Road to finding Beth

I should be happy....

2012-02-20T23:07:00.000Z

"Eating disorder awareness week.
Who are you?"

Well thats the big problem isn't it. I don't know who the fuck I am. And as every day passes, and I achieve the goals I set. I become more miserable. Today I could barely see straight. I can't concentrate on anything. My eyes hurt and my head hurts.
I should be happy. Two cups of tea and a cup of broth. I should be happy. But all I feel is sluggish, and tired and fucking miserable. I feel miserable. I don't want to leave the house, ever. I want to sit forever. I feel listless and aimless and helpless.

Why am I not happy. Everything I wanted I got. My situation is good. Everything is good. Everyone is off my back. I have nothing more to desire. I ate what I told myself I would. I should be fucking happy. And I'm just not. I'm not even hungry. I'm not anything.
I feel like starving myself is all I have to do now. I don't want to eat until saturday. And I can do that. But why isn't it making me happy. It doesn't even feel about weight anymore. I don't care. I could weigh fifty pounds and I wouldn't care. It wouldn't make a blind bit of difference. I'd still starve. Because this is not about my fat. My weight. My hips or my goddamn thighs. Its about how if I don't starve, I am nothing. I don't really know whats happening. But I don't feel good. But I'm not going to change.

My head really fucking hurts. It does. I need to cry I just can't. I want to.
I floated through my day. I went to college. I sat through three hours of lectures and heard virtually nothing. I didn't think it were possible to think the same thoughts for that time. Apparently it is. How is it I can sit and think of 89 for hours. But I can't hear a word the lecturer says. Or the girl next to me. Or my friend in the car park. Or even my boy.

Why have I moved in with the man I love but I spent my entire night in the bedroom. Alone.
He knew I needed space. I told him so. I doubt he knows this is it for ever. I doubt he knows this is not going to pass.
Antisocial. Is that the way it always is from now on. Is this it. Is that the ultimate sacrifice for control.

In my head....

2012-02-19T15:30:00.001Z

Now I've got my explanatory post out of the way.

I'm in that state again. The place where I stare into the mirror. And cry. I drop my eyes across my shoulders, my chest, my arms, my stomach, hips, thighs, and calves. And I cry. Yesterday I stood for god knows how long and could not tear my eyes away.

The problem? The person staring at me in the mirror. ~~It is me~~. ~~It is not me~~. It is not how I see myself. I look a pictures and think, that is not how I look, and have to go to the mirror to remind myself what is actually there. Why is my appearance so very foreign to me?

It took a picture to shock me into remembering who I really am. I relish being thin, fragile, breakable. Thats just who I am. And right now I am none of those things. I am large, substantial, and really just fat.
I feel embarrassed to leave the house, I cancelled plans last night because I could not face more pictures in my current state. Its getting worse. I'm not really sure whats going on with my head.

I will start things simply. Beth a little bit at a time. Head to toe.
My eyes.

The eyes are the window to the soul.
I close my eyes for fear of people looking in.

I fear my eyes have little to give away, everything is so poorly disguised anyway.
What secrets can be found within?
There are no secrets to be revealed. Just a thinly woven web of lies.

The saga....

2012-02-17T21:52:00.003Z

I know I've been gone a while. But my life was panning out too quickly to keep up with myself.

I didn't get out. I couldn't. I love him far too much. For so very long he is all I ever wanted and now I have him I cannot throw him away. When my friend died from anorexia. He was there, he was the only one I told the whole truth to, and he is the only person to this day who never judged me for that.
He broke down a week after I moved in. But since then things have been better. For that first week I let him do things his way. I did not blog. I ate what he put in front of me. I did not think about the food I was putting in my mouth. I was mindless and soulless in everything I did. I went to college. Came home. And sat with nothing to motivate me.
And then he cracked. He said it was "all too much". He can't "look after me like fucking toddler." I need to "get my shit together or get the fuck out". He told me I had been like a zombie, like a ghost. Always there but never present. It was terrible. And then it was better. I screamed and shouted and cried until he listened. He had to understand I never asked him, nor do I need him, to look after me. He needed to know I am no longer in the grips of anorexia. I no longer have an unhealthy weight or bmi. However it will always be a part of me, take it or leave it, I cannot change. And at the moment I have no desire to.
I told him I was selfish, at times manipulative, and often slightly delusional. But he knew this before he chose to be with me. He knew me. And he still chose me.
The last week and a half has been better. I feel more myself. More present. More alive if anything. I feel as though I can have love and control all at the same time. If I can get the balance right.

We agreed it would only hurt us both if he continued to read. I would have lost my only outlet, and my comfort from like minded people. And he would have lost his girlfriend to a girl who is very different from the one he loves.
They are not two completely separate people, just separate sides, separate mindsets. And they are both equally me. They are both equally necessary. But they do not mingle. For everyones sakes.

For now, he is off my back, he says it will stay that way, as long as I am fine, healthy, and happy. Which makes me very happy.
For now, I do not have to choose between him and Ana. But already, little white lies are there. And as much as it pains me to say I fear that anorexia is not as far in my past as he believes. And recovery is certainly not complete.
For now he does not have control. Although I'm not sure I do either. Neither of us are sure. Only time will tell.

And girls, as much as I wish I could leave and do whatever I want. Make all the decisions and be free. I fear leaving would kill me. To loose him would kill me. Kill me much sooner than anorexia ever could.

The Fear....

2012-02-05T16:13:00.000Z

Transparency may be a the largest curse bestowed upon myself.

Today I found an old diary. Before I discovered blogging I always found it therapeutic to write. My last page in that diary was the third of February. Almost a year ago to the day. And the worst thing about it is I feel as though I have not progressed one tiny bit from a whole year ago.

Last year I wrote
"All I want is to finally be happy. I know what I need to do. I need to be thin. I need to be beautiful. I need to be loved. I'm sick of living life not going anywhere"
If anything I have never felt further from being thin and beautiful.

Ladies you were right, He asked me to move in so he could 'keep an eye on me' he wants to control me. He tells me what I can and can't eat to prevent relapse. I try to tell him I am about thirty pounds from being at risk. He does not listen. He has told me if I go anywhere near 120 pounds he will tell my parents. This has not made my life easier. I thought with everything out in the open I could stop being the deceitful bitch food turns me into. However his support has disappeared and his control is constricting me in every way possible.
I love him of course. Too much, and we will work through this. I am just devastated the affect this has had on our relationship. He used to say anything that made me happy he would let me do. But now, the one thing I need to feel happy and in control had been threatened. By my own doing, my own fucking negligence. I have no one to blame but myself.
I started staying with him a few nights a week and slowly I am moving my stuff in, leaving clothes and bits and bobs around. But I really don't know if this is a good idea.
He says he feels safer when I'm with him. Like he can breathe easier knowing where I am. But I wonder if thats a good thing. He says he wants to protect me and save me. My heart and my head have torn from each other. My head is telling me to get out. My heart knows I can't.

