Not crying over spilled milk

My recent status as a single Pringle has made me realize how the process of getting over someone could be applied to “getting over” depression and eating disorders.

It sounds like I’m trivializing doesn’t it? Of course, you can’t control mind disorders- if you could you wouldn’t have bothered with them in the first place, surely? And I am not an advocate of happy-crappy self-help advice (coming soon, to a ranty blog post near you), but I think I may be onto something here. Bear with me…  Continue reading “Not crying over spilled milk”

No sour grapes

To my many disorders,

This break up is not my fault it’s yours.

It’s actually not because I’m unloveable or because I got “too fat,” or because sometimes I need a little reminder to eat and some reassurance that I’m not offensive to look at. It’s not because of anything I’ve done, it’s all you. You took away yet another thing I loved.
Continue reading “No sour grapes”

I’ve been a bad egg

It’s no secret that I’m not my BFFL but boy have I reached new enemy heights in the last few months. My army of eating disorders have been driving the tank full throttle and it’s nothing short of a minefield. Whilst it’s slightly premature to declare a ceasefire, I think I should probably explain myself…

I’ve started posts. They’ve been beginnings of letters to myself, letters to my eating disorder, letters to past me, present me and future me, all of which try, with their abstract metaphors and attempts-at-being-witty analogies, to plead with me just one thing:

Don’t. Fucking. Binge.


Continue reading “I’ve been a bad egg”

Too many cooks *don’t always* spoil the broth

I’m the oldest and I’ve let you down. I should be sorted by now and successful and I’m not. I shouldn’t need looking after; I shouldn’t need this much attention when there are young members of family that do. I should know better.

Continue reading “Too many cooks *don’t always* spoil the broth”

Flatter than a pancake

Do you know what, I actually don’t want to die. I do want to live. But, I want to live “averagely.” I do want to feel but I want to feel some sort of normality- however wide the spectrum. I want to feel the variety of emotions, the peaks and the troughs of life, but not to an intensity that knocks me over.

Continue reading “Flatter than a pancake”

The chicken or the egg?

This originally started as an “anorexia recovery” blog but I’m coming to the realisation that it’s not as simple as that (as if anorexia on its own is ever “simple”).

No, if you were going to fuse together the “issues” in my head at the moment- what, with my relentless joy and zest for life (not), my desire to restrict, binge, purge, cry (rave) repeat- it would probably sound more like depres-orexi-mi-nge. Depresoreximinge. Depression, anorexia, bulimia, bingeing. Nice. Barrel of laughs, me.

But what came first..? Continue reading “The chicken or the egg?”