Tomorrow might be good, or something?

I feel really sad and I keep crying. I hate crying because I feel so weak and vulnerable and it's horrible. I'm tired of my brother making me feel bad about myself. I love him always but he is such a shit brother. Isn't an older brother supposed to look out for his little sister? Isn't he meant to get bullies to leave her alone, instead of ignoring her and waiting for one of his friends to stop it. Isn't he supposed to be there for her?

I wish we had the perfect family picture everyone presumes we are.

The sunlight hurts my eyes

I got back from Reading Festival today, and it's safe to say it has been the most mental and memorable weekend of my life. My body is aching everywhere, but the reasons behind this are enough to make me smile and be thankful. We got there on Wednesday and set up our camp. It was my first night meeting everyone besides Marianne, and it was less awkward than I expected. We then went to Tesco, bought a lot of alcohol and set up a fire, drinking around the fire. I wasn't really drunk Wednesday night, but ended up in my tent with Marianne, and we had Nathaniel and Chris between us. I can't remember how that happened but I was dressed as a penguin so it was all innocent. I woke up first out of us on Thursday morning and sang at everyone to wake up. Nathaniel wouldn't wake up so I put gold body glitter all over him, then ran out the tent so he couldn't beat me up. Thursday was pretty much spent on our little camp site, making friends with the neighbors and drinking. We discovered we had drug dealing neighbors at about 7pm, when one of them (he was so attractive) came and plonked himself in the middle of Nathaniel and Harry. He turned around and asked "So, does anyone want to buy any MD? Acid? Bud? Shrooms? Ket?" and just walked off after we all looked at him in shock. Then a random girl on MD came and sat with us and she looked so ill, she was biting her mouth to shreds so I rolled her about ten cigarettes to keep her occupied from doing it. I felt so bad for her but she was so gone. It was rather cold and she was in hot pants and a crop top, which probably worsened the situation. The rest of the weekend was spent drinking, being chased around the camp by Harry and him pouring Fosters/Radox Soap/Moisturiser and anything else he could find over me for bantering him. Me and Marianne dance with some 40 year old men at the Cure and I cried to Dan during Friday I'm In Love. Dan also picked me out of a moshpit in Hadouken as I seriously injured my foot. I had to spend Friday afternoon at the camp site to rest it up whilst Ray, Ollie and Nathan sat there talking about sex, and going for poo's. It was kind of cringey but I joined in when they began to talk about gym, as I'm inevitably the expert (sarcasm)

I can't really fault the weekend, despite the toilets. They were like Chernobyl. And the fact that some people chose to go to The Maccabees over The Cure? I love the Maccabees and everything, but you can see them whenever they tour. The Cure haven't toured in so long, and will probably not tour again. They're also one of the most iconic bands in history, its kind of like choosing Cher Lloyd over Nirvana. Also, I did struggle with the eating side of it, and ended up loosing a large amount of weight which gives me some mixed feelings. I'm trying to be positive and pass it off as a glitch in the road, but a part of me feels it was inevitable that given the circumstances and the freedom I had, I just wouldn't eat. I don't know. The weekend was amazing and it feels so weird being in my bed, and not in Dans tent with him snoring in my ear, and hearing people outside shout "ALAN?" "STEVE?" "JESUS CHRIST BENTON". 

At my nannas

I love being at my nannas, but it's so stressful how she forces me to eat. I can barely manage at the moment, I don't need you reminding me of how shit I am okay

Fuck forever

It's getting quite frustrating with my Dad telling me if I don't beat my eating disorder he'll never let me go to University, and will have me sectioned. Thanks Dad, you're a star. (not) I really did not wake up one day and decide it would be fun to have a crippling phobia of food and control. 

Health

It's really annoying but lately, I keep fainting and feeling really nauseous and I'm getting pretty worried as I'm unintentionally loosing weight. Has this happened to anyone before?

"Mental Illness Problems"

I found this really interesting tumblr site, called Mental Illness Problems and in a weird way, I found it comforting that other people shared the same kind of little problems that relate to their illness. I decided I'll post a couple that I personally can really relate too, but please comment any ones you have also. I love reading things like this because it takes the loneliness away.