And yes Christina, that terrifies me the most. What if everything I say from now on he sees. He did not write the address down. But how am I to know? I fear that everything I write now will be censored so as not to offend. But I had always promised myself this blog would be 100% me for better or for worse. It nows feels as though I must edit it to sound better, to make myself sound more together. But whats the point when none of that is true?
I pray that he does not continue to read. I fear it would hurt him more than I can bear. I fear that it would be altogether to much to handle. I can hope. But I do not know.

Sometimes I feel as though he has invaded the one thing that was mine. I need it back. This is all I have now.

Bliss and Despair....

2012-01-31T23:12:00.000Z

There are those days in your life, that will always mean so much. They are the days that makes hunger pale in importance. And the width of your thighs seems less significant than it did the day previously. There are days that change your life, and days that change nothing. Today was one of the days that changes everything.

Two things happened. Perhaps the order is more significant than anything.

1. My boy found my blog.

2. He asked me to move in.

In that order.

Elaborate. Please.

I am a fool. Recently I have taken to checking blogger multiple times a day. I find it calming and therapeutic and I feel valuable to the world in some small insignificant way. I was feeling out of control this morning. I checked in to see what was new, and left it open for less than two minutes while I ran to the toilet. Apparently two minutes was long enough.

When I came back. He had read my last three posts. All three were wishy washy and did not incriminate me. And that would have been fine, had it all ended there. I tried to take the laptop off him but he was speaking to me in a way that made me realise I was not winning. He asked me what this was. I told him it was something I was reading. He saw straight through. He already knew it was me. The tattoo. That bloody tattoo. I could have kicked myself.

He wanted explanations. But what can I say. There is no way to explain away all my feelings laid bare for people to see. By then it was all too late. I sat and could not look at him while he read everything from the beginning.

It is not as if he thought I was all normal, and, well, sane. He knows about me of course. But there is something very different about the watered down version of events he heard, and the innermost thoughts and fears wound up in my mind.

He however had never had the full story from the beginning. He has now.

I could not watch. The conversation afterwards was horrible. Simply horrible. I hated it all. He was devastated but I couldn't work out how. He said he hated reading through my hurt, but he also could not stand my lies. Which hurt more?

And yet one small selfish side of my brain was saying. 'You can't hide anything anymore. He knows EVERYTHING. All your secrets, all your lies. Your motives. Your tricks. Everything. He's going to stop this. He will make you stop. Now you've really fucked it up. He knows everything and he won't want you anymore'

Then number two,

He asked me to move in.

Someone please explain. I have no idea how the hell this happened. I have no idea how after everything we talked about this morning, he decided he wanted me to move in. How this endeared myself to him is absolutely beyond me.

Torn between bliss and despair.

Welcome to my life.

And he tattooed my heart with lies and promises....

2012-01-29T22:24:00.000Z

As the ink penetrates my skin I shut my eyes.
Ready to loose myself in the pain.
His rough hands pull and prod my skin as he asks me to turn further to one side.
The needle stings as it reaches my hip bone and I flinch.
The man is ugly and fat, yet it feels so intimate to be exposing my skin for him to mark me for life. When it is over. I feel a sense of achievement.
I have survived something I was so petrified of.
What else can I survive?

My boy will not be happy. It will be one more thing for him to worry about. One more thing he will have to explain away. He says he has already accepted he cannot change me, and cannot save me from myself, but I wish I did not hurt him so.

The newest addition to me. It hasn't healed yet, and it hasn't scabbed over so its still looking a little bit icky. But its also the first glimpse the blogging world have had of me. Ladies and gentlemen, my hip/stomach-ish area. I am working up to showing you all the rest of me.

Something....

2012-01-27T21:57:00.001Z

Thank you for dropping me all the blog titles.
Tomorrow I am starting ABC. I have to do something.

Blog Plea....

2012-01-22T15:44:00.001Z

I was wondering if you lovely ladies could all suggest your favourite three blogs. I'm looking for some new reading because I haven't updated my blogs I'm following in a really really long time. Feeling a bit out of the loop.
Thank you <3

What 89 means to me....

2012-01-18T22:38:00.000Z

Its been strange. Hard because its been to easy. Its amazing how hard old habits die, and in just three days they came creeping back. Its like two layers of my concouisness are arguing. Both strong. But one must win. One side knows that something had to be done, yet detests the method. And the otherside is willing to do anything to get what it wants.

I understand that 89 pounds is low. Logical me knows this. Logical me knows a 'healthy' weight isn't too far from what I am now. But what is physically healthy for me, does nothing for my physcological health. As I was just three days ago makes me feel out of control and helpless. Being in control of my food again makes everything seem so much more manageable. I'm just generally happier and its addictive. Why would I ever not want to feel like this? Feel calm and relaxed and organised.
But 89 pounds isn't about 89 pounds. 89 pounds is one pound less than I have ever ever been in my 'adult' life. Thats what 89 means. That I'm still good enough. That I can still do this. I want to be the best that I can. I can;t explain this properly. But 89 is so much more than a weight on a scale, a number or a Bmi. Its just so important to me to be able to do it right. Its so important to me to reach that.

Its beyond striving for perfection. Its simply me. Its what I need to do for me to give me purpose and to give me worth. And although it is low, it is not dangerous or critical. Often it is not the weight that is deathly, but the mindset behind it. Surely 89 would only harm me, if 87 were to follow, and 85 after. This time, I think I can stop. I will find the strength to allow Rational Beth to intervene, to say enough is enough.

I weighed in at 134 last weigh in. Theres still a way to go.

Me in numbers....

2012-01-15T23:33:00.001Z

Hello new high weight. Today I stepped on the scaled for the first time since Christmas and my holiday. And it was not pretty. I was pretty disgusted by myself. I didn't cry or freak out, I just thought thats it then. Time to hop back on the bandwagon.
Its strange, I'm oddly resigned to the stupid cycle I'm stuck in now. I knew the scale wasnt going to be kind. But I didnt expect anything less. And the new high weight is always followed by a new low or at least lower weight.
Its just this time I need to do it right. I need to either not make myself ill doing it. Or I need to get better at hiding it. The problem lies in my perception of thin and the rest of the worlds.
My parents start to freak out if I go anywhere near 7 stone (98 pounds) . Which for my height is 'underweight' but doesnt look thin on me. So they expect me to stay way above that. Apparently perfect weight for my height is around 135 pounds so 9 stone 9. But I would feel so awful if I was that high. Hello new high weight.
I've never disclosed my weight here for embarassment and shame. but here it is for all to see. Please do not judge me, 138 pounds.
Otherwise known as 9 stone 12 pounds.
Only 49 pounds between me and a new low weight.
89. Thats where I'm heading. Yes. Back to normality.

Thats me in numbers. I've never felt so laid bare. But it felt as though it had to be done.

Christmas....

2011-12-29T23:02:00.001Z

Tomorrow I am going away. I am going skiing and I am unbearably excited. I intend to come back from skiing half a stone lighter at the least. And by the end of January I will be back to my low weight. I cannot wait.
This year has been shitty, amazing, crappy and oh so wonderful all in 365 little days. And next year will be even better. It feels as though its time for something to change. I'm not quite sure what yet but I'm sure something must. I hate feeling out of control and when everything is planned with lists I'm so much calmer.
I spent my christmas day with my beautiful new filofax putting everything into boxes and it was easily the best part of my day.

