Posts

Returning from the irreversible

There were many things I have told myself I would never do. I never thought I would let myself gain weight, but I have been physically recovered from anorexia for two years now. I never thought I would self harm, but now I have a body covered in the scars of my self-destruction. I never… Continue reading Returning from the irreversible

A New Therapy Path

I've seen a few people in the mental health blogosphere describe the process of leaving a therapist a bit like Nanny McPhee: When you don't want them, but need them, they must stay, and when you want them, but no longer need them, then they must go. This is not necessarily true. I am not… Continue reading A New Therapy Path

She’s creeping in

There. Just there. A little more to the left. Shift slightly upwards. There. Did you see that? I can count every rib. Wait. No, there's some missing. There's too many missing. There. Just. there. A little to the right, a little to the left. The light is in the wrong place now, and I've lost… Continue reading She’s creeping in

These are not my only needs

I need to draw to calm my anxiety, but I'm shaking so badly I can't hold a pencil steady. I need to stop shaking because it's freaking people out, but I'm so agitated I can't stop. I need to look after myself, but a worthless person places all others' needs above their own. I need… Continue reading These are not my only needs

Chapter Zero: A Brief History of My Time with Mental Illness

I'm going to tell you a story: There once was a girl who was slightly insane, with eyes so bright they matched her brain. She had no troubles of what the day might bring, and when it was silent she would secretly sing. There is still a girl who is more or less sane, but behind… Continue reading Chapter Zero: A Brief History of My Time with Mental Illness

I don’t want things to be different, just worse

I'm struggling at the moment, lately, still, always, of course I am, because what else would I be doing if I wasn't struggling? The depression is back with a vengeance, anxiety tells me I'm going to die every time I catch public transport, suicidal ideation has been bad, self harm urges have been bad, the… Continue reading I don’t want things to be different, just worse

Step Into The Waves, Not To Come Back Out

I say that things are rough a lot, but things are rough at the moment. Not in the usual way either. Things are rough in a new way and I don't like it. The urge to self-harm has become a desire to hurt myself, driven by a sense of failure and need for punishment. The… Continue reading Step Into The Waves, Not To Come Back Out

Waves

Think of what it feel like to drown: the water covering your head, entering your throat and nose, trickling into every possible entrance, smothering, choking, burning. Imagine the panic that bubbles beneath the surface, the terror that streams from your stomach to your chest and up out of your soul through tensed shoulders and a… Continue reading Waves

Chronic Depression, My Old Friend

When I was younger, before all the bad shit happened (read: anorexia followed by years of intense bullying which only reaffirmed that if I was just thinner, things would be better) I thought depression was purely episodic. I thought it only occurred during grief after a death, that it was a really intense sadness that hung… Continue reading Chronic Depression, My Old Friend

My Depression Has No Metaphor

I was trying to think of a metaphor I could use to describe depression. There's an obvious problem, with it being utterly indescribable. All this bullshit about clouds that rain only over you, and darkness that doesn't recede, isn't really wrong, but it doesn't fully capture the essence of depression. Which, just to eliminate the… Continue reading My Depression Has No Metaphor

Suicide Doesn’t Seem Selfish To Me

People say that suicide is selfish. And sure, they're right - it is selfish to leave behind bereft family and friends who you cannot support, who will never know your last words and last thoughts, and constantly question if they could have helped, if they could have done more. Keeping me alive is also selfish.… Continue reading Suicide Doesn’t Seem Selfish To Me

Strong Not Skinny: Lifting Weights in Eating Disorder Recovery

The first time I attended yoga I was fifteen years old. I was the youngest person in the class by at least ten years. I started to practice yoga amidst eating disorder recovery, as I attempted to leave behind excessive exercising, and build strength instead. Strong not skinny is my greatest mantra. And it really… Continue reading Strong Not Skinny: Lifting Weights in Eating Disorder Recovery

Sketches From a Psychiatric Ward

They're strangely aesthetically pleasing. In 2017, I was admitted to three separate psych wards, for a total of six weeks. It might not seem like a lot, and sure I had 46 weeks of non-psych ward living, but these were my first three trips to the ER, and first three admissions to hospital for any… Continue reading Sketches From a Psychiatric Ward

Declined

M, yeah, not much I can do with this, sorry. Aren't discriminatory doctors the absolute worst? They see me as three letters, as my abbreviation; they see me as the negative adjectives in my notes, in the words "aggressive" and "sedated" and "self-inflicted". They don't see me for what I am: hurting, and in need… Continue reading Declined

She’s a deep one

In one of the many stories I have written, I describe how a character stitches her own foot close, and the black thread that wobbles across her heel like a tree branch, because she couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she sewed herself back together again. It's a chilling detail, but recently I imagined… Continue reading She’s a deep one

Broken streaks and bloodied sheets

I was able to go five weeks without self harming. It would have been 35 days tonight. 35 days of urges. 35 days of urge surfing. 35 days of ignoring the buzz of sharps calling me from afar, from the kitchen, from my desk, from the toolbox. It would have been 35 days if it… Continue reading Broken streaks and bloodied sheets

hi! hello! yes, i’m still here!

I've just been busily working away at another project, another outlet to channel the relentless onslaught of emotions through. This project is... A book! It's not the first time I've attempted to write something of a decent length with the hope of having it published. Oh no, my hard drive is full of unfinished manuscripts,… Continue reading hi! hello! yes, i’m still here!

A Surge of Urges

The urges rattle my bones as if there were an earthquake beneath my skin. Clenched fists hang at my sides as if the harder I press my fingernails into my palms, the easier it will be to win this fight. The thought consumes me: to cut or not to cut? That is the only question.… Continue reading A Surge of Urges

Learning German: The Bildungsroman

As most of you may or may not know, I'm currently in my third year of university (or college, if that's your thing). This semester, I decided to give myself a break from science to look after myself and focused instead on the literature part of my degree. One of my courses is about a… Continue reading Learning German: The Bildungsroman

Dear body, can we be friends?

It took a deep breath and sighed, I've been waiting my whole life for this. Slowly, slowly, I begin to reclaim my body. I reveal my scars in short sleeves and shorts, and I hide them beneath floral tattoos and deep quotes. Slowly, slowly, I am learning to define myself beyond my mental illness, beyond… Continue reading Dear body, can we be friends?

i’m not who you think i am

I was never supposed to be the girl who gave up. The girl who struggled. The girl who was trapped in cycles of self-destructive behaviours. I wasn't expected to be the one to end up in hospital, to end up with scars, to go from underweight to overweight and back again. I was expected, for… Continue reading i’m not who you think i am

Scribing Life

I wrote a thing; a Virginia Woolf inspired thing. It's for uni, but I'm super happy with how it's turned out and wanted to share it with some other lovely people. If it's italicised, then it's quoted from VW. And it's semi-autobiographical, but not entirely.  Here's my attempt at scribing life: Several violent moments of… Continue reading Scribing Life

Slides and Steps*

*pretend it says snakes and ladders, okay? In the town where I grew up, the playground I frequented most often had a deathly metal slide. One of those really old-school, stainless-steel terrors with a ladder at the back and a field of prickles at the base. It was horror in summer, but epic nonetheless. I… Continue reading Slides and Steps*