Can anybody hear me?

I really hate living at home at the moment. I'm really tempted to go stay at my Nan's for a few days, just to get away.


Yesterday, I asked my Dad if my brothers girlfriend could not be invited to MY 17th birthday celebrations with the family (which I don't even want to happen due to the fact it'll all be based around fucking food) and he started having ago at me, saying I did it to be spiteful, I was being a bitch because they've been together for two years so she's basically family etc. Whilst I can understand where he's coming from, he didn't even give me a chance to explain my point, or even state how I don't want to have a family celebration. Right now, I'm really not in a good way when it comes to eating, and everyone at home knows that. Yet they still go and put all this pressure on me. I know I'm not an angel child, but at least try and fucking support me instead of treat me like shit. 


Now today at dinner, I had my usual salad whilst everyone else eats roast, (I don't eat potato or beef) and for the first few minutes, I was just looking at what's on my place, panicking a little (my brothers girlfriend was here too) and then my mum just decides to turn around and snap "Just fucking eat it or put it in the bin, stop pissing around." in the most rude and humiliating way possible. So after sitting for another few minutes, near enough in tears, I've just decided to go and put it in the fridge and go upstairs to get out of everyones way.


I can't even begin to explain how suicidal I've been feeling lately, and I know I don't really open up to people but it'd be nice if at least someone in this fucking family would listen to me. I'm pretty much on the verge of doing something right now because I'm so angry and I'm trying to distract myself. I just want to scream. I'm sorry I'm not good enough but I never wanted this, so stop fucking acting like I do.

Complications of the Mind.

As much of a vague and bold statement this is, a part of me hates anybody without an eating disorder or crippling depression. It's not like I hate the person for it, because it's not their fault.. I mean, why would you want to have any of it? But I hate the fact that they don't realize how easy it is for them in terms of eating and mind state. 


Say, if I sit for a family dinner and my brother brings his girlfriend, all I can see is them being able to eat a full meal without any sign of struggle or distress. On Sundays, as a family (and his girlfriend), we normally have a Sunday Roast together. However, because of my problems with food, I refuse to eat potato, so every Sunday I have a plain garden salad. It physically makes me angry that they can sit there and eat a full roast dinner, and dessert and calorie-filled drinks whilst I'm near enough in tears over consuming a leaf of lettuce.


I don't even know why I'm blogging this, I went downstairs to get some hayfever relief pills and I saw my brother and his girlfriend out on the garden with a picnic of cakes, sandwiches and just scoffing it down without a thought. I don't know, I don't know why it makes me so angry. It makes me not want to be around them. I always find myself pulling away from my family because of the pure fact that they're able to eat without distress and I can't. Posting this has even got me into tears of anger, I just uh.. I wish things were different and I wish I wasn't ill. 

I miss missing you, sometimes.

I can't even begin to explain my emotions over the past couple of days. I have this way of, when in public, I act like I don't care about anything, and that I'm measurably happy. But when I get home and I'm finally alone with my thoughts, I feel so low and angry. I'm angry at myself for not fighting for you and I'm angry at myself for not fighting with this illness. I miss everything about you but I couldn't imagine being with you now after all of this. At the moment, all I want to do is cry and starve and just torment myself, but I know that I need to act like I'm okay and reassure people I am. I need time just for me, myself and I. 

Routines, Eating Disorder and Parental Interruption.

I'm aware this blog post sounds like one of those "Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging" books, and as much as I wish it was on the same level of wit and humour, this isn't. 


As with pretty much most eating disorder sufferers, I have a routine that prepares me to be able to eat and, I guess to de-stress me from how stressful it is. With the past few weeks being incredibly stressful for me and resulting in a bit of a weight loss (Mixed emotions, am I meant to be sad about it?), pretty much everyone in on "my little secret" knows that before they ask me to eat, or before I eat, I go through a routine of my own meditation. As sad as it sounds, I have to watch television before and whilst eating, otherwise it makes me entirely focus upon the fact that I'm eating. For me, it's the only way that it's possible for me to eat at home, because otherwise I find it easier to just starve. 


