I was overcoming this, on the mountain top waving the conquer flag… Urgh. Rephrase.

I was overcoming this, waving my flag as I climb the mountain with an occasional stumble.

There, that’s better. Perfec…..


Deep breath.

After a solid time in recovery, life is becoming fruitful in the ways I had missing. I am noticing now tho, my perfectionism creeping back in.

I started feeding it in my work. It was fulfilling and at the beginning I didn’t see the harm. This was my project that I could control. My family can’t wreck this. It’s all mine I mistakenly thought.

We have moved house and it’s temporary but I am not happy here. There a few things that are messing with my body and my head. So to manage my frustration and anxiety with how things are, and with my body off limits, I delight in my work.

Perfectionism can be so rewarding until its inevitable wall smash.

I cannot have control over my work. There are too many other people at play. Hundreds of them actually. My children also interfere. By delaying my start time with an hour long hypochondria stint making me late for work. Or perhaps the discipline applied which results in school refusal. The stress has risen to breaking point.

I am doing a fabulous job dealing at acute times, using strategies to bring my anxiety down a little. Time takes its toll and this level of stress is not sustainable.

Making sure I take time to remind myself of the meaningful things in life is imperative. Taking time to express myself and emotions is critical. Writing, singing, advocating. If it gets bottled inside I will implode.

Even though my head is shouting toxic thoughts about myself and jumping on my self esteem I will reach out. I will go and have coffee with a friend. Even when my head is saying I am not likable. That people don’t want me as a friend. That people see me as weak. That I am fat. That I need to lose weight, to cut, to harm myself in some way to justify my existence. Even though I face this I will continue to face my fears and live with them. I will adjust my chameleon suit for another day.

A reminder: You work to live, not live to work.


Shared musings 

I want my feelings to spill on the pavement.
Out of me.
The shame inside is too much.

I need to get rid of this shame but keep from exposing this to anyone else.

The urge to secretly let it spill where no one can see is a convincing thought. Let out the poison.
Yes, dump it; so no one knows, just how deep the ‘you don’t want me’ goes. 


Do you know what it’s like walking through life, picking up the guilty pieces and fitting them over the self hatred to impersonate confident brilliance?  

I am slipping. I can feel it. I am scared. 

The drinking has increased. I’m drinking on my own to numb. To get through. To cope. And the dink of choice is now always preferred on the rocks. Straight spirits. Fck soda and empty calories. The sole purpose is to calm. To separate me. 

My husband has noticed, and indicated his concern…. And then played the PlayStation. But now his concern has been stated, I feel the need to hide it. Or get help. I don’t know. 

I feel guilty because I did a radio interview on recovery a few weeks ago. Inspiring people to remove stigma and get help if needed. Now I feel like a fraud. I badly want to self harm, and I’m dealing with life by drinking. 

Not sure how this night will end. How will this guilt play out? 

Holiday heartbreak 

1st day of my holidays; eating pizza and chocolate for breakfast. 


Now I feel sick. I was looking for comfort, I forgot that holidays does this to me. Sudden slump. As a teacher I’m sure I’m not alone that your mantra becomes one of “keeping it together till the holidays”. 

So now I face the demon. The thoughts creep in about shame, purging, compensating exercise. I need to do something to fix this so I can start again. 

The battle is on: No, I don’t want to purge. I want to be healthy. But this isn’t healthy. I feel so awful. So big. I need to make myself smaller. My face is all patchy. I have to do something about this. 

Recovery wins: I just need to get through these first moments. I’ll address this a bit later when I’m not so distressed. 

The action: have a shower, wash my hair, brush my teeth. 

Feeling a little better, I notice some nice aroma in my room, coming from an essential oil. It reminds me I’ve been turning to food and alcohol lately more and more to deal with my emotions relying on the sense of taste to numb or calm. Where did my other strategies go? The other senses? Time to increase the music to my ears and essential oils to my nose. 

The distress has lessened now. I can deal with recovery more wisely in this frame of mind. 

Goodbye flashlight, the lights are on. 

Hello again to the bloggers I have connected with in the past. I did miss you but I guess I needed some privacy in my recovery. 

Today was my last official therapy appt. I do not have an eating disorder anymore. I am still recovering. In fact, I may always be in small ways.

It’s ironic that today I ‘feel fat’ (no such thing). But I am aware of the thought and I have dealt with it wisely. 

I am trying to write my therapist a thank you card but it’s not going as well as I would like. I want it to perfectly express gratitude yet the enormity of what I want to say and how I feel are too big for a little card.  I have sat and read back through years of blog posts and thinking of journal entries I have written. I come to terms that the emotions are still here. The bad days are still here, but I am healthy enough to wisely deal with them. Like now. I wanted some quiet. I was feeling a conflict of anxious and up. I wanted to find solitude to write. I avoided Max brenner. The chocolate restaurant is Prob not a wise choice now. So I enter the coffee club. Ice coffee and pancakes deluxe. They didn’t even taste nice. Which made me angry. I wasted my money and calories  on this. For the first time in a while I not only thought about purging but the urge got high. I wanted to purge out the waste and the anger. I know how to deal with this tho. And I don’t want to go back to the hell I was in. What I have now I don’t want to lose. Distract. Accept. Let the emotion be. It’s allowed to be. This is my humanity. 

I may go home and smash my scale. It does not measure anything important in life. 

I’m guessing I’ll be writing more recovery focused posts now. 

Talk soon xo

Deeper and deeper

Internal turmoil as I play the wretched tug of war between wanting recovery and wanting the ED.
Due to life circumstances I cannot focus on recovery right now. A couple more weeks and my life will free up for that, but for now it remains at one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, as I sink deeper and deeper.
The weight loss is so reaffirming and comforting, yet it just maintains the ED because I then fear putting it back on.
I feel helpless while I wait for new treatment to begin.

The telltale sign of going MIA on your blog

I’ve been in blog hiding. Avoiding. I mean, what can I articulate when I’m not even sure?

When I’m blog hiding I’ve put it down to 2ish possible reasons.
1) I’m flat out busy living without the immediate cathartic need to blog
2) I’m engaging more in disordered behaviours and feel like I cannot bring positivity to the blogging world

I thought it was 1) for a while. I filled up my life (yet again, when will I learn?) with new and current commitments. Filled it to the brim. Over spilling but I was surfing on top. I got this. I’m achieving. I’m loosing weight. But I’m oh so healthy. I’m doing this the right way!! It’s even curing my eating disorder. I was going so well. Until I wasn’t.
Here’s the thing with eating disorders. You think you have them nailed and then one day you turn around and the nails have fallen out.
The last week has reminded me that I may be at 2). Today it has accumulated into the constant surveillance. Some behaviours seem too hard to resist. Mood is low and fearful. Conflict and war in my head.
Agony resides but I’m letting it be. Laying down my hammer for today. I’m too tired to work.