Christmas was wonderful. I woke at nine and the christmassy excitement was yet to hit me. My sister gets so excited by it all and its sweet to watch. My dad came down to spend the morning with us as my sisters gets very upset if he isn't here. We all exchanged presents and it was lovely and so cutesy and just perfect. I saw my boy in the morning and he made my christmas. We swapped small gifts but he needn't have given me anything because he made me so happy just to see him.
He bought me the most gorgeous shoes and I was glowing all day. Christmas dinner was of course the largest feast ever. And it was the only part of the day that was slightly uncomfortable.
It was lovely.

Its Christmas....

2011-12-21T22:39:00.000Z

Christmas is nearly here. On the one hand I am happy. My christmas present this year is a fabulous camera and I cannot wait to take beautiful pictures and start to use them within my blog. I will show you some before and after pictures because I feel as though it is all very well me telling you all what is going on, but maybe it would be better if I could show you. I adore photography and cannot wait to indulge my hobby and hopefully take some amazing pictures. Probably at the beach. Everything looks beautiful at the beach.

On the other hand, I find christmas hard. Its a lot of pressure. Being around a table of twenty people, all trying not to watch and all failing miserably. Its a bit like morbid curiosity. Like when you see an accident, you know you shouldnt look, you know its not polite, yet you just can't not look. They all know that the last thing they should do is draw attention to me. Yet somehow by the immense effort they put in to not draw attention, the exact opposite is acheived!
I won't let it get me down though. This christmas I'm determined will be perfect.

I want the perfect family christmas. The fire, and santa claus, and snow. I would love snow. I want this christmas to feel like a film. More Miracle on 34th Street than the Grinch.

After saturday I feared all my hopes of keeping my lovely boyfriend we're going to be over. But just to prove how lovely he really is he forgave me. He told me that yes he was upset that whatever had happened, had happened. But it seemed like an oh so trivial reason to break up with me.
He asked me if I loved him (yes of course) and if I still wanted to be with him (more than anything). And said that was all that really matter.
Of course it wasn't quite as quick and easy as that. But that is all that is important. I am spending christmas eve with him and his family, so it seems as though this has not harmed our relationship too much.

I worry about my fear of happiness. And my love of self destruction. But for now it is christmas times. And the problems. They can wait.

Hope....

2011-12-18T23:06:00.000Z

Do you ever feel as if there is something inside of you that prevents real happiness. I feel as though as soon as I become happy, or am in a situation that could potentially lead to happiness, I immediately push the self destruct button. No one can come to close.
I am warning you, I am a terrible person. I have to come to terms with this.
I had not eaten since thursday, and last night I went out for my friends birthday. I got very drunk very quickly and made some stupid mistakes I will forever regret.
I ended up taking my ex boyfriends brother home with me. Thank god nothing happened because I fell straight asleep when I got home. But the point is, I was going to do it. I was going to throw away the best thing that ever happened to me, just because I could. Just because I was more intent on getting revenge on my ex than I was on preserving my relationship with the loveliest boy. It is bad enough that I took him home with me, I held his hand, I leant on him in the taxi and I let him kiss my head and smell my hair. I let him tell me I was beautiful and how much he wanted me, I let him hold me and I let him stroke my face while I slept.
It hurts me to write all this down, because I hate feeling as though I am damaging people's opinion of me. But I made a promise to myself that this blog would be the whole truth if nothing else. I am a human being. I am incredibly flawed.
And it was sad to realise that all of those things I did hurt my boyfriend far more. The affection. Thats what hurts him the most. Our relationship is very different from any other I've had. We can spend hours together just sitting or listening.
I would have probably caused less damage if I had slept around. I don't know if this damage is reversible.

I hope so.

Happiness....

2011-12-14T17:25:00.000Z

All I want to do is eat hundreds of custard creams. They make me happy.

Theres always a silver lining....

2011-12-12T23:32:00.001Z

It broke my heart to hear him say 'I can't be with you. I can't watch you die'. Its so infuriating to hear my flaw being used against me so badly. However the end of the conversation was, 'I love you anyway, too much to not be with you'.
I am with my boy, its everything I wanted, and I cannot stop smiling. He is beautiful in every way and I am sat here wondering why I did not find him sooner.
He leaves me in two minds, one wants to be skinny and beautiful for him so he is proud. The other wants to be happy and healthy so he is happy. Which side will win is still debatable.

Thats just enough....

2011-11-28T00:02:00.001Z

The sun sunk and the brightness faded. My eyes grew accustomed to the twilight, picking out shapes further off in the distance. I could see the rise and fall of his chest as he lay next to me. The sand warm, despite the november chill, and his hand resting under mine. I sit in his jumper, bare legs, and boots. Feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time. I feel safe. The sun reminds me of a tennis ball as it slides lower beneath the sea. An orange tennis ball of course. It has left streaks of pink highlighted across the sky, like scars as a reminder of its presence.

He sits without stirring as he has sat for the past hour, his eyes intense on my face, looking past the tears that had escaped. When I lie down, eyes shut. He lies next to me. Close enough for me to feel his breath. He puts his arms around me and allows me to cry.

There was so much I wanted to say but it seemed easier not to. He was probably thinking the same. The talking is yet to come, but I know that it is too soon. Coherent words and phrases will elude me right now, and it will take some time before any sense falls out of my mouth. He is everything I am not, sensitive and eloquent. He is one of the few reasons I believe I can do carry on.

He is one of a kind. He is my best friend. He calls me beautiful. He never expects anything more than what I can give. He knows enough, without knowing too much. He is so much more than what I deserve. He believes the same of me.

I have wanted him to want me for so very long. And have accepted that his "I love you"s mean something very different from what I wish they would. But I am grateful he is there. Something's just aren't meant to be. And when it is so very important he has never, and would never let me down.

Few people can I reveal myself to, bare my soul to and still be ok. Only he could hear what I have to say and not think of me as a terrible person afterwards. Only he could say what has happened is not my fault, and mean it. And only he could understand that there is no saving me, just as there was no saving her. He loves me enough to let me be happy any way I can be.

Although grief courses through my veins, and my heart feels heavy as ice. Even though I am not happy. I can see there is a light, somewhere, there is always hope. I do not want to be sad forever. I want to learn something instead. I want to be able to say that everything happened for a reason. And that reason, whether it be big or small will make everything worthwhile.

Sometimes it takes a really bad situation to make you appreciate everything you really have in life. Sometimes it takes the antitheses of life to make you realise thats exactly what you crave. So why not live life to the fullest. Be it skinny, fat, tall, short, ugly, pretty or any combination. When you die, who will know the difference? So even though I will never not want to be thin and beautiful, and it is a quest that will be eternally ongoing. I will not let it ever hold me back from doing anything and everything I want. Maybe thats enough.

