A world of Lions and Zebras

Do you think the most ferociously proud lion cub ever wishes it could just be a zebra? 

I promise I'll get to the point here, but my therapist said something to me this week which has stuck in my thoughts. (I digress, but it's been impacted more this morning by catching up on 'Brainwashing Stacey' - with Big Game Trophy Hunters on BBC3!) and is something that might do me well to put into action, thought wise, not hunting, obviously.

I've always beaten myself up for not being one of 'the crowd'. Whatever that crowd maybe. Way back growing up, I've always been a little different, worried about things other people didn't worry about. 

Proud of things and passionate about things that no one else cared for. Half due to the panic attacks and my mental health - but half because I am me. This ALWAYS bothered me. I have spent 31 years beating myself up about being the 'one that spoke up' or the friend who 'fell out with people she disagreed with' or the teenager that didn't want to get paralytic and throw up. I always thought I was wrong. That I have always been the odd one out and that meant I was wrong.

Even with regards to anorexia, I know there is no 'stereotypical' suffering of an eating disorder, no mirrored recovery, but there is generally a pattern that is evident. I didn't even feel I ever 'fitted in' with that tribe either. I still don't, even when people comment on my blogs, I just think YOU DON'T GET ME. It's not like that in my head, I am fierce, yet fearful. 

It's like I sway constantly between NOT wanting to be in a herd of zebra, to wishing I had stripes. 

In one breath I find myself wishing I blended in. Wishing that I was indistinguishable from another sheep or zebra. Annoyed that they all live harmoniously together. I want to be defined by something decided by someone else, not myself. This can include wanting to be invited to lunch with colleagues, or family, wanting to be the same as everyone else, even though I am the polar opposite to some. 

Then in the next moment I remember I am a lioness. Different, proud and fierce. I feel strong alone. I know what I like and how I like it. I am focused on the way I live my life and think 'fuck the rest'. But the problem is, I only have flashes like this. I spend most of the time worried about my mane or why I can't be one of the herd. I roar and then worry about why that has upset their grazing, and end up wishing I hadn't roared at all. I blame me, for being me.  

But what my therapist said to me this week is a perspective I had not considered before. Lionesses spend time alone, they are animals who need their own space. They are fierce but they care deeply about their own pride. So, do you think zebra, who goes around in herds and NEED those herds, would be comfortable with a lion going for lunch? Would they fear that lion? Maybe, just maybe. what if another lioness came along? Would that cause friction? Maybe. But, it doesn't have to. You each just want to protect our own, but we are alike and can try to understand. 

I guess, what I am getting at is that it is accepting that am a lion whether I like it or not. As a cub I might have been given mixed messages, but I am strong and fierce and that is why I am still alive. 

That is why I was strong enough to escape the herd of zebras anorexia wants from people. Now, it is why I need to remind myself that in life, I need to worry less about what other people are saying about me, thinking of me or doing - and roar. 

Shaking Up and Breaking Up

For someone who doesn't do very well with change, I seem to be shaking up and breaking up left right and centre at the moment. 

I have been in my very own home for a month now already. People are right though, buying a house is one of the most stressful things I've ever done. But my gosh, when I turn the key and sit on my huge chaise sofa, it's nice and comforting to know it's all mine.

That's shake up No.1. The second is my recovery.

I went back to the EDU for the follow up to my review session a fortnight ago. Another go on the scales. I didn't like that at all. It messed with my month system of weighing in the same place, at the same place that I've had going since I was discharged. Despite not wanting to lose weight and actually wanting to get better - It stabs like a knife when its a different weight to 'my weight' and higher, at that. But I guess the fact the number bothered me, and the controls around the scales, is proof enough that I need what's coming next.

I am now on a longggg waiting list for another dose of  therapy. This time CBT-E. For four years I never worked to a specific type of treatment. The service itself admits that my emergency admission in 2011 meant I never really got the care I needed, and sort of made-do-and-mended with a range of different approaches.

I got the choice of CAT or CBT-E. I actually wanted to opt for CAT, but I was told the latter would be me best chance of kicking anorexia for good. It's going to be a wait and a half now. Time for me to get into a better place on my own so it's not too much of a shock to the system with calorie increases and challenges when I start up.

I am OVER the swallowing my pride stage. I need to do what I need to do to be freed, completely this time. I am stuck in that bid in the middle, Jenni Shaefer calls it 'Almost Anorexic' I think. Holding on to an unhealthy relationship with food. Letting rules and behaviours I was once a slave to still affect me. The thought of gaining weight still stresses me out, even if eating doesn't. But it's more about the fear of 'shaking up' my routine that bothers me.

