doors are open when I’m in the bathroom. Its weird because its not that he doesn’t trust me, but rather, I don’t trust me.

One relapse. And a bad one at that, but I’ve stuck to my food plan this week relatively well otherwise. Half way there. One step back but a few steps forward.

Raw

They wanted to weigh me and I hadn’t anticipated that. They sat me down and oh so casually said they needed my weight

I haven’t seen my weight for more than two months and the instant panic made it impossible to speak, I could have told them I didn’t want to see it, or that maybe I didn’t have to, but I couldn’t. So I got up and I stood on the scales.

64.5kg

That’s what the skinny girl weighing me called out.

And the voices came running. The pain struck me and all I wanted to do was cry. I’m sat in the waiting room waiting for the consultant and the tears are burning, trying to burst and run down my face.

I haven’t seen my weight for more than two months and all those doubts were right. I’m fat. I’ve gained weight and I’m so fat. I need to lose it. I knew I needed to lose it but I ignored the voices and let myself eat. I allowed myself to eat similar amounts to everyone else and whilst I haven’t trained I have paid for it. Oh have I paid for all that over indulgence and wrong choices.

Why did I eat what I ate?

Why did I drink what I drank?

Why did I not train as much?

It’s my fault. I’ve gained so much weight and its all my fault. I feel numb and broken inside and it hurts. When that number was called out I felt as if a thousand knives stabbed me at once.

I just felt raw.

I felt the self-hatred come back. It seethed through my body and it burned my insides. My head started spinning and I had a lump in my throat. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I almost didn’t want to breathe as if I could pretend I wasn’t there. As if I could pretend it wasn’t true, but it was. Almost 65kg and yeah I had my clothes on, but that doesn’t really add much on, does it?

No point hiding from the fact that I’m fat. No point trying to comfort myself and soften the blow that I’m so fat right now. Its blatantly obvious. No point denying it.

One year since things went downhill with swimming and I’ve gained 9kg.

I feel like a disgrace and I need to get my anger out. I just want to scream and shout and just cry…I just really want to curl up and cry away all the pain.

As if crying would make it better anyway.

I can’t even describe how I’m feeling with my words in any sense that is actually an adequate representation. All I know is that I am fat and it hurts. I used to be 55kg and I want to be that weight again. I don’t care if I was purging at that weight, I just want to get there without purging.

I want to be that tiny girl again.

I need to be slim. I need to be better than what I am and I want it now. I don’t like feeling this hurt, I don’t like the pain that burns in my head and my body and I’m sick. I’m sick of being this mess. I’m sick of my life revolving around my weight and the sooner I sort it out the better.

I feel so raw.

I need to sort it out.

I feel so numb.

I just need to lose weight.

I feel so broken.

I just need to be slim again, that small again

I’m so scared that I can’t do it. I’m so frightened that I am always going to be this fat.

I want to do it healthily but I’m scared that that option won’t work.

I just feel empty inside. I feel so hurt and depressed when I look at myself. I want to be more than this. I want to be slimmer.

I feel so broken and numb, but it doesn’t feel like there’s anything I can do about it.

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Countdown

You’ve not eaten all day.

You need to eat.

And then it begins.

It starts with a question of ‘why?’

Why did I eat?

Why could I not have been stronger?

And then the fear kicks in.

The fear of being fat.

The fear of being ugly.

The fear of becoming that unwanted fat and ugly girl again.


And then the thoughts start whispering.

I’m weak.

I’m so fat

I’m such a failure.

I’m always going to be fat.

I’m never going to achieve anything if I don’t lose weight.

I’m such a disgrace.

And then the thoughts get louder.

I shouldn’t have eaten.

It’s all my fault.

I feel so full.

I’m going to be fat.

No.

I am fat.

I’m never going to be slim.

And then the thoughts start shouting.

So fat.

So ugly.

Failure.

Worthless.

Unwanted.

Disgrace.

Fat, worthless and unwanted.

And then another whisper begins to grow.

Just get rid.

One more time.

Get rid.

Lose some calories.

Less calories.

Less fat.

Be slimmer.

Get rid.

Starve tomorrow.

Just once.

Do it.

Feel lighter.

Get rid.

Feel less full.

Get rid.

This once.

Stop tomorrow.

You’ll become slimmer.

Just until you reach 58KG.

Then you can stop.

But for now.

Get rid.

Get rid.

Get rid.

Get rid.

Get rid.

Gain some control over your weight and get rid of it.

And then the countdown starts


Five Minutes

Get rid in five minutes. It’ll be easier in five minutes.

Four Minutes

You’ll be lighter when it’s over.

Three Minutes

Just until you get what you want. Just until you’re slimmer and more beautiful

Two Minutes

Don’t do it.

One Minute

I need to do it. I can’t do it any other way. I’m such a disgrace, no wonder no one likes me.

50 Seconds

I shouldn’t do this. But I’m so fat. I hate being so fat. Why can’t I be slim and beautiful? Just once.


40 Seconds

It won’t be once. You’ll do it again. And then you’ll have to tell everyone what a disgrace you are, and they’ll hate you for it. You’re such a let down. That Girl relapses…again.

30 Seconds

It’ll be over soon.

20 Seconds

Get ready.


15 Seconds

Sooner you do this the sooner it stops.

10

I need to get rid.

9

I’m so fat.

8

Everything depends on me being lighter.

7

I hate myself for doing this.

6

I’m so disgusting.

5

Fat and disgusting.

4

I need to do this.

3

I need to be lighter

2

I need to be slimmer.

1

I hate being fat.

0

I hate being me.

And then it starts. Take a deep breath and hope for the best. Hope its quick. Hope it doesn’t hurt too much. Hope you’ll get rid of everything. Hope you’ll be in control again. Hope no one finds out. Hope to be slimmer. Lighter. Thinner. More beautiful.

And if it doesn’t go to plan. Take a moment and the countdown starts again. The thoughts louder, the pain deeper. The fear greater.

Hatred seething.

And if it works…relief…inexplainable relief. A slight moment of calm. That’s better. I don’t feel so full now. I won’t be as fat tomorrow. I might be 58KG again. Maybe, just maybe. Back on track now. I can do this properly now.

10

Oh god.

9

I can’t do this any other way.

8

Why did I do that?

7

I’m such a disgrace.

8

I’m a mess.

5

I’m broken.

4

Disgusting

3

Weak.

2

Fat.

1

If you don’t eat you won’t do this.

0

Don’t eat.

The cycle.

The cycle that doesn’t have a determinable beginning.

The cycle that never ends.

The cycle that tries to balance out but never does.

The cycle I can’t break out of.