Concrete Walls 

It’s been eleven days since you broke up with me for approximately 30 minutes. Eleven days since you spent an entire day changing your mind and messing with mine in the process. Eleven days since you planted the worlds biggest mind fuck into my head and not a single day out of those eleven has passed where I haven’t thought of what you did to me.

I’ve had a great eleven days here in Peru but they’ve been riddled with doubts and fears and tears.

My mind tells me it’s because I’m ‘too much’. With all my different illnesses, and one illness in particular, of course I would be a burden to anyone. I know it’s lying to me but my heart believes it right now. My heart believes my mind when it’s telling me that I am damaged goods once more.

Nobody wants what is broken.

I’m already second guessing your words and actions since I’ve been away. Something I never had to do because you never played games. You never messed me around or mind fucked me…not until now, anyway.

I put all my savings into this trip and my one at the end of summer because you insisted I stay with you. I can’t even afford a hostel when I come back to London because you said you wouldn’t accept rent money off me. You want me to stay but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to be there whilst my mind is already playing cruel tricks on me.

Tricks and lies that you have helped create.

I had to get weighed today because I was flying over the Nazca Lines in these tiny rickety planes and I felt unbelievably scared. I knew that knowing the number wouldn’t benefit me and so I didn’t look. You could say that’s a massive step forward for me and I wanted to talk to you about it but I can’t. 

The trust has gone.

The damage you have caused isn’t irreparable but it’s there for now.

I want to trust you but you’ve really left me a mess.

My brain and my friends think I shouldn’t go back but my heart wants to trust you. It wants to trust your words and actions these past eleven days but my brain and friends are trying to protect my heart from what happened to it 5 years, 1 year and even 9 months ago. 

I am so tired of crying.

The walls are up but that doesn’t mean they won’t be brought down once more. 

Right now, I don’t know if they should come down.

Hey Boy, Hey Girl

What’s that saying? A problem shared is a problem halved? Well, let me tell you, that’s never felt more true for me this past week. About a month ago I came across someone I didn’t want to see. There was no verbal exchange between us but the look in his eyes and the fear in my heart were more than enough.

It triggered me.

One month later and I’ve only just woken up to the fact that I need help again. I felt ashamed. The dirty feeling I had last year and three years before crept up and infected me before I could even attempt to create an antidote.. Riddled with memories of fear, the nightmares started again.

Family drama swiftly arrived just in time to make an already difficult time twice as deadly. I tried to bury myself in work to hide the pain. To avoid confronting it and then it all came crumbling down.

It all triggered me.

And boy, I fell hard.

But I eventually asked for help.

And boy, did I get more than I expected.

A text to ask for some company so I wasn’t alone with that bathroom calling out to me. A phone call to ask for dinner and a bed for the night and all of a sudden the fear subsided, the shame calmed down and the screaming in my head became a whisper.

And boy, did I cry.

I was all curled up on my bed and I let it all out. I ended up curled up on his bed and I let even more out. I went to her bed and let It all out again.

And boy, did that help.

Coming to London has been more challenging than I gave it credit for. I left Manchester and the people who had helped me over the years and I was in the City with no one to turn to. No idea who I could trust. However, I can safely say I have two people who have helped lift
the pressure.

And boy, do I appreciate them.
And boy, do I love them as my best friends.

I couldn’t be more grateful for the other half of El-squared (a name that was born because we realised if we combine our names we get Eleni or hers). I couldn’t be more grateful for such a wonderful human being who has entered my life and I sincerely hope she is here to stay.

I also couldn’t be more grateful for the guy who has recently entered my life. I’m incredibly proud of myself for letting my vulnerability come out. I do believe that allowing ourselves to be vulnerable with someone is a strong decision. He’s amazing, you know…and yet I’m still keeping him quiet. I really don’t need nor want anyone’s opinion and I’m enjoying keeping him all to myself. My special safe bubble. All mine.

In my little world of happiness both of these people have helped me create.

And boy, am I getting emotional just writing about them.

I suppose that shows that they truly mean something to me.