So, the breaking up bit? Well, after I year, I decide I needed to break up with C. It wasn't working for me anymore. As good as things were, I found myself torn between so many things, I couldn't add therapy in there too. I need to focus on me again. I need to be free to listen to my head, and not feel more guilt about not being a good-enough girlfriend. I will miss his company, of course. I feel guilty for breaking up with him - but at the end of the day. I need to be authentic. I haven't chosen anorexia over a relationship. I have chosen me.

So, in a way, the shake up and break up actually leads to me making up with myself. Good deal that.

Riding the recovery waves

I'm here, I'm still here, swimming, promise.

A few people have messaged me asking if I was okay, seeing how the new meds were going, checking that I'm still swimming forward. Thank you for reaching out, all of you. I've been riding waves. 

I'm still swimming, I'm still staying afloat, but it's not been plain sailing. There have been some rough seas and I'm not quiet out of the riptide yet. I'm just thankful, I guess, that I have the strength and skills to keep my stroke going through this. Navigating each wave as it hits me. 

So, what's going on in these waters? 

Well, the first few weeks on the headmeds saw me up and down, feeling emotional and paranoid. I thought I'd made the wrong choice to be honest, should an anti-anxiety drug REALLY be making me worry MORE about what people thought of me? I thought not. However, 50 days in, and I seem to have gotten used to them. Although, I really don't feel much different. I am still worried about the same things, still not fully confident in embracing challenges to anorexic rules, still worried about gaining weight and still not able to relax. 

I went for a session at my local well-being clinic, for some counselling -  that was part of the deal at the Doctors. I get meds and a booster shot of 'How do you feel about that..." And to be honest, blah, they were honest, given the therapy I had at the EDU, there was VERY little they could help me with. I think the word was, "too complex" with anxiety still so connected with the hangover of anorexia, that I was too much for their little brains! So, here goes the referral BACK to EDU. Hmmm. 

That is where I am at. Waiting for my assessment back at the clinic I swore I'd never walk back into. With a psychiatrist I haven't seen before, but am aware of. It all feels a little strange. Weird because I don't feel like I need to go there. Yes, my weight is lower than when I was last there - but am I in the same place? No way. I have bought a house, kept up work, been in a relationship for almost a year and I have been running and not running in balance. Much better.

On the outside. On the inside, underwater, what thoughts often creep up? Well, I worry about my imperfections still, I don't like not planning my food, I very rarely eat out, I still haven't let the boyfriend cook me dinner, I still count calories and worry about over-eating. I don't like change and I don't like surprises. I still worry about what people think of me, still don't like my body. I can be too thin and too fat at the same time. All of the above. In waves.

And that is how I am 'ok' and not at the same time. I am not drowning in anyone of those thoughts. They are not always at the front of my mind, but they come and go in waves. Splashing me in the face and making my nose tingle like when I used to somersault in the water as a little girl. It's little reminders that I haven't fully stepped out of the ocean and on to the shore - however close I get, I just stay in here for one more minute. Just in case.

Maybe this time, a little more help - and my beach hut, warm towel and ice cream cone will be ready at the other side. And I'll walk in and enjoy it? 

Riding the recovery waves

I'm here, I'm still here, swimming, promise.

A few people have messaged me asking if I was okay, seeing how the new meds were going, checking that I'm still swimming forward. Thank you for reaching out, all of you. I've been riding waves. 

I'm still swimming, I'm still staying afloat, but it's not been plain sailing. There have been some rough seas and I'm not quiet out of the riptide yet. I'm just thankful, I guess, that I have the strength and skills to keep my stroke going through this. Navigating each wave as it hits me. 

So, what's going on in these waters? 

Well, the first few weeks on the headmeds saw me up and down, feeling emotional and paranoid. I thought I'd made the wrong choice to be honest, should an anti-anxiety drug REALLY be making me worry MORE about what people thought of me? I thought not. However, 50 days in, and I seem to have gotten used to them. Although, I really don't feel much different. I am still worried about the same things, still not fully confident in embracing challenges to anorexic rules, still worried about gaining weight and still not able to relax. 

I went for a session at my local well-being clinic, for some counselling -  that was part of the deal at the Doctors. I get meds and a booster shot of 'How do you feel about that..." And to be honest, blah, they were honest, given the therapy I had at the EDU, there was VERY little they could help me with. I think the word was, "too complex" with anxiety still so connected with the hangover of anorexia, that I was too much for their little brains! So, here goes the referral BACK to EDU. Hmmm. 

