Tonight should have been a binge night. See, everything was going well until I successively broke three of Ana's most important rules: Eating after breakfast before I was hungry Eating a non-lunch food for lunch (in this case, leftover veggie nachos) Baking, and eating not one, but two muffins, again before I was hungry. It was looking… Continue reading A Small Win – in your face Ana!
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
This week, I saw something that frustrated me. It frustrated me to the point of 'borderline rage', the kind that hasn't consumed me for a long time, and the impulsivity that accompanies this. In this case, the impulsive act didn't cause much corporeal damage - I posted a long, deeply personal post via Facebook. The… Continue reading Anorexic is not an adjective
Sometimes I count calories so meticulously I know for certain how many have gone in and out. Sometimes I eat more calories in one sitting then I could ever hope to count. Tonight is one of those nights.
This sensation claws at my chest, crawls inside my belly, and shivers beneath my hands, an internal shaking that I cannot cease. It's relentless, and stronger than my heartbeat, stronger than every intake of breath. Clinging to counter tops, resting on chairs, nodding the wooziness away, headaches and brain fog and heart murmurs that don't… Continue reading Starvation: the all-too familiar sensation
I am torn between two impossible choices. I'm torn between the presence of bones and the absence. I'm torn between starvation and binge eating. I'm torn between a complete emotional breakdown or numbing out with self harm. I'm torn between plain rice cakes and fruit and vegetables or bread and cake and peanut butter. I'm… Continue reading The A-B Battle
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
The first time I hurt myself I was sixteen. I used a pin, and scratched the part of my body I despised the most at the time - my hips. I blamed myself for my brother's cancer diagnosis. I blamed myself for the shouting that accompanied his move back in with my parents. I blamed… Continue reading My Self-Harm Story
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
My eating disorder, who I named Ana, (even once my diagnosis became bulimia) took a lot of things from me. She took my memories, she stole precious experiences, friendship, smiles and joy. She took energy, warmth, strength, focus, self-worth, concentration and control - the irony of that last one is not lost on me. She… Continue reading Eggs For Breakfast