I have relapsed and I’m no longer scared to admit it. The hard truth is that if people do not know they can’t even begin to help me. If they don’t know my story they can’t begin to understand exactly how I need them. The other day I just needed his arms around me as I cried, I just needed that safe space he creates. I just needed her to help me eat dinner, I just needed that comfortable atmosphere she creates.

I’m sat on a plane right now and my emotions are considerably high. A slight tear of happiness drawing out the love I have for them both. Where am I going? I hear you ask. I’m off to Thailand, on my own little independent adventure. Two weeks to help me clear my head, two weeks to help me appreciate how strong I am and how proud I actually am of myself. Two weeks I am unbelievably excited for.

And boy, am I gonna miss them both.

She sent me a text before I went and it made me cry a bit. It genuinely did. God am I emotional for all the right reasons today?! Not only did she wish me the most amazing of adventures she told me how strong I am. I’m not about to go into details but she made me feel proud of myself and truth me told I feel exactly the same way about her. I feel as if she will be a constant in my life. A constant I truly need right now and I do hope I can give her just as much support as she gives me. A truly beautiful human being.

And oh boy does that make me lucky?

Signing off from God knows however many thousand feet in the air..

Laters taters ❤️

Raw

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Hands tense, gripping what they can. Trying to stand tall but everything is crumbling.

Heavier weights to try numb the even heavier pain.

But it’s falling away. It’s being ripped away.

It hurts. Oh it god damn hurts.

The pounding starts. The voices come running. Whispers turn into screams.

Walls back up but still spiralling downwards. One step forward yet five leaps back.

Lift even heavier. Push through the pain. It helps the hurt.

But why does it still hurt?

Tears stinging. Why is it still so raw?

I’ll never see him again but why am I scared that it might happen accidentally?

How did one person take away all my strength? All my confidence? All my self-worth? Why did he have to take it, just to have sex with me for a few months?

I can’t do it right now. I can’t fix myself right now. Somebody please pick me up because I really can’t stand on my own right now. Anyone. Please.

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Shit Happens

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I know I did nothing wrong. I know that sometimes you simply aren’t going to be the right person for someone but god, do I feel like a fool. Last night I wished I could say with conviction that it was his loss and yet I couldn’t.

His words have been such a contradiction to his actions and I simply feel like an idiot for thinking he liked me. I do believe he’s a nice, genuine guy and we probably could have been friends if we met in different circumstances. It might not have been his intentions but I feel like a glorified fuck buddy.

9 weeks ago, I removed my links to my blog from my social media, you know?

I was embarrassed. Okay, well maybe not embarrassed about my blog but more so that I was worried about presenting myself as broken. I removed my website from my profiles and stopped sharing links with the corresponding pictures on Twitter and Instagram. I stopped sharing my journey because I was scared of how a boy might accidentally stumble across chapters of my story without me realising.

Some of my previous posts about my recovery have been brutally honest but the hard truths are what help us recover the most. I suppose that whilst I happily share my journey with the world I still have that fear that when I like someone they won’t like the girl who’s been a little bit broken and battered along the way.

I did mention my ED to him but only briefly. However, that took so much strength. Strength I only found because he gave the impression he liked me. That’s what hurts right now. The fact I stupidly opened up to someone who didn’t see anything in me. I feel as though I’ve let my guard down and that I should have known better.

Wish I would stop stumbling across nice guys who accidentally mess me around.

You know what though?

Shit happens.

And I am never deliberately hiding my story ever again.

24 hours later and I genuinely believe I’m over him. The reason why it’s happened so quick? Because I have a group of badass friends who picked up the phone last night and convinced me to go to them. I travelled across the country late at night and spent all of today with them…still in the clothes I wore to our ‘date’ last night!

Thanks to him I’m going to be even more wary of guys than I was when I met him but also thanks to him, I got to see my absolute bestest who I didn’t get to see this Christmas. I got to see the two newborns of the group as well as their amazing mums who are even better best friends to me.

I got to spend the day with my favourite 3 people with endless cups of tea, biscuits and baby cuddles. So much laughter and a few tears were shed about how, once more, I’ve been messed around but there truly weren’t as many tears as I thought there would be.

Right now, less than 24 hours later I can say with conviction…it’s his loss, not mine. 

