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

I'm going to tell you a story. There was once a girl who was so energetic people described her as "crazy". She had a wild, untameable personality, and loved nature, acting, art and school. She was proud of her intelligence, and she didn't let being different stop her from doing anything. Then her mind turned… Continue reading Chapter Zero: A Brief History of My Time with Mental Illness

Some Things

I had no idea what to write today. Most of the time, when I sit down to write, or to blog, or to journal, whatever it may be, I have a pretty clear idea of where I'm heading and what I want to achieve. Lately, everything is a mess. It's so much of a mess… Continue reading Some Things

Hatred

It's been a tough few weeks. It's been a very tough few weeks. The suicidal thoughts have returned, just as strong as before. I hate this. It's something I repeat to the friends I reach out to, over and over and over: I hate this.  I hate not knowing myself, I hate that I can't seem… Continue reading Hatred

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

The Art of Opening Up (and of lying)

They say it's an act, as if opening up is purely an action and nothing else. They say 'just' open up, as if it's easy in the first place, like 'just' starting the car, or 'just' cleaning the kitchen. It's not an act. It's an art. Acting would be the way I lie to everyone… Continue reading The Art of Opening Up (and of lying)

Eggs For Breakfast

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

Reasons to Recover

I was thinking about my eating disorder, as I do, as I always do. I was ruminating, remembering the sensations of anorexia. I remember, even as I try to forget, to force the images from my mind, the memories of bony reflections. I try to forget these tainted memories, the lies that Ana feeds me,… Continue reading Reasons to Recover

A Word on Being Alone

For the first time in my life, I have experienced true alone-ness. Not loneliness, the longing for other people, nor deliberate isolation where my eating disorder could fester. Not a desire to be by myself. But a whole new experience - 'aloneness'. I lived alone for just over six months, and, retrospectively, I have realised… Continue reading A Word on Being Alone

Nurturing Internal Wounds (AKA therapy sucks)

Since my last period of extreme suicidality (okay, so essentially the last few months of 2017), I have had a "treatment team" looking after me and my mental health. This includes a GP, psychologist specialising in mood disorders and a psychiatrist. During eating disorder treatment, this also included two eating disorder psychologists, an occupational therapist… Continue reading Nurturing Internal Wounds (AKA therapy sucks)