That is where I am at. Waiting for my assessment back at the clinic I swore I'd never walk back into. With a psychiatrist I haven't seen before, but am aware of. It all feels a little strange. Weird because I don't feel like I need to go there. Yes, my weight is lower than when I was last there - but am I in the same place? No way. I have bought a house, kept up work, been in a relationship for almost a year and I have been running and not running in balance. Much better.

On the outside. On the inside, underwater, what thoughts often creep up? Well, I worry about my imperfections still, I don't like not planning my food, I very rarely eat out, I still haven't let the boyfriend cook me dinner, I still count calories and worry about over-eating. I don't like change and I don't like surprises. I still worry about what people think of me, still don't like my body. I can be too thin and too fat at the same time. All of the above. In waves.

And that is how I am 'ok' and not at the same time. I am not drowning in anyone of those thoughts. They are not always at the front of my mind, but they come and go in waves. Splashing me in the face and making my nose tingle like when I used to somersault in the water as a little girl. It's little reminders that I haven't fully stepped out of the ocean and on to the shore - however close I get, I just stay in here for one more minute. Just in case.

Maybe this time, a little more help - and my beach hut, warm towel and ice cream cone will be ready at the other side. And I'll walk in and enjoy it? 

Solid rock or stuck in sinking sand?

Oh, yes, getting stuck in the sands of a 'safe' a common place in recovery, isn't it? But me? Stuck? No, surely not. I'm living on a solid rock aren't I? I am not like other people stuck in a half-way-house form of an eating disorder built on a not-so-solid foundation? I don't define myself as so, at least, so that makes me different. Well, en contraire. 

Before, I get started on the sand it appears I'm stuck living on now, let me take you back a couple of years, when I wrote this in a post about trying to fit life into the 'neat little boxes' of anorexia. 

"I can't fit, and will never be able to fit this stuff, new foods, new people, new experiences in to THIS life. They will never fit in to anorexia’s routine, rules or plan for me." - Me, January 2013

Right, so where have I built my house (or life) and why is it bothering me? Firstly, I'm stuck where I was when I was discharged this time last year I guess. When Dr B. signed me off, I KNEW I had work to do. I'm able to get by in life, I can work, workout, run and play. To an extent. I have lost weight since I left there too, something I'm probably too blase about to be honest. I knew I had physical 'work' to do to finish of weight restoration, it's obvious I haven't done that. But I am not sure why. I also had mental work to do, continuing the work we did in therapy/mindfulness about not believing the negative self-talk and reminding myself that, well, stuck is not safe. I promised myself I'd make plans to move house. 

But that's not going well. Yes, I'm safe-ish, but I'm also stuck on where I started putting the bricks.  I also knocked some of the walls I built with help down and now need to redo that work too. How do I know that? Well, for a couple of reasons, they might sound familiar 

1) The 'don't like/won't eat/want to eat' list 

Who knows what I do, don't or won't eat any more. What I liked pre-anorexia - I probably only eat 10 per cent of now. What I ate during treatment when working with Ms F - I probably only eat half of now. In conversations with C (the other half) over the last seven months, I've tried to justify and tell him there are foods I 'don't' like - when really, deep down, it's not that I don't like them - it's that I don't eat them. Because it freak anorexia the fuck out and I know it. So it's AVOIDANCE and I know it is. This is such an obvious sign on being stuck at a certain point in recovery. My biggest problem here is, that I've been stuck with these food rules for so long, I don't know HOW to move - or believe fully that I can. It IS restrictive and what's worse is, I know it. 

2) The same old routine.

That brings me to routine. Get up, eat the same breakfast, go to work, go home to the house built on sand, eat, bed. That's generally what I do, unless it's one of the days when I run or got to circuit training. Occasionally I do something different, when the boy comes over, or a friend wants to. But I have the daily pull back to my routine. Anything outside of that causes an internal niggling anxiety. I worry about when I will eat, what I will eat, whether I may or may not like doing what is planned. I CRAVE my normal when I'm not in it. 

3) Counting numbers. Worrying about numbers. 

With this I mean two sets of numbers, on a monthly basis, my weight. I still BLAME myself if my weight has gone up - like today - and just accept if it has gone down. But this also ties into the fact that I KNOW I haven't eaten more than standard RDA of calories EVERYDAY or always actively replaced the calories I have burned on runs etc.. So something must be 'wrong' with me to gain weight? So, there are the other numbers. Calories. I know roughly how many I eat a day, and when I know I have gone OVER that, I still feel greedy, glutinous and 'wrong'. 

