I wrote about being  trapped by geography for so long. I genuinely believed I could escape my troubles by getting on an airplane and forging a new life.

I did.

I am still the same. I am still haunted by the same things. I am still a raging bulimic. I am killing myself slowly. I  haven’t healed,  I hurt less. My emotions are not as violent as they used to be but I know they are there. 

I have nights when I cry till I wrap my hands around my own body and  embrace myself. I cannot bear to look at my mum’s pictures. It breaks my heart. Talking to her on the phone. It crushes something inside of me. I can still smell her scent sometimes. I like to imagine her calm disposition. The trips we used to take, me on the passenger seat. Its still so vivid.  I carry these memories in my bones and in my heart. I carry it with me.

 I do not write as often, writing makes me tap into those dormant emotions. I can feel the helplessness in my hands. I can feel the tension, terror and confusion in my temples. I am not alone nor am I lonely. I am terrified of these avenues. I am terrified of being so broken again.



I have blocked so many scenes from the past few days. Only now is it starting to trickle in and it’s making me emotional.  My dad cried, My brother too. My mother remained close lipped, trying to be strong and I wish I had stared at her more and took her in. There is no perfect goodbye, no hug tight enough, its all like sand. I keep picturing my parents and brother standing at the lines near the check in point as I looked back to wave goodbye, the light blinding me, I could not see their faces as I made my and kept looking backwards, only saw silhouettes. The Curl of my mother’s hair, the tallness of my father, my chubby sweet sweet brother. Handing in my boarding pass, I looked back and waved goodbye till I disappeared into the unknown.


​I recognise myself inside these walls, I know who I am, here. Firm roots which I felt have restrained me but now suddenly cherish. All these ornaments, this bed in which I have shed many tears in, healed in and fallen apart all over again. This bed knows all my deeds… all the darkness, gluttony and shame. And this room which knows all my secrets. This house, that chair, my chair. That rock outside, my mother, father and brother, that random cousin, this street, store, shopping centre.
 I can’t let go. It’s as though the song has not yet been fully sung. I need more time. To absorb it all. More time to cherish.

My mother, her laugh, her voice, our Saturday trips- another ritual severed. My big brother and how he reminds me of a teddy bear, so gentle, kind, patient and my best friend. The series we watched, the inside jokes, the understanding, the fights. I will miss those fights, I was always the volatile one and he remained calm.

This is the last time I will ever sleep in this bed, this house, this city, country, this continent.

I can’t process this sense of loss, this great pain that comes with change. I can hold back my tears when in a state of disbelief, it has not sunk in. It does here and there, lately the spaces between believing and not have become wider. I’m really out the door.

Is this how it feels to have wings.  Heart in stomach and on the verge of tears

My biggest dream has come true and it all happened so sudden, I don’t know what to do with all this progress, I’m not used to this. All I’ve ever known are sealed doors and the ones that close shut abruptly as soon as my foot draws near. All I’ve known are illusions and big dreams. I can’t rearrange this matter in a way that makes me believe it’s really happening.

 I wish tomorrow would take its sweet time with its arrival. I need more time inside these walls. 


Struggling to get out of bed, granted it’s only 7:30am but my bones are so weak. Christmas is almost here and I am so behind with my studies I can feel the anxiety taking over like I will spontaneously combust at any moment.

My family including my aunts and cousins are planning to go away for a road trip for Christmas not anything major just somewhere fun and inexpensive. I am looking forward to it but there’s always that bit of anxiety and that panic over what I’ll wear to hide my body and what food I’ll have to eat. I’m not completely a helpless baby anymore when it comes to my ED, whenever I go somewhere if there aren’t any safe foods for me I suck it up, by either eating a quarter of the food or turning my nose up at everything. I don’t whine about it to whoever is with me or cry about it. I quietly deal with it, I am gifted at carefully managing my pain/worry in front of the masses. I wear a good mask that fits firmly. I have been disordered for 10+ years I get that some people may be “over” my eating disorder, I gather it’s just a matter of “well at least she’s still alive” to them. Sometimes when I am with my mum she sees I’m uncomfortable and she simply pushes the plate and away from me in a way you can say she’s “enabling me” but it’s just that SHE KNOWS.