Enough is the pink sky at the beach. Enough is a warm hand to hold. Enough is fireworks, fairy lights, stars, music, photographs, lollipops, stripy socks, tea cups, flowers, braids, glitter and so much more. Everything I would miss if I were no longer here. Thats enough.

The beach is my favourite place in the whole world. Everything seems just that little bit better there. And being there for hours on end doesn't seem like a strange way to spend my time. The beach is where I would like to spend forever if I could. Forever and eternity please.

Explanations....

2011-11-21T18:50:00.000Z

I'm sorry about the post yesterday. My head was, is, all over the place. So I feel like I should explain.

I've mentioned one before a while back that I had a friend with severe anorexia. She passed away on the weekend and it has sent me emotionally over the edge. I don't know how to feel about it all. At the moment everything feels factual and nothing feels real. I can't put anything into perspective.
Her parents are the worst. I cannot face them knowing I knew all along. They thought she was getting better. And it is as if I killed her. I did not stop her. I did not tell her I understood. I did not say anything. And now it is all too late. And although I have not accepted she has gone, I know she is not coming back.

So I'm writing it all here to try and gather my thoughts. I'm hoping if I see it all in writing I will come up with some magical solution to all this. A run down of what happened.

It wasn't glamourous. It wasn't fabulously dramatic. It was death. What I know is, she collapsed, she was taken to hospital and her heart was failing. They tried to save her but it wasn't enough. My mum sat me down and told me. I hadn't expected that. I hadn't expected any of it. The scary thing. She hadn't been ill that long. It began christmas last year. But by summer she was 'better'. Or so I was told. So everyone was told.
And all I can think of is how can I pretend that this was an accident. She kept a diary of food and I believe of her thoughts. Everyone is bound to find out soon. They will know that her world was a tangled web of lies obstructing the truth. She will no longer be their perfect, glowing, happy child. They will see clearly how hurt she was. How she despised herself for everything she thought she was not.
The worst thing that could happen, is for them to find all this out. Now they remember her as their loving daughter. I do not know how they could cope if they found out otherwise. Tainted memories would be all they had instead of the happy ones they have now.
She is gone. And the things we have left must be preserved. I will keep her safe. I should have before. I won't let her down now.

Its all over....

2011-11-20T21:12:00.000Z

She wanted the world. She led a life waiting for love. She hid herself amongst colours and light and madness, hoping never to be revealed. She inspired me, loved me, just as much as I loved her. She was beautiful, clever, adored by all. To everyone else she had everything. To her she had nothing. She was ~~beautiful~~ ugly, ~~clever~~ stupid, ~~adored~~ ignored by all. But what was it that killed her.
Heart attack.
Her own body.
Her own mind.
Ana.

Its all over now, I can't come back from this. I've lost her and its a matter of time before I lose myself. Its all over.

All going on....

2011-11-16T21:57:00.000Z

Its like a switch has flicked. My mind has turned topsy turvy and everything is upside down, but in a weird way it finally feels the right way up. I made myself sick today for the first time and I have to hold my hands up, ladies I can never do it again. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I'll stick to what I'm good at.
I'm also in deep shit, I blacked out while driving today and if my friend hadn't been in the car I don't know what would have happened. Its all going on. I'm trying to write more and clear my mind. Ill be back.

Maybe your gonna be the one that saves me....

2011-11-14T00:37:00.000Z

Sometimes love just isn't enough. Sometimes you can have everything, but you can still be missing that one vital thing you need most. Sometimes what you crave most is the one thing that just isn't there.

Dr physco-babble is intent on finding a reason, a 'trigger', and for the life of me I can't come up with one. I'm sick to death of having to pretend like everything happened because of one significant factor in my life.
And most of all I'm sick that no one will accept that the one 'defining' moment they all believe is my trigger, doesn't affect me as they all wish it would.
When I was younger, I was always one of those people who wanted everyone to like them. I tried to people please, no matter what the cost, because to be loved and cherished is all I really desired. I desired to BE desired.
So when I was younger I gave myself away, I gave myself away to a man, and he was a man whilst I was still a girl. I thought that was the only way to cement his love. I believed he loved me that much I'm sure of. But I'm also sure that he probably didn't. And whilst I knew what I was doing, and I was a willing participant, I thought I knew it all. And I'm also aware that I was foolish, naive and probably knew far less about the big wide world than I would like to imagine.
Thinking back on that time doesn't make me angry or sad or worthless. Its one of the few times when I felt worth something. I was making someone happy. Isn't that all people in life aim for?
Dr P-B seems to think this is where it all stems from. He believes that I was exploited and now I am trying to repent my sins by punishing myself. Which with the greatest respects is the biggest pile of bullshit anyone has ever spouted.
It has come to a point where I wonder how long can this go on. How long can I spend dissecting area's of my life trying to explain something, frankly I believe is simply unexplainable. Maybe there just is no reason. There is no logic behind cancer so why should there be logic behind this. Maybe it is plain and simple genes and luck.
A one in however many chance?
A slip of DNA.
A random mutation.
A twist of fate.

I think my parent think its easier, easier to have a reason. It is easier to explain away if it becomes someone else's fault. But I just don't believe it is. Big things are unexplainable. Big things are scary. So everyone keeps trying to find the reason, at least then they can pretend to understand it.

Who knows. I know that despite how people keep saying soon everything will be back to normal. This IS my life, and to me this IS normal. I know that even though I may not think exactly the same as someone else, I am no less normal than anyone else. And this normality everyone expects to return to, did it even exist in the first place?
I know these things, and there is so much more that I don't know. I'm working on the rest. Theres space in my head now where so much used to be cloudy, the space is a good place to start.
I don't understand why I behave the way I do sometimes. But what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. And I'm learning. I'm relearning the boundaries of what is acceptable without using my illness as an excuse everytime. I'm learning that trust does exist and maybe one day I will meet someone whom can earn mine.
I also know this, that everything takes time. And as far as I'm concerned I have plenty left of it.
There is so much more to say, but I shall save some.
I love you all. <3

Beth is back....

2011-11-04T22:03:00.000Z

Slowly the puzzle pieces start to fit into place.
Its strange the things you realise when theres nothing left. When theres no more hiding. Theres so much to gain. When theres no more hiding, I've nothing to lose. I saw for the first time, the rawness behind everything. I'm still here, behind everything I know, and everything I've manufactured, everything thats so unreal. I am still here.
I finished Wintergirls, and me being a malleable, naive, childish, scared, and so easily persuaded I thought if it worked for her it could work for me. So I stand there naked in the mirror, looking for answers god knows where.
I look for the bones, the skin, the hair, and the eyes. Are they the same eyes they were just two years ago? The bones are there, my skin looks thin almost paper like. It is vaguely tinted brown, with tan lines remaining from sunnier days. My hair is dry, dead in protest, waiting for the rain. It doesn't do what I want anymore, nor do I expect it to. My eyes are blue, the same as my fathers. But they are not bright and sparking, they are damp and dreary and remind me of rain.
Theres nothing remarkable about me.
Then you look a little closer, a scar above my eyebrow, a small scar on my wrist. Memories and reminders.