4) Sitting still guilt

It's not that I run or workout to 'earn' food, but I'd be lying to myself or you if I said that it doesn't make life a little easier when I have. Like I can justify food or doing something for myself. I feel like self-hate or less self concious once I have exercised. It IS a self-esteem boost, so that's where this one gets complicated, because science will tell us that working out raises endorphins in anyone. 

5) Checking myself out

Body checking. Body image. Mirror work. Something we actually never got round to during treatment. Yes, really, they skipped this bit, but I wish thy hadn't. Partly because Mrs W. left before we got on to it, then Dr B's work with me took a different direction which uncovered more issues. But anyway, what this means is I still really don't like my body. I don't like bones, I don't like my 'fat bits' I don't like my bloated stomach and I micro analyse body parts too much. I get frustrated when people say my arms are still too thin, I don't like catching my reflection in the mirror at circuits and I am still very. very self concious when in the buff with C. I sway between NOT wanting to change my current body at all, wishing my imperfections weren't there and also looking fitter, more womanly and getting my boobs back. Like with food, I've forgotten what I ACTUALLY want. 

I haven't built my recovery on a completely unsustainable surface, I was lucky to get the help I did, but that doesn't mean I couldn't be on terra-firma though. I KNOW there is a firmer ground, a more solid place to lay down my roots, a place where other people will want to come to see me in, rather than on the sand. But for some reason I am struggling to move houses, and I am not sure why. Maybe because anorexia has convinced me it's a nicer house on the sand, with sea views? But that ocean is the one I swam not to die from this illness. So, would I ever jump back in fully? Not a chance, so why do I still need to look at it everyday?

Changing the game plan

Let's talk team tactics. First you need to realise this isn't just about food or anorexia now, it's my general game plan for life. It's not even about being too defensive of said life and my actions any more. It's not about attacking people for asking questions that's my worst habit. But, my current game plan seems to be a toxic mix of both, which isn't working for me. 

I feel attacked and the need to be defensive, almost all the time. Of course, I do the attacking but with that, I get more defensive too. All this does it create stalemate. No chance for a winning shot. 

I don't understand why I do it. Other than to try and 'protect' myself, like I believe I protect my 'game plan' and keep myself safe, just thankful I'm not losing. Whatever that means nowadays. I know I still don't think my team, plan or predictions are good enough to share with the bigger squad.

All I know is I still don't know how to react when people make suggestions about my life, when people I care about (and who care about me) want to know something about me. I get defensive quickly, like I'm worried that somehow it's all part of a master plan to catch me out or trip me up. The belief everyone has a motive that's on a difference agenda to mine. It can be as simple a question as 'What have you got planned tonight...' and I'll clam up and respond with 'Nothing, as usual, why?' - maybe it's insecurity, that I wish I did have something on - but reality is, more often that not, I couldn't actually face doing anything. It can be anything though, from exercise, to food and from the clothes I chose and the people I see. 

I've always been defensive of my life and actions, that's not new or balanced. But that's part of me. But deep down, let's be honest here, who (or what) am I protecting when I'm ultra defensive over food or eating out? When people suggest I try to eat something new, or question how I am weight-wise. That's the bit that sits uncomfortably - and it's when I am most likely to attack. 

I realise if I am going to let new people in, to allow people to get to know me - the real me - I am going to have to change my game plan. And maybe even let an assistant coach make some of the tactical decisions once in a while. 

I don't want to manage the whole lot on my own any more. I want to have a real team and not feel like it's Sarah vs the World. But it's been so long out on the field on my own, I've sort of forgotten some people are on the same side as me. 

Although there's still one player on the field that's not really in it for the team. 

When did recovery become a Quest?

I know, I know, don't compare yourself to others, don't look at other people's recovery and alter yours, or worse, falter or judge. But it's hard not to get riled when recovery bullshit is screaming you in the face. Or maybe the sight of quest bars and protein shakes is going to my head? 

First things first, I have no intention of changing my path because of someone else. I'd rather keep on moving in my own direction. I dont ever plan on eating a Quest bar either. But it doesn't mean what I see doesn't get on my nerves and play on my mind. 

You know, I think living and learning after anorexia can catapult life in all sorts of new direction, that's what's wonderful about recovery. You can end up finding yourself and living out the dreams you never knew you had. But embracing urges to travel, picking up new hobbies, making new friends etc. is one thing. Another is what's bugging me tonight.

