I need to binge. I want to binge. I'm going to binge ... says Mia ... Why? ... whispers Reason ... Why? We do this every day. It's just the way we are ... says Mia ... It's a bad idea ... whispers Reason ... Bad idea? Fuck off. Just shut up and do it. Get it over [...]
Sometimes I worry that the reason I struggle with recovery, is I don't want to recover. And sometimes I worry that the reason I don't want to recover, is people will stop being nice to me. When you grow in an emotionally sterile environment, you grow craving love, affection and nurturing. You can then find [...]
Today I awoke to the sight of little brown furry ears resting on my pillow, peering out the window at the rising sun and the clear blue autumn skies. The day held so much hope. Hope can be deceiving. It matters not how, or why, I ended up in a cycle of soul destroying binging and [...]
I have a body. As I said once before, it has served me faithfully all my years. I have been blessed with strong bones, good teeth, a great immune system and most excellent health. I am indeed extremely fortunate. I was not however, blessed with any confidence in this body. Nature, nurture and the environments in [...]
I am a prisoner in a cell of my own making. Each morning, I stand upon the Scales of Justice to determine if today will be the day, that I set myself free. I cannot bear the thought of not knowing my weight. I cannot bear the thought of knowing my weight. No matter the number, [...]
I've been triggered. My bulimic behaviours are regressing. This is both good and bad. Bad, because I've fallen deep into the well of binging and purging, and even slipped into self-harm hell. Good, because the trigger has been the anticipation of me commencing a course I have a really good feeling about. I sometimes feel [...]
"Are you on a diet?" I was 22 years old. I was not on a diet. I was not overweight. Yet... It was Christmas Day and I was away from my family. Invited to a friend's house for the day, I met a lovely Japanese couple. His English wasn't the greatest and when I said I didn't eat meat, he asked if I was on a diet. It was an innocent question - and his wife quickly jumped in to clarify. He was asking if I had dietary restrictions. I did. I was vegetarian. Within a year I was also bulimic.
The pendulum swings. How awesome would it be if life were linear? We could figure stuff out then travel on the path of success with nary a backward glance. Wouldn't that be lovely?! Alas - today that is not the case.
Food tastes like failure. I don’t savour beautiful textures and flavours. I never mindfully and sensuously nibble delicacies, inhaling aromas and luxuriating in the tantalising sensations on my tastebuds. When I eat, I scoff food down like a starving woman fighting a horde of ravenous dogs, scratching around for the last morsel on a carcass. Washed down with guilt and loathing and fear, and an overwhelming sense of failure – I’ve done it again. I’ve eaten food I didn’t want, in a manner I didn’t like. I’ve failed myself. Food tastes like failure. Day in and day out – I eat failure or I don’t eat at all. And that failure is an emotion so powerful it’s almost tangible – I could reach out and touch it. Food tastes like failure and failure is a feeling. But that’s a lie.
Anyone who has never experienced mental health issues, probably finds this to be a staggering question – why wouldn’t you want to recover?! Who would want to stay “sick”? Well – I am struggling to heal – and I don’t want to stay sick – but I also can’t seem to recover. Don’t worry – it makes no sense to me either!