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Parenting the Parents

 

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16 hours. 960 minutes. 57600 seconds is all it took for him to fuck up.

Yet again. As always. Once more the man messed up.

His actions have hurt me more than ever before.

I hate how much he’s hurt my entire family. I resent the pressure I have had to cope with to hold us all together when I can barely keep it together myself. I despise what he’s done but most of all, I hurt.

I simply hurt.

There’s no more room for anger if I’m honest. The anger has gone but the hurt resonates with every breath I take when he’s in the room. I can barely look at him anymore. I simply can’t be around him. But mum doesn’t understand and true to form she keeps begging me to try be happy, to put up with it, to pretend everything is fine for her sake.

I hate that guilt trip even more. The fact I love her can’t make me love my dad. The fact I care about her more than anything can’t make me pretend to be happy. I simply cannot pretend anymore. I’m mid-20s now and I’ve learnt how all this pretence since I was a child made my mental health deteriorate so rapidly.

I’m incredibly close to my mum and I always have been but sometimes I truly resent the fact she kept this man in my life. Sometimes I wish, oh do I wish, she had taken him out of our lives because he has brought nothing but pain. She always ends up on the other end of the phone, crying, screaming about what he’s done now and sometimes about how she wants to die. So why doesn’t she leave? I want her to leave and so does my brother…my closest friend who won’t come home yet for Christmas because dad is here.

At least he can use his girlfriend as an excuse. I have no excuse not to come home for Christmas.

I do appreciate you can’t interfere with someone’s relationship but I have been coping with these breakdowns since I was I was a teenager. I have tried to hold us up for so many years. I have held it together for as long as I can but some days I simply can’t do it.

I saw my best friends today. 15 years and counting and now two have the cutest babies ever. He was only 4 days old. I held this little bundle of cuteness who was 4 days old and we all caught up. The thing about my Newcastle friends, my old school friends, is that we have all truly gone through some horrific things, somewhat similar things, and we can all relate to each other on a level that I have never had with any other friends.

Something interesting was said though when we were commenting on how surreal it feels that two are parents now:

Well, we’ve all basically been parenting our parents since we were teenagers haven’t we?

It is a sad thought though, isn’t it? I know my life has not been bad but that doesn’t mean bad things haven’t happened to me. Through all the pain caused by my dad and the accidental guilt trips by my mum, I was forced to grow up at a very young age. We all were. Other people also forced us to become adults before we were due but it’s very clear that all of us are at that stage where we can’t keep parenting our parents anymore.

Mum says she just wants a happy Christmas so why can’t I just put up with dad? My argument is, if you want a ‘happy Christmas’ why do you keep the man who just brings us sadness? I want to make her happy, but why does making her happy have to make me so sad?

Wouldn’t it be nice to look after myself?

Isn’t it sad how I cannot wait for the day I have an excuse not to be here when he is? Isn’t it sad how I was desperately searching for NYE plans, any sort of plan so I didn’t have to be here? Isn’t it sad how I’m spending the days out the house on my own, pretending I’m with other people, just so I don’t have to be around him?

I just want to look after me.

I’m looking forward to the day when someone wants to look after me.

When someone wants to make me happy.

When I can simply be happy at Christmas without having to pretend.

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Yummy Mummy #1

Twitter: @elenip92
Instagram: @elenipapa92

‘Time Heals’, That’s a lie.

Right now I am a mixture of very happy and very sad and I’m trying so very hard to figure it all out. I’m trying to figure out all these feelings and emotions and words and thoughts and I can’t work out what they all mean. Everything I feel lately seems to be a contradiction of itself and I do not understand any of it.

I suppose that we will always be too much for some people, too loud, too quiet, but we’re always going to be perfect for someone. Sometimes I really do wish I had that someone. That someone to hold my hand the other day when I saw him. That someone to come with me for my biopsy results that might tear my world apart again. That someone to hold me in their arms at night. Sometimes I think that someone is never going to appear.

I’m still in so much pain, I’m still hurting and feeling so worthless. I mean, maybe I don’t deserve to feel anything but worthless…maybe I am worthless. Maybe I don’t deserve to be more or to be treated better than everyone else has treated me. Deep down I know I deserve more, I know that’s the voice of the Demon but sometimes, just sometimes, I can’t help but listen to it.