I think I'm finding myself. Bit by bit. Beth is coming back.

The yellow brick road, What to wish for....

2011-10-29T00:13:00.002+01:00

"I could.
If I really wanted to die, right now, this minute, in this empty place, I could stab myself in a vein; they're easy enough to see. I could walk into the blizzard and lie down in the snow and bleed out. Hypothermia and blood loss is like going to sleep, like pricking a finger on a thorn or a spindle.
I could."

I never could. I never would. I am forever a coward. I chose the easy way out. I am not brave.

Sometimes it feels like theres only one way out. Its not going to let me go. I'm not going to get better. It wont let me. How can it. It can see me drowning.
So theres just one way out.
I can't live like this forever. I can't be the girl people look at and pity. The girl people whisper about, talk about, laugh about. I never realised before how, well, embarrassing it it. They all assume I'm vain. None of them seem to understand that its quite the opposite. I didn't stop eating because I wanted to be 'more beautiful' and 'thin' and god knows what else. I had nothing, I needed to find me.
A small voice inside of me said if I wanted to be strong, I needed control. It just so happens the only thing in my power to control was food. They all seem to think I did this on purpose. That I wanted this. Theres nothing I want less.
I was a scared little girl. Feeling so very small in a huge world. Trying to find her place when everything seemed to far, too fast.

The problem is, I didn't find myself. I don't know who I am anymore. I'm no further than I was all those years ago. The difference is, its too late to go back. And thats the scariest thing of all. That theres nothing I can do. I've been sucked in, hard and deep to a world I don't want to be in. I don't know how to escape. And until I can. Each and every day is a struggle. I love food, I do. I never developed a hatred as for it as so many do. But I deny myself. And when I don't deny, when I 'fail'? I want to burn in hell as punishment.

Rational Beth is tired of being defeatist. And is so scared that the only way out is to die.

Irrational Beth thinks its about time. Thats where its heading anyway.

Lost....

2011-10-24T22:36:00.000+01:00

Fuck.
What the fuck. What wrong with my life. What the fuck is wrong with me.

I failed at Abc, as I have failed at everything that came before that. That was not the worst of it. For weeks I have been absent, ashamed to come back and face you all. Ashamed to admit my weakness, and show how pathetic I really am.
I've been eating like there's no tomorrow. Trying to find some self worth to replace the loathing.

I gave up my body to him. To pretend I was in control. To pretend I was beautiful, sexy, special. It feels so good to be wanted, even if only for a brief time. To feel like one person needs you, or needs something from you anyway.

I don't know what to say.

I want to take over control....

2011-10-07T23:01:00.000+01:00

This week has been odd. I'm feeling reasonably better after a set back midweek. I've decided to stop whining on and acting the victim about my ex. But I will fill you in on whats been going on.
On monday he text me asking when he could drop off the stuff I'd left in his flat. Cue awkward conversation. He rang me then and we tried to talk but I ended up getting upset while he got confused as to 'Why I cared'. No comment on that. Anyway we came to the conclusion to meet up on wednesday, we went out for dinner and we both ended up at tears at the table, which meant we conveniently left without food. We ended up having a huge argument in the car, and getting pulled over by the police who were concerned for my safety apparently.
Slight curveball, he at the end of the evening asked me if we could go on a date on friday. And me being pathetic and desperate I agreed. Long story short. It didn't go well.
I realised one of the biggest reasons I hated this whole situation was because of how utterly out of control it made me feel. But since ABC I feel all the more in control of my food. And so much calmer as I realise that I have control over my life. If I want to change it. I will. No one else. Me. So thats what I will do.

Abc day one - Intake 409/500

Abc day two - Intake 432/500

Abc day three - Intake 272/300

Abc day four(massive fail) - Intake 660/300

Abc day five - Intake 106/100

I know two of the days were over but I'm feeling positive. Five days down and five pounds down. Maybe just maybe this is my time.

It feels like home....

2011-09-29T23:20:00.001+01:00

I ate yesterday. Its impossible to argue with my dad. I didn't have the strength to bother. My body rejected food. I was ill, all night until the last of what I had eaten had been removed from my body. I felt punished by my own body for actually allowing myself to eat a meal without worry or without restricting amounts. My dad says I look awful. I said I didn't really feel like eating. Father heard me being sick. He phoned my mother. She phoned the doctor.
Am I not allowed five minutes to be sad. Five minutes to do what I want and not have to worry about what everyone thinks.
I feel like I'm sinking at the moment. Slipping through the cracks to flow away underneath. My head is full of fog, and my thoughts seem less and less coherent by the minute.
I have not tried anything stupid. I think I'm sane enough to realise its not what I really want. My thoughts cannot help but drift. . . Maybe if I were in hospital, he would want me back, he would realise all that I meant to him. If I were say, hit by a car, or. . . so many ors. So many stupid thoughts revolving in my head as I feel endlessly sorry for myself.
Why should I think I will never find another who will love me, or treat me as he did. I'm not dead yet.

Thank you for all the comments. Both comforting and oh so inspirational. Thank you for your wonderful words of encouragement to Karolina, Fat Piggy, Sophie, Wintergirl, Esme, and Beth. Blogger has become my escape. I find myself checking it multiple times a day. It feels like home.
Thank you for all making this home.

I am nothing....

2011-09-25T16:56:00.001+01:00

My boyfriend dumped me. I'm hurting all over, my throat is blocked, my eyes are sore and my cheeks are red raw from tissues. I don't know how to feel. I've never been so hurt in my life. I miss him so much already. All I want to do is sit at home watching sad films just so I can feel like this is not rock bottom but it is. And the worst thing is, he said I only had myself to blame. I want him back so badly, and although he's hurt me and upset me and made me so angry, if he came back tomorrow I'd accept him with open arms in a second.
He told me we were braking up because he met someone else, one more time where yet again I'm not good enough. I'm never enough and I will never be.
I went to the cabinet today, I took out a tray of paracetamol, and I took sixteen. I pictured myself unconscious on the floor when my mum got home. I pictured her crying. I pictured him realising everything he had lost. Then I made myself sick. I don't think I want to die. Not just yet. And I don't want to go that way, I want people to think I'm brave, not a coward. I want to be able to say goodbye.
I just can't see being happy. I can't imagine my life being full and rounded and complete, I can't image being anything more than a weak, pathetic, lost little girl. And I am lost, so lost in a world so very big and happy and sad. I want so much and I have so little to give.
I want to fade like moonlight, disappear like rays of sunlight, and be forgotten slowly. I was never worthy. I cannot make people happy. I'm so sorry for being upon this world, contributing nothing. I'm so sorry for so much. Sorry just isn't good enough now. It never has been. My sorrys mean nothing.

I miss me....