I hope our trip will be successful and this Christmas will be different.


Tonight I said to hell with it and I ate a proper dinner since Wednesday night and it tasted great. I am fed and full but oh so empty & weightless. Where there was once a heaviness in my chest has been replaced by unfeeling, I used to cry out about this sensation were what occupied my chest would reverberate endlessly as if the contents would spill out and I would completely shatter and never recover but now all there is silence and silence does not mean peace.

Yesterday afternoon I came undone, crying until I smudged my perfectly winged water proof eyeliner. Rocking back and forth holding my chest as though I was performing this gut wrenching scene in a drama, only it was real and I found myself questioning my existence and why it is so that my will is strong but why can’t I find a way.

It wasn’t all misery this weekend, I repressed, laughed, talked and engaged with people. I tried. It’s just that the bad obscured the good and here I am ending the day on a low note.

I am thankful for my mum and brother as well as certain people who came into my life when they did (as if someone sent them to me) without them I don’t even want to think what might have happened.

Vivid numbness

Feel like all that I am is hanging by a thread, I have been on a bingeing and purging rampage this past week and this is the part where I completely come undone.

The ones I care about are breaking and bending….

My brother, the one person I can count on definitely has a drinking problem. It’s no longer something we can deny or try to lessen it by saying he’s a 26 year old guy who loves to drink with his buddies, he goes to work drunk and comes back home buzzed and then starts heavily drinking again and I am so disappointed in him. We have our own vices, mine is bingeing and purging his is alcohol. My mum is the one who has to look on while her children get consumed by these relentless demons and she prays, fasts and hopes with her anointing oil and the all night prayers she attends but we are too far gone. Mum works crazy long hours, I can’t even get a job I feel like a burden, a parasite, this thing that she gave birth to that won’t stop sucking out the life out of her but lord knows I am trying to make something of myself, the intentions are there, the need but I can’t seem to find my way out of this blinding forest so I can march towards my destiny.

It’s just so sad the way we are crumbling and things just don’t work out for us, we are not just sitting and complaining and acting helpless but it’s always pouring and the doors just aren’t opening, we have been knocking for years. I can’t believe this, looking at pictures of my brother and I when we were young and recalling the few but happy childhood memories it feels my heart with this unbearable ache, I can’t even cry… what would I start crying about, there are just so many things. My brother and I have always been a team, there is just something special about the silent pact that siblings have the one where you’ll always have each other’s backs.

We are cemented in this existence, I am ashamed to say that I am ashamed of who have become.

Earning it.

“Are you really going to eat that? Have you earned it? Is there an extremely important reason you have to eat breakfast? You can just forgo it” Internal monologue.

There is the concept of earning your meal like going on long runs so at the end of the day you don’t have to worry about eating that slice of pie. For me to earn to eat a food item and it actually retain it my restriction prior to that should be immaculate and I won’t feel that guilty. Sometimes being hungry isn’t enough to make me earn my food. Am I feeling faint? No? Then no food or binge and purge everything, you don’t retain what you haven’t earned.

Tonight I feel like I have earned to eat something sustaining but I couldn’t. My family were making burgers and I really wanted one, I just wanted a plain burger with just the meat and a wholewheat roll but the thing is because you deny yourself from eating certain foods and you’re the one eating veggies and a grilled chicken breast while everyone is tucking into some delicious pizza or whatever at some point your family will stop asking if you would want say a burger, pizza etc.

I couldn’t just say hey I want a burger too because I was embarrassed. I have successfully maintained this whole “She doesn’t eat” façade. Who am I to put cracks on that façade and make people start paying real close attention to my eating habits… the whole thing would disintegrate. Hearing someone comment on my tiny portions irritates me but it’s such a boost at the same time because it’s confirmation I’m doing something “right”.

In hindsight I am glad I didn’t have that burger because right now I would be too full and just itching to purge. I haven’t been keeping most food down lately and I am not even ashamed to say that it feels like a huge accomplishment. I’ll eat ice-cream and keep it down, I have earned it.