      

Replacing a restrictive, controlled lifestyle with counted out and measured food and rigid exercise regimes isn't really the balance meant for recovery is it? Swapping days crying on a hospital ward at how worthless your life is, with twice daily trips to a gym isn't normal. If normal exists right?

Anyway, my continuing journey back to the sporty Sarah I once was conitues, part of me that went missing for three years, so I could relearn how to claim the enjoyment back - and I am. Thank god. I abused exercise, punished myself with it. Messed up and then missed it. I'm on track now though. But does that make me want to eat fucking quest bars or load on protes or go for girl gains (whatever the fuck they are?!) - No. Not one bit. I am very aware the fitness industry can suck vulnerable people trying to fix their bodies in just like eating disorders. That's the trap I can see others falling into, and it's blindingly obvious to see. Fine, just don't pretend you don't like the control.

I started this post saying I shouldn't judge. But I am I guess. But you know what. It's something that plays on my mind a lot, and yes, I still compare myself to people, in recovery and life. But if there's one thing you take from reading this, take this. If people posting their protein shake, post-workout meals or ridiculous training plans, you're not alone in getting fucked off. I do to.

My advice if their new fitness model life triggers you? Recover and run to your own beat. Have fun, be with friends, not the treadmill and soak up the sun and laugh inside as they count macros instead of calories. After all, there's an eating disorder called ortherexia isn't there. I don't plan on another diagnosis, but others are heading there. 

A social butterfly with broken wings

There's been a few times in the last couple of months where I've been in social situations, where in my early 20s I'd have been chatting, smiling, dancing and laughing, long into the wee hours. Yet now, at almost 30, I feel as insecure as I did when I was 16...and haven't been that Sarah for years.

It's almost like since anorexia took hold, since I froze from the inside out and damaged my social wings it's been so much harder to fly. 

I feel like I am learning all over again. 

I'm not talking about big crowds, but just general chilled out nights chatting or when I'm with a small group of family or friends. I'm sure this aspect of anorexia (and recovery) is harder to accept or adjust to as my illness took control at 26 not 16, so I know I can fly. 

Without getting too self analytical it's like my confidence has been zapped, like there's no point in saying much, because what I do say isn't interesting, funny or profound enough to be worth people listening. Even before I've said what I'm thinking, I've decided people don't want to hear it. 

It might be because for the last four years, if I'd said what was on my mind, I really would have been sectioned or something. I've been so used to filtering my thoughts and for so long, not actually having much to contribute, unless, of course, someone wanted to know the calorie content of a cocktail or meal.

Like anything in recovery, I'm sure it gets easier the more I do it. The more normal socialising becomes, the less it'll feel alien. The more times I contribute to conversations again with confidence, the more I'll remember I can join in. The fewer nights in I spend with Ana, the less attractive it'll be.

Some of it is trust and not believing people would want to spend time with me, some of it is body confidence, but also it's like I've been either ill or swimming in recovery for so long that I've forgotten how to have fun. Especially when it comes to men.

I've lost the ability to let go of the seriousness of situations and just flutter away without a care. 

If I didn't WANT to enjoy being around people this wouldn't be an issue, but the thing is, I miss it. I miss the Sarah who'd have the most random of conversations to the most random of people or the woman who'd look forward to nights out or ordering a glass of champagne, just because.

I miss that Sarah.

Volume Up, Volume Down

Life recently has been more up, than down, with regards to how I feel and the digits on the scales. It's felt good,  but there is still a tape going round and round. The same mix tape that's been on repeat for the past 20 years or so, and it's still bothering me.

It's okay when life is go, go, go. I don't have time to stop and think too hard about it all or tune in too much. I let life and work drown out the inner monologue, which is all well and good until I stop. 

Then the volume cranks up again and I can't ignore it, but honestly, I'm not sure drowning out the noise is the best solution anyway. Because then, in those quiet moments - or even just the less noisy ones - it's making me feel like shit.  I woke up this morning with the volume cranked right up. Not in any fully-tuned in and taking orders from anorexia sort of way, but just in an irritating, persuasive, believable sort of way. 

Some of the anxieties, thoughts, worries, beliefs and doubts reduced me to tears this morning. It's like I don't know what to do when the volume is turned up any more. Before it was so simple, I'd hear something on my inner mix tape, listen carefully and then act - fully confident it was a legitimate solution. 

But now, I hear the same message played out - the same concerns are brought to the surface in hearing it, yet I have no answers. I have no solution. I have no way of responding or replying to it. 

