Endless rumination


It’s not so bad when I get out of the car to grab a rose and smell it and somehow find an ounce of peace in all this turmoil.

I really have been trying to keep myself together… to reign it in and I’m doing better than I expected. I’m going through extreme post-exam anxiety, I keep recalling things in my head and the questions and how I answered them. Just when I think I’m over it it hits me like a wave and I start googling and going over my notes…. giving myself heart attacks, calculating the minimum exam mark I need so I can pass etc etc, it’s been a nightmare and I feel stuck and painfully in waiting.

Last Monday after my exam I had an anxiety attack in the bus, hot flashes and everything it was a real major episode and it shocked me into silence, I could only keep it to myself because if I were to tell someone I would not know where to start.

I have to believe and tell myself it’s going to be okay, I reached out to a classmate of mine who did the same courses as me and she said she was going through something similar so I feel less alone but it doesn’t lessen the severity of the anxiety. I just want to pass.


The year is over

I am on the sofa, too pathetic… too lonely to go out and celebrate new years eve. It’s exactly 30 minutes before the year is officially over. I woke up in a state of sheer panic, like how much can you cram into one day before its all over. I am ready to see 2014 go but I needed at least 10 more days to mentally prepare myself it’s as though new years eve has been sprung on me.

I hear people talking about resolutions and how their hope is suddenly renewed towards the end of December, I honestly make it a point to enter the new year with no promises given nothing is in my hands at present, I’ve done all I can now I need to find that door I’m always talking about. I can’t help but feel that I am way past realignment, all the parts of me need a major overhaul.

Reflecting back on 2014 I tremble, I swam the darkest blue and I reached the very end of my rope and when I tried to tie a knot and hold on I realised the rope was around my neck. Depression knows no bounds, bipolar sneaks up on you always. I don’t know if I am tough as nails as I thought I was, I’m just simply swimming against the current unaware of my own strength or lack thereof.

Bulimia ran terror over all the aspects of my life especially the second half of this year. Nothing has changed but I have, I am more calmer when dealing with people who wrong me. I no longer see the point in wanting to have the last say or to be the one who attacks with words laced in venom so I can see them hurt, I don’t care about that anymore.

I am still sad, lord knows I am. My heart is heavy with burden and I can only drown my screams with silence hoping that soon something will happen, I have been standing at the train station waiting for an airplane all my life.. To what end?! This waiting, when does it stop and is it ever going to be enough… This determination is being put to waste.

I can never be a ray of sunshine, which is why I push people away. I can never stand in their light, ashamed of my darkness.


2015 looks like staring into an endless chasm in the sense that I have no clue what’s in store. One step at a time and steering away from the edges of cliffs. I will try to have the heart not to let this go.

It came and went

Christmas came and went and for the first time in years I was emotionally present, when I said merry Christmas I meant it and felt it unlike the previous years when it was something that just spilled out of my mouth without any sincerity attached to it.

Old habits die hard, my attempts to eat a plate of food in front of family was nothing short of pathetic but that’s alright. I of course binged and purged in private and binged some more on ice cream and pies, like I said old habits die hard. Despite of all that it has been a great couple of days, my heart was filled with warmth and that spirit of giving. I laughed, conversed and got out of the house, like some type of real person.

Tomorrow the studying resumes and I pray to God my knees won’t get weak and fail me when I am so close to the finish line. I have always been a slave to the finish line.

On embracing Christmas

Feeling better and better, the anxiety likes to creep up just when I think I’m doing okay but it’s manageable not like before when I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust.

This year I don’t mind Christmas, I wouldn’t go as far as saying I am looking forward to it but I’m not feeling like the Grinch or anything though that may be subject to change as I never know how I’ll feel about something later on because of mood swings.

My hate for Christmas wasn’t hating it for its own sake but for the fact that even though I tried to embrace it.. It would never fill my emptiness so what then would be the point in participating in something that would remind me of what I lack and what I am not, I would rather show my disdain towards it and spare myself whatever raw hedious emotion would be awakened.

Christmas in all honesty means anger because of all the meals you can’t enjoy, the stares from family members, the pain when they comment anything about your weight, being the center of attraction at meal times and your ED being the topic of discussion at some point, you picking at your food while aunt Loice comments something about your hips and all that and more ending with you in your room when it’s all over and you’re elbow deep in food feeding your empty and purging all night.

This year I feel like IT is possible whatever IT is, maybe laughter in front a fireplace sipping on coffee is possible without the underlying self doubt and worry that gnaws away at me always, maybe IT is a day out wearing a summer dress and not feeling like I need to hide myself because I would have found a new appreciation of the body that I have abused for over a decade but has never failed me even though I don’t deserve it or maybe IT is a wholesome meal shared with family and not an ounce of guilt creeping in. I never dare to be optimistic when it comes to my eating disorder because I just don’t see how I’ll get out though I want to.