2011-09-20T00:10:00.000+01:00

He took my hand. He said he loved me. I smiled back wanly, nodded, and said "Thank you". He paused, waiting, I suppose for my reply. I gave none. He didn't notice the sympathy in my eyes. The pity as I realise, its time to cut this one loose. It could have been special. It still could be. But secretly I know it cant be.
He requires so much I cannot give, He deserves so much more than I have. But for now I need to be realistic. And realistically I have no more energy to focus. I feel so very selfish. But maybe I am. I want everything my own way. But is that so wrong.
I've had enough of searching for something, when I don't even know what I'm looking for. I've had enough of endless struggles. Endless doctors, appointments, medicine, people, faces, problems, solutions.
I desire warmth, affection, a comfort for a lonely night. But I can offer nothing in return. What kind of person does that make me? Should I give up now. Or in a year, two, five?
When did I get so tired. So boring, so very bloody monotonous. I feel trapped, as if I am within the same four walls day in, day out. I feel as though each step forwards is on step closer to taking one step back. I fall into the same pattern, Recover, Rethink, Relapse, Rethink, Repeat.
I will find me. I miss me.

Is this progress....

2011-09-15T21:03:00.001+01:00

Back to the doctors, back to the pills. Depression this time. What will it be next...I'm not depressed. I swear he gets paid by the number of people he diagnoses with depression.
It meant arguments. Many of them. I can't bear to have people touch me and its beginning to wear me down. Its getting worse, the loathing of my body, the loathing of myself. People are noticing, and its upsetting them. My boyfriend doesn't understand why I don't want to be close to him, he doesn't understand why I don't like him touching me. He's getting mad all the time and shouting, I guess he's feeling rejected. But I don't know what to do.
I've also started closet eating, I don't eat all day because I don't want to look weak, but I get home and once everyone is in bed I can't help myself, I gorge and I stuff myself and I am so very ashamed of myself.
What is wrong with me.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder....

2011-09-10T20:48:00.000+01:00

I'm ill, in the boring ordinary sense of the word. As in, I have the flu, or a really bad cold, or something, and for three days I've been wallowing at home watching rubbish Tv, feeling sorry for myself. My nose is sore, my eyes are running, I feel the height of attractiveness. It has however meant I have had lots of times to catch up with blogger.
I've been busy, back in college surrounded by the endless sea of faces, and swarms of people, it brings a kind of familiarity that is strangely comforting. Knowing that no-one is looking too closely, and each person has their own personal problems meaning they wont be interested in mine. Work has taken over, and between chemistry papers and biology practical assessments, I seem to find little time to obsess. I find it strange how an absence of unhappiness leads to such a surge of hope. I've been to busy to be sad, and although I have no reason to be happy, I'm strangely contented.

Living under the influence....

2011-08-31T23:11:00.000+01:00

I wake up, sweat stained, tear stained, in a mans shirt that falls almost to my knees. I tell myself last night was empowering, emotional and romantic. Really last night was a desperate attempt to prove my self confidence. And in one single night any progress I may have made was ripped out from beneath me as I sacrificed myself to please another, to prove that someone somewhere did love me, to feel wanted, and needed, and desirable, and beautiful. And in the morning I feel dirty. I feel unwanted. I feel sick.

How many times will it be before I learn?

It seems these days that it is only I who continues to make the same mistakes time and time again. What kind of stupid and superficial human would consider harming themselves to 'make everything better'. Me. Thats who.
Food is no longer the enemy in my life, I have become my own worst enemy. Food is simply the way I punish myself. Why do I deserve to eat? I have done nothing to be proud of, I have no achievements this particular day, so food can wait. Until it is deserved. Until I can say, yes, you earned that.

Work is particularly challenging at the moment, no one has noticed quite yet the dark circles under my eyes, and the thick tights, and jumpers in summer covering up bruised legs, and arms. No one has noticed that I don't stop after for lunch with everyone else. No one has noticed the tired glint in my eye that comes from lack of sleep and living off my nerves. Not yet they haven't. But they will. When they do, and so the lies will flow, effortlessly. As if they have been told a thousand times before.

Nothing new here....

2011-08-19T07:28:00.001+01:00

Withdrawal hit me. Like a train on a track. Recovery is a bitch, and like a helpless coward, I caved. Something in me has given up, a part of me has decided there's no point. Sometimes you need an escape, some people do drugs, some people drink,some people cut. I have food. Not eating food is my release. As darkness draws in and seeps into the furthest corners of my brain, I spend more and more time alone. I'm not lonely on my own. I'm not happy either.

I've been missing....

2011-08-06T19:47:00.001+01:00

Hello everyone,
I'm back, I haven't written in so long, I've just been missing. I've been holiday in Greece, lucky me right? It was truly the holiday of a lifetime. I honestly had an amazing time, despite all the shit and all the drama. Sometimes you can have those really blissful moments where you just forget everything and think for that one moment you are serenely happy.

I learnt two things on holiday. Firstly I learnt that I was not the largest person on the beach, I was not the most obese by the pool, and strangely enough, people seemed to look at me in the right way as opposed to staring at me because I'm fat as I previously imagined had been the case. But secondly I learnt that I am not ready to rid myself of my illness just yet.

With the holiday, came pressure, and old thoughts flooded back. Old thoughts saying, what if your hips jutted just a little more, what harm can another few pounds do? You'll put it straight back on on holiday, it needn't be a diet. And with that pressure slowly it crept back up on me. I fucking hate lying all the time but I can't stop myself. Why am I a failure. Why can't I get better. I know I sound like a broken record, but I can't make sense of what's going on in my head, I'm so confused, and I just feel so bloody alone in it all. I wish I had someone here to help. But I don't.

It was my birthday yesterday. Another year older. Another year sadder. Another year when I didn't accomplish anything. I didn't count for anything. I always think if I died tomorrow, what would I have to show for my life. Who would I be leaving behind. Who would miss me when I'm gone, if anyone. Its a pretty sobering thought to try and place worth on your life. What counts? Tiny moments of success? Minuscule moments of happiness? Nothing counts in the end. And in the end I am nothing.

Happiness....

2011-07-19T22:13:00.002+01:00

Each second we have is stolen.

I'm in my happy place, my head is clear, and bright. I feel light, buoyant, as if nothing could bring me down. And I'm happy, for once.
I'm in this blissful haze that follows when someone new wanders haphazardly into your life and instantly has an effect. Its so very uplifting to remember that people can genuinely like me for everything I am or am not. I feel like I'm stuck in a rom com with the soft focus and hazy sunlight glinting down on my life.
However brief this happiness may be I intend to fully appreciate every second of it, and every single smile it brings.

When the darkness gets easier, you know your sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.

Or maybe so very alive.

Finding control....

2011-07-15T23:05:00.000+01:00

I get awfully worried, that without my control on food, my life would spiral helplessly out of control. Everything would just fall apart. It is an irrational fear, but one that has ruled my life for many years. And as fears build up, and habits grow and expand, horizons shrink until all that is left is the smallest hint of who you used to be.
Strangely, slowly, I'm beginning to think, maybe, just maybe, the whole world doesn't revolve around food. And maybe I'd get on just fine with it, as I am not getting on without it. It occurred to me last night. What if I resigned my control, and began to think of other things, what if that would be just fine? I have come to define myself by food, by what I allow myself to eat, what I prohibit and what I weigh. Perhaps the fear is, without a fear of food, who would I be?
Life swings in roundabouts, and for every strong attempt at recovery, a stronger attempt at deception soon follows. But if I no longer wish to deceive. If I no longer wish to be defined by an illness. If I stop being a case, a study, person x, and become me, what is there to stop me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Deception creeps in, as the niggling doubt in the back of my head tells me, "Don't eat, Food kills", and with no logic, I listen. Deception takes over my mind, encompasses me, and clouds my thoughts.
And now, so very strangely, I am beginning to think, not only could I deceive deception, and bypass it completely. But perhaps it may also be, for the best.