What sort of messages Sarah, I hear you ask? 

I hear the same old lines about the state of my body, I see the un-toned physique in the mirror. So I feel under pressure to be more active. I hear the worries about my seemingly ever-lasting weight gain, and worry when it will end. Those two combined inject anxiety into the NEED To exercise and I don't know if I want to - or have time. I hear the worries about NOT remembering what I've eaten. Which causes me to panic that stopping meal plans and diaries was irresponsible. I worry about every lump and bump on my body. Which takes me back to longing for skin which was just covering bone, not fat. I hear healthy, healthy, healthy messages and doubt every mouthful of carb, sugar and fats.....Pressure to be, do, don't be, don't do. It's overwhelming. I'll stop now, but the list is endless. 

It just goes round and round and I feel like I don't have the answers. I feel like the mix tape is right. I am trying to re-record over it, wipe it out and move on. 

I don't even feel like I can TELL anyone about this, why? Because you get the same old 'you're doing well', 'you're not fat', 'you're not greedy' answers. Which may be true on the outside, but they can't hear 'Radio Ana' playing inside. So I don't bother telling the rest of the world. Which is ridiculous as I tell everyone else to talk about it. 

But hearing it this mix tape so loud, without everything else to drown out the sound is still so hard. Even harder still is having it playing and dancing to a different beat. 

Jog on

"I run because it makes me happy, reduces anxiety and helps my recovery...and definitely not to burn calories...."

How many times have we heard this from someone trying to recover from anorexia? I am guilty myself of spinning the line on more than one occasion. I'm not being a hypocrite here, just being honest - I've lived this 'phase' of recovery. But luckily for me and my health I called my own bullshit on running, before I wound back completely at square one. 

Yes, okay, I abused exercise during my crash, burn-out and free fall into my illness, and some people didn't, and never have. We are all different on different journeys, yeah, we know that. But I really can't get my head around just how many recovering anorexics claim that they've some how miraculously snapped out of calorie-driven, low weight, walk-anywhere-to-burn-10-calories frame of mind  into 'running brings me freedom' state of peace and tranquillity in the space of weeks. If you have, gosh, I'm all ears. 

I'm sorry, I just don't buy it. You're HONESTLY telling me that on your 5, 10 or 25k runs you don't think about calories, losing 'just a little bit' or the fact that you know the training run you're doing at your 17.5BMI is burning, oh, roughly say, 356 calories? (More if you take the route that's slightly uphill?) Lets be honest, we both know you're not eating and EXTRA 356 calories to replace that energy you've used either are you? 

It's not only the inner monologue, but the comparing and competing ones too. Correct me if I am wrong, but anorexia is a tad competitive as illnesses go, isn't it? Don't you think I'll take your 5k Color Run and raise you a Great North Run comes into it too? Your 'recovery buddy' runs a 10k and you sign up to your local half marathon? Coincidence? 

I know I do it. I know I see 'friends' post pictures of their trainers, medals and finishers tee's and think 'Sarah you lazy bitch' get your trainers on and go and beat them. Show them you are harder, faster, stronger, better...do it, you can do it. But then I shake myself. I am in recovery. Not recovered.

I am okay with my truth right now, I'm glad I found it after a dabble at running more often. Trust me,  I'd love to be out there, pounding the pavements with you, running races and you know what? When I do run, I can run. I used to run  - fast. I will also run again, October actually, but this time I won't train alone and I will be replacing every last calorie I burn with each step, I've learnt the hard way how anorexia can ruin running. Twice.

But actually, back to honesty. I know my truth right now. I know when I run I eat less, because I feel like I should. When I run, I don't replace the calories used during said run. I take too much notice of times, calories burnt, splits and what distances others' are doing too. 

Everytime I see your training run, your race day pictures or your 'I'm super-recovery girl' now posts, I don't push myself to compete with you any more. I sit back, and remind myself of my truth and hope that you listen to yours too. And listen hard, before you run straight back to the eating disorders ward, with the others who thought they could jog on with anorexia as their coach. 

NB* This isn't to say some people CAN'T run healthily and fight off the 'anorexic coach' during recovery. Some people do, but we will all know our own paths and truths. I know mine, I'm still looking for a new running coach, any offers? 

Number Numbness

Somehow in recovery somewhere, I've gotten lost in a number numbness, a sort of numerical fog that won't lift. 

One of the first lessons I was taught in recovery and still hear lots is 'You are not a number' and that you can't measure your worth in calories, kilos or clothes sizes. All very true.