Tonight, my Mum and Dad went out food shopping, so I set up a "camp" in the living room - it's never normally in use so it's no disruption to other people anyway, as my dad is always playing computer games and my Mum is always working or in bed. They came back after two or three hours, so I'd settled into my routine and was feeling a bit more relaxed about the idea of eating. After them asking me to walk the dog, I went out and took him on a really long walk and got back to them being in the living room, eating their dinner and watching some shit television show. For me, this just felt like they were screaming "You're fat, we don't want you to eat so just go sit in your room and starve". Although they might not have been, in the mind state of an eating disorder you discover you can take pretty much any statement and find a connotation of your self worth being put into question.


So now I'm in my bedroom, pretty much crying because now I can't eat. It's not that I wanted to eat, because food is just repulsing to me at the moment, but I know that I need to to beat this disease, yet I can't do it in a way that makes me comfortable because I've been put out of my routine. I don't even know why I'm writing this post, I guess I just wanted to know if other people have the same dilemmas, and how to resolve them. Just so stressed out now :/

Everything burns

I've come under this habit of doing a blog post with the title of a song, that feels like it relates to what I'll be blogging about. The title to this post is Ben Moody ft Anastacia - Everything Burns. I think the most relative lyric from this is "Wrapped in all of the promises, That no one seems to keep. She no longer cries to herself, No tears left to wash away. Just diaries of empty pages, Feelings gone astray" Don't ask me why, but this seems oh so relevant to life right now. 


Anyway, I guess today has been one of the toughest days in a long time for me. Well, to be precise, the past few days. After a lovely night on Saturday with Nathan, I came home Sunday, took a nap. When I woke up, to my dismay, my period had come back. After a long time of not menstruating, it's relatively understandable at the emotions I felt. I was diagnosed and told by doctor that I'll be unable to menstruate again or have children due to the damage my eating disorder has had on my love-making organs. Whilst this was upsetting news for everyone, I can't honestly say I care. I guess it proved to me that my eating disorder was real, the fact I was too ill to do such a simple task that every women could. 

Getting my period back also caused alarm.. "Why was it back? Had I gained weight? Is my BMI healthy? Can I get pregnant now? Ew, is period blood really that disgusting? Owh, what the fuck is this cramp?" To be precise. But I guess it's made me feel like complete and utter shit, because it makes me feel like I'm loosing my eating disorder. For so long, it's been my identity, and in a way, my shell. I'd block out the world, because I was happy in my illness. I guess now it feels like I shouldn't have an issue with food, because I'm at a healthy weight again.

Also, things with Nathan have been tough. He recently revealed that things had changed between us, that he didn't really enjoy spending time with me at the moment, and he didn't want to fuck things up between us. It terrifies me to loose him if I'm honest. I really, honestly like him so much. This feels like the first time I've ever had someone who doesn't just want to fuck me and leave me. I'm so scared for him to actually leave now because I know I'll never find that again. I'm just a mentally ill slut. 

Sometimes it feels like I'm never going to beat this disease. By this disease, I'm not solely concentrating upon my eating disorder. I'm classing it all together; my depression, my anxiety issues, my trust issues and my eating issues. All of this is one colossal disease, set out to destroy my life, yet implicated by no other but me. I see others surrounding me on the verge of the destructive path that is, an eating disorder, and all I want to do is yell out and scream, to be "The Catcher in the Rye" that Holden Caulfield wants to be for the children in J D Salingers novel. Except, I'm not longing to protect them from growing up - as that's inevitable, I want to protect them from the self-hatred and self-torture this illness brings upon us. 

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell.

It's really horrible when you bump into your ex boyfriend at the gym. It's even more horrible when it's him that worsened the issue with food and worsened any other problem. The fact you can stand and smile when you tore my world apart two years ago. Dickhead.