The elephant in the room....

2011-07-12T22:51:00.001+01:00

I met a boy.
But I feel fat.
He says he likes me.
But I feel fat.
He thinks I'm gorgeous.
But I feel fat.
He says he loves my figure.
But I feel fat.
He wants to date me.
But I feel fat.

Nothing he says, does, thinks, feels will change what I know. Until I am thin again, in control, and beautiful, I feel eternally fat. I do not deserve him.

The girl made of broken glass....

2011-07-05T00:34:00.000+01:00

I've always had this fear, welling up, always present, never fading. I've had this fear that I'm never going to be good enough. I'm never going to be kind enough, pretty enough, thin enough. What if my best just isn't going to cut it? What if my best simply isn't enough.
All my life I've been compensating, trying to impress and please people, making everyone happy. I couldn't bear the thought of upsetting someone, even if they had previously upset me. I was never comfortable enough in my own skin to stand up to people and tell them when I knew I was right.
I could never understand how anyone could possibly love me.
People love people who deserve to be loved. Why do I deserve that?
People love people who are vibrant, and strong, and courageous, and oh so beautiful. On the inside, and the out. People don't love people who are weak, and feeble, and sad, and oh so very fragile. Like glass. Finely blown until it was paper thin. Too fragile to touch, too fragile to kiss, too fragile to hold, too fragile. The glass looks strong, its bright colours lulling you into a false sense of security. A facade. Making you believe you can touch it, feel it. But if you try, if you dare, the glass will shatter into a million pieces. And no matter how hard you try, those pieces will never fit together again, it will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same.

So who can love that? Who would love that? Who would even try. People love people who won't shatter. Me? I already am, broken, waiting for someone to pick up my million pieces and slowly piece me back together.

I dropped a vase today, it shattered, it didn't break into one or two bits, it shattered and each shard of glass caught the light and threw out rainbows. It was so beautiful. I never realised before.

Broken things can be beautiful too.

Not quite sleeping beauty....

2011-06-30T23:53:00.000+01:00

I'm so very tired, tired of almost everything. The nights seem to be increasingly long, whilst the days flit by in the blink of an eye. I scarecly notice an hours passing each day, yet each hour of the night seems longer, if possible, than the last. In insomnia's tight grasp I have far too much time to think. Too much time for memories and regrets I'm so very desperate to release or repress.

If only I could sleep.

Missing....

2011-06-27T12:15:00.000+01:00

I wanted to start this post with a little more positivity. I know sometimes my posts may not be a great deal of fun to read but I find my emotions increasingly difficult to keep in check.
So I wanted to thank all the lovely people who've been leaving such positive words of encouragement on my posts. I really means the world to me to know I'm not going it alone.

I'm starving, hungry for someone to bring me back to life, I feel like I'm floating high above the ground, untouchable. I'm missing something in my life, something to hold me down, keep me here, keep me safe. What do you do when theres a hole in your life, and you don't know what it is going to take to fill it? What do you do when you feel something is missing, but you haven't got a clue what that could be?

And until I find it, I will never be complete, never be happy.

Maybe....

2011-06-22T22:34:00.000+01:00

I broke down on monday. I cried, I cried for six hours and I could not stop. Every repressed emotion i had ever pushed down inside of myself and willed not to surface came pouring out all at once. I began to cry for all the regrets I have.

I feel so much responsibility placed upon me, and so many people relying on me, it seems there are endless possibilities for me to mess up. It began with a day of celebration and love, Fathers day. I had spent the day with my father, but it was bittersweet, I realised in an instant, that everything had change, we were no longer the big happy family we were once, and next year things would be different once again. The moment we have now, will never be the same again.

Once I had begun to think, really think about my life, I could not control myself. I feel as though I constantly dissatisfy people and it kills me.

My mum seems so sad, and it is no ones fault but my own. Since the divide in my family, I have attempted to be the glue, acting between my mother and my father, whilst keeping my sister happy, and feeling loved, studying, and working. I am a poor substitute for the happy family we used to be.

I cannot help but feel, maybe, just maybe, if I had never been ill, my parents would have been eternally happy. Living life until death did part them, as they vowed so many years ago. If I had not robbed my parents of their happiness, and years of their lives, maybe none of this would have happened.

My mother said to me once, that I had not stolen her life, I had stolen my own. I was a child, I have no happy memories of being young, and just being happy and contented. I simply have memories of unhappiness, discomfort and guilt.

I feel such guilt still to this day, I wish I could rewind time, relive the years I lost, and begin again. Begin doing things right. I want to take away all the hurt and the pain I have inflicted on my family, my sister, and my mum.

I want to say sorry. Sorry for so much. And although she will never read this, and as ignorance is bliss, I would not wish her to have to see. I am apologising. Nothing I say will be adequate, no words. But without cliches and without falsities.

I am sorry.

Revelations, Happiness, Love....

2011-06-16T22:20:00.000+01:00

Slowly I am beginning to see that that person I once was isn't someone I want to be.
I want to be beautiful, I want to be desired, I long to be perfect. But I don't want to die. I want to be loved, adored, cherished, but this is much to high a price to pay.

Ten months ago, I saw this picture when searching the internet. I thought this woman was the most perfect any woman could be. She was skeletal, skin and bone, no one could compare to her.

No one could claim to be thinner, therefore she was perfection. The ideal.

Now I realise, this is not perfection, this is illness, she is not the ideal, but a warning. I want to be beautiful oh so much. But I want to live and survive. I realise now that I have a life worth living, and although I will always want to be slim, and beautiful, and inevitably I will always wish to be perfect, I believe now there will always be a small rational part of me, begging me to remember, remember this woman.

Who knows what pain she felt? Or what joy and happiness? I cannot judge, and I will not. However she taught me something I never thought I'd learn. That until I am happy, until I know myself, and love who I am. I will never be thin enough, I will never be perfect, and I will never be adored and cherished, unless I learn to adore and cherish every bit of myself.

I am not saying all my troubles have disappeared overnight. But sometimes, I just must remember, that looking perfect, or my idea of perfection, will not make me happy. I myself must be happy.

Take each day as a blessing. Each breath as an opportunity. Each blink as a new outlook on your beautiful life.

The day I died....

2011-06-13T22:20:00.000+01:00

I feel so out of control, my life is moving to fast and all I want to do is rewind, just one year, go back to when I had choices, and decisions, and it wasn't too bloody late. Its always too late, and as my head pounds, and my eyes fill with tears, I feel so helpless. My granddad used to say, don't worry bambina, theres always solutions. But this time, there isn't. There is no solution.