Though most days I find myself hovering in the grey, I’ll sing along to jingle bells when I hear it in the mall or supermarket, the sky won’t break I’ll try to embrace IT but not too far I’ve done this hoping thing before and in my experience it was like poison in my bones in the way it turns into bitterness when you don’t get the ends you desired.

I pray this feeling will stay for a little while, I just have to find the control to stop bingeing and purging… so worn out but not as down and out as usual and to be honest I’ll take this feeling any day… could be worse, I know how dark it can get and just how much daylight can burn

Cliffs with edges

Tonight while viewing my blog page my eyes veered to the “tags” section of my previous posts and I got so scared. Is this my life? Binge, purge, suicidal thoughts, sadness, depression and other gut wrenching words. I for a moment could not believe it and I stepped outside of myself and viewed it as someone other than me and I saw just how sad, empty and dangerous my life is and how the behaviours I engage in are so serious and so very deeply entrenched it has become a way of life with the occasional futile effort to rectify my situation. I felt sorry for this fragmentary girl whose afflictions have become the author of who she is, I felt sorry for myself.

It’s not a question of who we are, it’s who we want to be but in this moment I am those tags- sad, angry, suicidal, depressed. I am that. It would be a tragedy for the downward spiral to keep spiraling up until that stage where I have that look in my eye, that look when you see someone walking down the street and you can tell their life story and in their eyes you can see them questioning “how did I get here”.

The reward for dancing on cliffs with edges is consequence. The unknown is always desirable but in this context, I’d rather not know more hurt especially the kind that is disguised as a new leaf or new avenues to be explored when it’s just another dead end.

I desperately want to grasp something that’s real.


I must say, I really appreciate sport in the way watching it can be such an escape though temporary, the high you when watching your team play is unlike any feeling you could ever feel. Tonight was one of those nights and it was amazing, during those few hours I don’t have an eating disorder, crippling depression and anxiety instead I am just a normal person watching sport and screaming at the tv, I am happy- the version of me that escapes me when those few hours are over and I have to snap back to reality.

I love to seek laughter, which is a normal trait but sometimes I seek it too much. Everything has to be funny we must keep laughing, say something funny, have we run out of funny things to talk about, let’s laugh forever perhaps it’ll shield us from the ever present sadness.. numb us and we will forever be oblivious to it. I have the ability to laugh at myself and to find humour in tragedy and I if ever lose that ability then I don’t know how I will be able to carry on. It’s either I am laughing about nonsense with a voice so loud or I am at the bottom of the blackest hole in silence-there is no in between.

I have been doing a great job at hiding just how down in the dumps I am but lately you can see it in my eyes. It takes you back, to see that sadness and brokenness in your own eyes and not knowing what will mend it. I am getting better, it’s like pulling teeth… the concept of hope, I envy those who have a little bit of it and I am shocked by those who have it in abundance.

The in-between

Some days are better than others and today was alright, it was a typical Saturday: restriction, watch sport, eat fruit and drink sprite zero. Yesterday was an epic fail stuffing my face with bread and peanut butter and eating coco pops straight from the box then washing them down with hot chocolate (who does that?), it was an uncontrollable feeding frenzy that ended up with me purging up to 5 times the whole day and as if I hadn’t filled myself with more guilt than one could bear I later stuffed my face with chocolate chip cookies and chocolate while watching films in bed, promising myself that when the clock struck 12 midnight I would restrict like no other.

It’s just after midnight and technically it’s Sunday, I am ravenous  & I don’t think I can restrict any longer, I have a migraine and my feet hurt this is pms I’m sure of it, I swear I feel as though I have my cycle every 2 weeks or something. My cycle is messed up, with each relapse with anorexia when my period would go away every time it came back it was a totally different experience, now I get horrible horrible menstrual cramps, it’s a lot heavier, erratic & it’s worrying. I lost my period during what I think are the “most important stages of body  development” 12-15 then 17-19 & who knows how much damage was done. This is just one example of the effects of an ED, my body will never be the same but I don’t get to cry about it because it’s already done what I can do is to prevent further damage by not perpetuating the same habits, the tools to do that are already in place but just because they are there doesn’t mean recovery is a done deal.

There is sea of eating disorder recovery stories out there but one that touched me the most is the story of Shaye boddington
I have been following Shaye’s stories/tips of life after recovery and frequent her website a lot, it has recovery tools and people share their ED stories. Her story grabbed my attention because Shaye was a bulimic for a decade and somehow she managed to recover. Like me she had worries that maybe her ED had ruined her body to the point of not being able to have children but years after recovery after having that fear of infertility marinate in her mind for years she now is actually expecting, I have never met this woman but I am so happy for her, it gave me hope and made me worry less. It gave me bucketfulls of hope, nothing is impossible if you really think about it & force yourself to accept it.

When reading recovery stories it all seems like a myth, my reaction towards recovery is always absolute cynicism. I have never known normal eating, I ate too much as child then when I became conscious of my size  I started to eat nothing and the eating disorder(s) came to be, I have never known the in-between state. I have to actually learn not relearn & you know what they say about teaching an old dog new tricks.