I’d like to say that i have totally recovered from my life-long anorexia, and yes, to a certain extent, i have, but it never quite goes away altogether. I still have the anorexic voice in my head, day in day out.


I don’t look painfully thin although i am slim and it’s a constant battle to keep that voice at bay. It ebbs and flows but the tide never actually goes out. i’ve been dangerously underweight and in treatment more than once and i can honestly say that i don’t want to go back there again. I just wish the nagging voice would stop.


I watch, like a hawk, everything i eat. I know the calorific value of everything i put into my mouth. I mentally count the calories i’ve consumed. I always buy the lowest fat, lowest calorie food product of each type; milk, yoghurts, ready meals, fruit and vegetables even. I don’t eat anything ‘nice’. “I’m not allowed it, i don’t deserve it, i’ll lose control”, says the voice.


I don’t allow myself potatoes, bread, crackers, pasta, rice, sweets, cake, biscuits, etc and definitely no chocolate! Stupid, i know. We all need carbohydrates for energy (no wonder i’m alway so tired). I dread eating out and will starve myself all day if i know i have to go out for a ‘sociable’ meal.


I still binge sometimes, when i’m really hungry, and then i make myself pay for it by hardly eating the next day. I used to misuse laxatives every day to ‘get rid’ of the food i’d eaten but i no longer do that although after a life-time of doing so, my digestive system has never recovered and i have to take non-addictive, prescription medicine, daily, to be able to ‘go‘ at all and i’ll weigh myself at least three times a day but i’m not anorexic!


(Mischa-Barton photo)

I don’t look obviously anorexic and although my few friends i have left, say that i look ‘drawn’, i don’t agree with them. I think i’m still too fat. What a bloody, useless, fucking  failure of an anorexic, i am. I don’t recommend that anyone starts the perilous journey to this never-ending road. It hurts and it’s agony and you’re never free of it. ‘I am dying to be thin’. And anorexia does bite back.













I woke this morning, having slept reasonably well. I could instantly feel a black cloud of depression engulfing my head. ‘The Black Dog’, Churchill called it.


I have no particular reason to feel especially down today. That’s BPD for you; no rhyme nor reason…I could be full of the joys of Spring in an hour or two! Who knows?


Yes, I know the sun is shining and with some warmth in it today, and i know that the cherry trees are full of pink blossom. I just cannot see that right now, in my darkness and gloom.


I should have gone to church this morning but i chose not to. Attending would probably had been the wisest decision as i would have, at least, felt spiritually lifted and seen some human faces too. I am blessed to have carers coming in three times a day but today, i wanted to stay in bed, unkempt and in my PJs, curled up with my own misery. But as my carers had to make the effort to get here first thing in the morning, the least i could do was to be obliging and cooperate. So, washed and dressed it was. I didn’t want breakfast. Well, actually, i did but the ‘anorexic self-harm fairy’ kicked up a stink and had a hissy-fit and wouldn’t allow me any. So now i am hungry and it’s entirely my own fault! And do i feel good for it? No, i am even denied the satisfaction of that! 


Misery loves company‘, they say! Anyone care to join me?! No? Thought not and i don’t blame you in the least. I should get up off my butt and go smell the roses but that requires too much effort! So, I will sit here and be a martyr!!


See?! Now i’ve cheered myself up, getting that lot off my chest and remembering how many caring buddies i have out there in the blogging world…thanks for being there, my friends xxx 🙂