Why did he not treat me like his girlfriend? Was he embarrassed of me? Ashamed? Why did that one, tell me no one would love me because I was bulimic? Is it true? Is it impossible to love the girl who makes herself sick? Was I too fat? Am I too fat? Why did he lead me on? Why aren’t my friends speaking to me? Why did he hurt me? Why did he lie? Why did they not help me? Did they even care? Did any of them ever care?

Is anyone ever going to care?

That voice is growing louder again lately and I’m fighting so hard to keep it under lock and key. I’m walking very shaky ground every day it seems, and I can tell I’m about to lose my balance. There’s so much pain coursing through my body but at the end of the day you can either focus on what’s tearing you apart or what’s holding you together.

I used to write about how I miss the girl I used to be, the one before the Demon emerged and before all the real-life demons too. I would write about how I wanted to be her again. How I wanted to find myself again and how I just wanted to love myself. It dawned on my today that I’m never going to be that girl again. I’m never going to be unbroken but that’s also okay. I realised that loving myself is remembering that when there was no one to wipe my tears I did it myself. That I picked myself up. That I put myself back together again. The Demons tore me down but I glued myself back together.

I sincerely hope my daughter never lies in bed crying all night about a boy, wondering what she did so wrong.

People tell you that ‘time heals’. They tell you that all you need is some ‘time’ to get over things. That is a lie. What people truly mean is that you get used to the pain. You eventually forget who you were without the pain. You finally forget what you looked like without your scars. I look back and that girl I used to be is exactly that, she is the girl I used to be. She wasn’t broken and she was full of ambition and hope. The girl I see staring back at me now is broken…but she is still full of ambition and hope. Hopeful that one day it will work out. That her someone will arrive and that someone will want her to be his someone. She has ambition pumping in her veins driving her for that dream life she wants, knowing that she truly is an expert at perseverance.

Time doesn’t heal anything. You can’t go back to the person before the hurt and pain. However, you can keep moving forward and that’s what I want to do. I want to stop looking back at the past 6 years and let it make me feel worthless. I can’t help but look back but I’m starting to get used to the pain. I suppose I’ve been used to feeling this hurt for 6 years now, why am I even surprised if someone else adds to it? I just really wish they wouldn’t. I really wish they took more care with me.

I hope the next someone does.

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Saving Me

Always the one who is trying to save everyone else, trying to save each friendship and each family relationship, trying to find a solution, the in-between, that keeps everyone happy. So why does it feel as though no one wants to save their relationship with me?

Am I not worth saving?

Why do I try to compromise, try to swallow my pride to save a friendship and yet the other never seems to budge from their standpoint? I try to find that middle ground, try to back off in order to save the friendship and stop the arguments but it doesn’t feel like there was any reciprocation. Not really. Not ever.

Used and taken for granted.

The second one hurts more because I’m used to being used. But fuck it. Fuck it because I am worth so much more.

I am worth so much more than anyone who doesn’t value my friendship or the effort I put into that relationship or anything I have done for them. I’d always let them know how much I love and appreciate them but I never hear the same words back.

I am worth so much more than what I think I am. So much more than what people have made me feel that I am.

And I know that. I’m getting so close to being in the best shape of my life, not just physically but mentally and the best of it is, is that people are starting to notice that. I’m starting to notice that. I’m starting to notice that I am slowly saving myself and becoming the best version of me.

And that version of me is worth the effort and the special treatment. I’m worth someone who will want to show me off and take me out and do things with me. I am worth someone wanting to maintain any type of friendship with me. I know I am worth that and so much more.

I am smart and funny and I am beautiful.

I don’t think I’ve said that for a long time but it feels great to not just say it, but to believe it.

Friends, relationships, family…they’re all missing out on me and they’re gonna miss me. They’re all going to realise what they had and what I did for them and what I would have done for them but by the time they realise that, they’ll be seeing me with someone who treats me the way I should be treated.

I’m becoming happier and stronger and I am so proud of that but one day I’m going to be so strong and so happy that I won’t even notice them missing me.

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