Monday, 29 August 2011

5 letters

My official college certificates arrived earlier this week.  Thus far the only indication of my attainment had been the breakdown of results which were in that little white envelope on the day of my graduation.  But now I am the proud owner of a three page certificate, printed on lovely, thick paper.  A tangible record of my achievements this past year.  I did it against all the odds; whilst fighting to recover from a bastard of an eating disorder.

It may seem big headed of me, but I did sort of assume I was going to do well.  I've always been an over achiever, something which I am proud of, and whilst some YouTube people take offence to it, I shall never apologise for reaching my potential.  Nevertheless, the idea that I could get a straight distinction profile was one which I never really entertained.  The only thing I have ever failed at in my life was my Performing Arts BTEC... okay, so merit, (or B), grades might be okay for some, but for me it was a serious let down.  It knocked my confidence.  I didn't expect much more than that to be honest, and my tutors at the time did say I would have done so much better had it not been for an untimely relapse into my disordered ways, and the onset of the worst period of my anorexia thus far.  That was the time I was actually diagnosed - years before this had been happening, and yet never a diagnosis, just a disrupted education.  I suppose I must have been "sick enough" that time.

Anyway, I'm immensely happy with the first two pages of my certificate.  The first has the fancy writing, and a signature from someone official.  The second a breakdown of the modules and grades: distinction, distinction, distinction, distinction and so on.  Oh, but then the third page... I can't help it... it's the perfectionist within, but every time I see it:  distinction, distinction, distinction, distinction, MERIT, distinction, distinction ect. 

That one bloody merit.  5 letters have ruined it for me.  I must stress that am in no way belittling other people who achieve merits, if that's your target and you hit it then be proud of yourself!  But for me... I could have had straight distinctions, and that really kills.

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

Anorexic and miserable

Even though the overriding tone of this post is pro-recovery, I suppose this may trigger some.  As always I will point out that trigger warnings are pointless because everyone is triggered by different things.  However this post is in keeping with the general tone of my blog: pro-recovery. 

Yesterday I sort of half decided that I need to lose weight for uni in September.  Ridiculously I often come to this conclusion:  birthday party - must lose weight.  Holiday - must lose weight.  Bikini wax - must lose weight.

There it is again, that feeling of not being good enough, and somehow my self esteem and self worth has become intrinsically linked to my weight...or what I think is my weight.

In the past few weeks when my dad was home I lost some weight.  I don't know how much exactly, and truth be told I prefer not knowing.  Whilst keeping myself in the dark does stop me from being triggered into more weight loss, without the scales I never really notice my body changing until it becomes starkly obvious.  It seems I can lose weight without even trying for the simple reason that if I fail to hit my 1200kcal target I won't maintain.  Last November I got to around a size zero before I even noticed something was wrong.

I doubt in the last two weeks I've had to regain my usual eating pattern that I've even gained up to the point where I was a month ago, but even so I feel a bit tubby.  There have been binges of course.  It's to be expected after 3 weeks of a totally disrupted eating schedule, and I did go a bit crazy.

I feel that people at university might like me more if I'm skinnier.  Fuck, that's mental isn't it?  I can't even explain why I feel this need to lose.  It just seems natural to me, and fighting it seems so wrong.

I will fight it though.  I have enough clarity in my own mind these days to see that I don't need to lose weight, and people are not going to endear themselves to the girl rocking the skeletor look as readily as they would a happy, healthy girl after all.

Healthy and happy is definitely better than anorexic and miserable.

Sunday, 21 August 2011

Haribo

I told my mum I hadn't eaten yet, so she went out to buy me one of the ham sandwiches I like from Tesco.  Whilst she's been gone I ate 7 pieces of Haribo and now I feel guilty as hell.


Bloody hell eating disorder.

Monday, 15 August 2011

Pathetic fallacy

When I first started making videos on YouTube I told myself that I would not allow my channel to become mordlin.  I suppose it makes sense then that this blog should never become drowned in self pity.  I persevere; trying to write about the good, and when I must write about that bad, try and tinge it with some sort of optimism.

Optimism.  It's hard to come by some days.  Occasionally I feel really lonely, not often as I used to, but it's that same feeling, and it's truly terrifying.  I'm not sure what it is or what triggers it.  This morning I felt relatively upbeat: aside from having to wake up early to get to Tesco before the mid-morning rush, everything seemed lovely.  It was sunny and I put on a pink summery dress to celebrate, sunglasses too.  This evening, however, that cerulean expanse has clouded over rendering my summer attire superflous.

Pathetic fallacy is what you would call it.

I felt empty like this before 40 minutes ago, but at 8 o'clock I called a friend, and they didn't answer.  Even though I am sure they must have their phone on silent or just be busy doing something it makes me feel so rejected, stupid for trying and bothering them.  I just wanted to talk to someone.  Not to bring them down into this stupor with me, but to talk, ask about their day and as a result have mine miraculously brightened.  I know I have many offers of a simple chat from my subscribers, but I know very few of them well enough to open up like that, and none of them know the real me at all.  They don't know how to trigger a smile from me when seconds before I had been in waves of tears.

I need that now.  I can't call again though.

I'll go to bed; if I'm asleep I can't feel.  It's one of my old tactics, one which I should not revisit, but I don't know what else I could do...except call.


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