I wonder does everyone begin with the same hopes and expectations as I did? Did they all fall flat on their faces as I have? I didn't see my life planning out like this. I had a plan, I knew exactly what I wanted and when I wanted it. Now its so far away, and impossibly unattainable. Why did I think I was any different from anyone else? Why did I have this stupid fantasy that I could achieve what I wanted, when I'm no different from anyone else.

I'm not special, I'm not unique, I have nothing more to offer.

I miss me. I miss being happy.

When did it all slip away?

When did my I become someone I don't know.

The choice is made....

2011-06-09T23:35:00.001+01:00

I rode my bike today, for the first time in a very long time. I rode it to the beach. Once there, I hauled it over the sand and the dunes, the pebbles and debris to the special rock. There is this amazing rock which stands alone in the middle of the beach. I imagine once it had companions, but they have since been covered with years of sand and water washing them away. When you stand on this rock, and wait, you can watch the tide come in. You watch the sea come in around you and completely engulf you until the rock is like an island standing alone in the sea. I always felt so very free on this rock, like I could do anything, and when the wind blew around me, ruffling my hair and whipping my clothes, I felt invincible. When the tide is fully in, the water is deep, and you hold your breath, screw your eyes shut and jump. The water is always freezing, but adrenaline rushes so quickly, you don't feel the cold.

From here you make a choice, you either swim back to the rock, to sit some more and eventually swim to shore. Or you swim out, out into the sea, further until the rock is a dot, and you going back is not an option. You simply swim outwards, into the vast ocean, with all its many secrets.
So very many times I have wished to do this, yet every time I find my body turning back, swimming to safety, taking the cowards way out.

I have a choice, there's always choices. Do you swim backwards to familiarity, to safety, to what you know and hold so dear. Or do you move forwards, into fresh water, leaving everything behind you as you move into the future? Do you swim on so that the past becomes just that, past. Distant and foreign and gone. Never to return.

Every time, I think I am getting better, I reach that rock. And every time, I go back. Back to old ways, old habits, old thoughts, old fears. My past will always be my present, my past has left me with no future. My past is all I have.

The trick to life....

2011-06-05T21:41:00.001+01:00

Do you know what scares me the most? I'm terrified that one day I'll forget who I am.
Whatever ounce of me and my personality that is left, will simply be so obscured by the multiple, elaborate personalities I've constructed to protect myself. I have a different face for each different personality not only to protect myself, but to protect so many others around me.

I could not bear it if my parents knew what really went on below the surface. If they didn't think I was the pure embodiment of a now happy and healthy girl, I really don't know what they would do. Blame themselves? Blame me?

And at the same time, what would I do if my friends, the people I spend so much time with, realised that i wasn't the person they all thought they knew. Because how can you be friends with someone who hides so much, lies so very often, and is incapable to stop herself?

I don't know what the missing piece of my life is that makes it so bloody hard for me to just appreciate what I have and just be happy.

Many times I've wished for a magic solution, a genie in a bottle, and yet again, here I wait for someone else to pick me up, sort me out, and just tell me that they care.

The girl who knows all the right lies....

2011-05-30T18:12:00.000+01:00

What is worse, having an eating disorder. Being completely ruled by calorie intakes, fat consumption, and addicted to restriction for the rest of your life. Or watching someone slowly waste away, die before your eyes, helpless to do anything about it.

I've always been so selfish, not knowing and not really caring about the affect my actions have on anybody else. Least of all my parents. In the early days when I was only thirteen, or fourteen, my mum would cry, begging me to change, begging me to "cut it out" and "quit this stupid habit". But I was powerless to do so.

Was I unaware she was hurting? No. Did I want to hurt and punish her? No. But could I change, stop at the drop of a hat? Never.

I knew what this was doing to my family, I knew that my parents were in despair at what to do, but for some absurd reason I could not change. But it was not a lack of caring, it was an inability to break free from the powerful and devastating cycle I was trapped in.

This all changed less than a month ago, when the tables turned and one of my dearest friends, who I absolutely adore, was referred to an eating disorder clinic. I felt my world come crashing down, how could this happen? Why her? She is beautiful, smart, so very slim, and altogether very perfect. How could I even entertain the thought, that my happy go lucky, bubbly, fantastic friend was not quite as perfect as I had once thought.

Suddenly it was me, gently encouraging her to eat, trying to be on her side while at the same time helping her to get better. Telling her all the same things people have been telling me for as long as I care to remember.

But from her I hide a shallowly hidden secret. That I am a hypocrite. Because who would I be to tell her, that I was, am, in exactly the same boat,

The story of my life....

2011-05-29T23:10:00.000+01:00

Would you like to know a secret?

All my life I've felt like a fraud. In anything I do I always feel as if i am simply observing someone else.

Let me explain, when I was younger, I never quite fit in, I always seemed to be between friends and I never had a few, or any, close friends. When I progressed into secondary school I came into my own a little, and by age fourteen I had a close knit group of friends who I loved dearly and still do to this day.

I moved into college last september and weirdly effortlessly college life came easily to me, friends were easily made, and an illusion of popularity surrounded me.

Yet I feel a fraud. Sometimes I look at myself, surrounded by my happy, good looking, skinny friends, I can't help but think, what am I doing here? I think, every time, I just don't belong here. I feel like a liar, like I'm pretending. I feel a fraud in my own life. I was never cut out to be popular, never cut out to be in with the 'in' crowd. That was never going to be me. Yet somehow, by some inexplicable change of circumstance, here I am.

When I first flirted with restriction of food, I was determined that I would never have an eating disorder, I was determined that would never be me. I never even noticed the tell tale signs happening right in front of me. I didn't see myself slowly beginning to lie to my parents. I didn't see myself hiding food, or tricking people into thinking I had already eaten.

And why could I not admit I had a problem? Because to do so would make me feel like a fraud, like I was trying to be something I wasn't.

And that is the story of my life.

A beginning to the never ending journey....

2011-05-28T23:43:00.000+01:00

Someone once said, "Do not give help to those who do not want it, as those who require shall ask."

I've never really understood this until now, I never realised what this really meant. I do now.

How can you help someone until they are willing to help themselves? And furthermore how can you expect help if, in the end, you just wont take it?

I often wonder, when I'm sitting and day dreaming, what causes a person to have an eating disorder, what traits do they have in their mind which bridges the gap between a silly childish crash diet, and a deadly disease? I wonder what situations had to arise for one person, one in a million, to no longer be watching what they eat, but to be obsessed by it.

Controlled, completely and utterly, with no hope of ever returning from it. What is it that decides whether we, anyone, you or I or her, become encompassed, taken over and totally paralysed by something that slowly devours our minds and bodies from the inside out.

This is the first post of what I hope to be many, not solely about eating disorders, but about me, my life and all the different aspects within it, and the thoughts that cross my mind every day. I hope to be honest and truthful, and I hope that someone out there will read this, identify with me and perhaps even understand.

I write to help me find myself, and maybe some others along the way.