It's not even that. It's different. I know I am not defined by my weight. 

But I've realised after being weighed last week - seeing a smaller number - and following six months of the numbers slowly creeping down. I've slipped into a disconnected number numbness. 

Let's clear a few things up; I have NO drive to lose weight, at all. 

I don't want to be 'thin' or underweight.

I am not jealous of people's low weights/BMI.

I don't have a BMI that 'bothers' me.

I've been an adult healthy weight.

I don't add up my daily calories total.

I don't weigh all my food out. 

I don't know the calorie content of all my meals. 

I have clothes in all sizes and accept that.

But something is not right, that's become clear over the last six months where my weight has dropped without me WANTING it to or me consciously TRYING to. It has just happened. 

I am TOO disconnected from the scales.

It doesn't even make me feel good. I feel NOTHING about my weight. The numbers don't mean ANYTHING to me. They don't represent anything to me and they don't represent success or achievement. So what does this all mean?

Again, I've been told it's about balance, it's needing to care enough to be concious about what the scales say, but not consumed by it. It's about knowing I'm getting enough calories but not counting them. It's about noticing if my clothes feel looser, but not body checking. But all those things are double edged swords, depending if I let anorexic thoughts creep in. The problem is, because I'm not fully weight restored, I NEED to be concious that I NEED to gain more weight, I need to eat ENOUGH calories. 

It's like I've overdosed on numbers over the past three years in treatment, to the point that they don't mean anything to me now. 

To be honest, the numbness is driving me insane. I just wish I was numb enough to add the EXTRA to restore weight fully, but something is stopping me just letting go. And I can't feel it. Too much too numb. 

Doesn't Sarah get a say?

Simply put, no, not really. Not if I let anorexia have any sort of say over any part of my life. 

That's what I need to remember again, and it keeps coming in waves of realisation at the moment. 

When I let anorexia dictate part of a meal or whether I make plans with friends, what I choose from a menu or not or how far I run. I'm ultimately letting my illness decide my life for me. 

These waves keep coming and they need to keep coming. They aren't waves that make me feel positive, they make me feel idiotic to be honest. Like a fool to believe that it is me, Sarah, that calls all the shots around here. It's terrifying to be honest, because I notice them and the message they carry and if I now choose to ignore the messages that I comprehend and accept, it means I have a responsibility to speak up against the suggestions anorexia makes.

It's something Dr B. touched on for a split second last week - if I let go of anorexic beliefs, then I'd be free to choose to think and believe in whatever I wanted to believe in. I'd get more of a say. 

He's right though, I'm walking around with a head congested with options, debates and shoulds or coulds. I'm sat half way into recovery, partly free, partly trapped. Letting anorexia convince me I have control, but I'm just not to be fully trusted with it. 

For me to be able to decide what I do with my life, anorexia can't have a say on anything. 

Envious of people, but why? Their lives seem so much better than mine, so full up of things, people, happiness and yes, freedom. Freedom to choose what they want to choose. And freedom ultimately leads to happiness. 

I need these waves to keep washing over me and reminding me that ME calling the shots without anorexia having a say doesn't mean that I will lose control, it means I get a say on my life again. 

I decided to start recovery in May 2011 and now, in 2014, I need to decide to start living. 

Luckily, I decide to make the next move. That I do get a say in. I just need to keep speaking up.

I need to choose, soon, because if I leave it up to anorexia, she'll choose what will ultimately kill me. Or at the very least, carve out a miserable, lonely life for me. That's what she wants. 

Hello, can you hear me?

So this is the point in recovery where people stop worrying, stop listening and forget that anorexia 'exists' at all right? That's got to be it. But why? 

Because, yes, 'life' is going okay, there are positives, I'm full of enthusiasm for work, picking up confidence and building on experiences brick by brick - in the most positive way I can, which takes mammoth effort, but I believe it's worth it.  

I'm trying to talk positively about positive things too, something I've shied away from for a long time. Not make every 'I'm proud' or Well done' in to something negative instead. This is definitely perfectionism recovery in progress. 

I want to have positive news for everyone.  But how about when I drop the 'but my team a concerned and think I'm ignoring the eating disorder recovery thing a bit too much' line?

Silence. 

Followed by 'but focus on work', 'you're doing fine', 'work comes first now', 'you're okay'....or 'you know what you need to do', 'stay focused'...and on and on. So much so, that I convince myself I am fine.