25th June 2012

Today has been a tough day. It's one of those days that started off well, seeming to be a positive and motivating day towards recovery yet towards the end, stumbles down into the depths of despair and loneliness. I woke h up, went to school and had a really inspiring and endearing English Literature lesson, which gave me some form of positiveness. After this I got the bus home, (with some weird man reading over my shoulder the whole time) and walked through town. I went into Subway and went to place my order, but I couldn't really bring myself to it. It probably seems odd to anyone outside of the eating disorder world, but even asking for food can be such a terrifying experience. I tried to subtly walk out of Subway, which ended up in a bit of a cry on my walk home. After this, I went to Nathan's, which definitely perked up the day. After some cuddling, rough sex and talking, he drove me to work and kissed me goodbye. I got into work and two of my favorite life guards were on duty which was a positive. After lovely conversations with them, they day speedily crippled. The management made some snide comments about me being ill the past weekend and being generally stressed, then the duty manager took half hour to cash up my till, which made me late for ballet. I arrived at ballet and just broke down in tears so my mum drove me home. And now I'm here. And Nathan's asking me to go on a walk with him but it's so much effort to wipe these mascara stains from my face when all I want to do is cry a river. I wish this disease didn't exist.

My favorite Post Secrets

Ana/Mia

Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Will you be there as I fall?
Or will you turn your back on me,
Completely broken for all to see.
It's like screaming in a crowded street,
With no-one left to hear,
Waking up and realizing,
That you're drowning in your fear.
Fear is but a metaphor,
For all the things inside your mind,
Yet it never fails to reminisce,
The things you left behind.
Holding conversations with the mirror, 
Failing yet again.
Ana talks and Mia listens, 
But they're my only friends.
Fingers sinking down my throat,
For the third time today.
Was there life before this monster?
That I'm too scared to disobey.
What would people say,
If they could read my mind?
Would they feel some sorrow,
Or would they run and hide?
Would they be filled with disgust,
Repulsed at what I do?
The thought of such behavior,
Every hour or every two?
I'm still not broken yet,
So please don't try to fix me.
I can't loose my friends just yet,
So please, just leave me be.

Life with an Eating Disorder

I don't think anyone outside of the Eating Disorder community can fully comprehend the extent to which an eating disorder dominates your life. It's commonly a perceived idea that a teenage girl suffering with either Anorexia, Bulimia or any other difficulty with food is either;


a) Attention Seeking
b) Just wants to be skinny to look like Victoria Beckham


Honestly, I can't vouch for everyone else but for me it's certainly not either. I personally suffer with a body dysmorphia problem as well as an eating problem, which means for me, I don't see what everyone else see's in the mirror to such an extent that I do drastic things to change it. For me, I can't remember a time in my life in which I had a healthy relationship with food and myself. As a highly sensitive young girl, I think I just naturally sheltered myself away from others due to such a large fear of getting hurt, which led to severe trust issues. Because I've never been able to control the trust problems I have, I think that I just took that out on stopping eating and purging.


I have such a strong memory of when I think my eating disorder began. I was 6 years old, a dark-skinned little Italian looking girl in a primary school full of porcelain-colored china doll girls and realized how inadequate I felt. I guess a way to control this feeling was by not eating. Anyway, one day at dinner, I refused to eat what my mum had prepared, and was sitting on the stairs crying because I thought I was fat. My Dad, being the person that he is, came up to me (after shouting for a good half hour... typical) and showed me a magazine article of a young anorexic girl who ate one slice of toast during a week, who had recently passed away. He told me I'd end up like her if I continued the way I was going, that I was pathetic and over-sensitive and needed to toughen up.


I could never complain about my childhood, but it physically hurts me that with each memory I hold, my fear of food and lack of control dominates each and every one of them. A trip down memory lane for me is a pro-ana websites dream. I wish my childhood wasn't wasted upon these mental illnesses I suffer with, and I would do anything to be healthy, even for a day. If I could speak to the five year old me, I'd tell her she's beautiful just the way she is, and just because she looked different to the other girls, it doesn't mean it's a bad thing or that she's any less than enough then they are.