How do I explain the unexplainable to people who didn't REALLY understand anorexia or recovery in the first place? After all, they did tell me 'to stop focusing on recovery so much, that I just needed to doing other things again' when I was dying from anorexia. Sums it up  Plus, how do I explain when I don't know how I even feel about it all, when I'm so blase about the problems I still face?

I understand that to people around me that I am 1000x healthier, happier, more 'Sarah', less dying and more confident than I was two years ago. But I am FAR from healthy, happy, alive and confident. 

Short of yelling my exact weight, my lingering anorexic rules, my detailed blood chemistry or the inside working (or lack of work) of my womb, there's not a lot else I CAN do. But is it even on their radar that I'm not too rosy on the inside, you know?

But what REALLY confuses me is my family telling me I'm looking 'well', that I am doing well, coping THEN seeing a close friend who tells me the polar opposite, pulls me up on possible weight loss and exposes the silent little niggles in me. Who the HELL do I believe and where do I go from here? I was confused as it was.

Do they hear me when I admit I need to strike some balance, get some motivation and stop ignoring recovery, stop ignoring the lack of social life or weight gain? Do they not see that anorexia is by my side? Can they not hear or see her too? Do they not want to?

I know I'm a louder voice than her nowadays and I do a bloody good job at shutting her up to focus on work and little bits of life. But she's still here and recently, I've let her get away with shouting off a little too much. But it only seems to be me listening. Again. 

I've learnt from the past, but it's frustrating and upsetting that they don't seem to have. After all, I am FINE, but I'm not fine too, that's how I got here in the first place. Coping, regardless. 

The Recovery Make Up School

Recovery feels more and more like I've got a big box of cosmetics to use when I need. Say you were to get a big spot before a date or a girls night out - make up helps, right? 

You know you can cover it up with concealer - foundation and powder - add some lippy, blow a kiss, tada, good to go. 

(Especially if a makeup artist has taught me apply to it correctly!)   

It makes that damn blemish less red and that concealer has made those ghastly black eyes less noticeable. For now.

The imperfections are are pain, but they're no longer stopping me embracing bits of life, getting out three, I can cover it up and get on with things. For a while.

But I know the spot is there - even if I'm concealing it from the potential new boyfriend or the friends with perfect skin - but you can't keep make up on ALL the time.

Even if on the surface I look improved. Inside I know I will need to deal with that spot at some point, I will need to catch up on sleep and give my skin some serious TLC to make it go away.

I know how - exfoliate - spot cream - stop blocking my pores with the make up to cover it up. 

They're learnt behaviours and techniques which enable me to cover up and control this problem and not miss out in bits of life, that without make up I would. Or it at least makes me a little more confident.

But all the makeup in the world won't solve it, make it go. 

Make up is a extremely handy tool for a short term cover up, a lift, a boost for a single night out or that fix for a blemish on a first date.

As are the learnt techniques or behaviours and known coping strategies in recovery.  BUT what I must remember, like applying make up to clogged up skin, it's not resolving the problem underneath.

In some ways it's actually adding to it. Not helping it to heal.

Walking around in life, getting on with things, thinking all is okay when I can cope, manage and control anorexia isn't the solution.

But it's addictive to just cope, easier, but knowing what I am doing day to day to enable me cope with anorexia, eventually becomes part of the problem if I'm not careful.

Maybe it's time to take the make to off before it gets worse and do what I need to do to clear it all. 

For good. 

Brain roadworks in process, expect delays.

WARNING: Interruptions may occur and overload could cause delays. 

I'm trusting Dr B right now, that having arguments and fighting back is what I need to do to rewire roads my anorexic brain, into a noggin sans eating disorder-skewed thinking.

So, when I tell myself I'm fat, I need to create a 'I am not fat' pathway. When I want to go for a run because I feel lazy, I need to tell myself I am not lazy and need to rest. When I feel ugly, I need to tell myself I am not. When I panic I'm not good enough at work, I need to remind myself I am constantly learning and evolving. When I feel greedy, I need to argue that I'm not. And so on...

But I agree, I am those things, they are real and true to me. I instinctively feel should be responding to those thoughts. But I also know from my science lessons (therapy!) that I shouldn't be acting on them. But they seem such logical routes to me? To fix me, to get me where I need to be. Perfect, maybe.  

This rewiring process is sort of what makes recovery possible, it's creating new pathways for thoughts. It's altering the way all the brains buzzy bits, do their buzzing It's all a bit science-y, but I sort of get the idea, they're like old worn pathways.

I think It's like being adamant that you know a short cut to somewhere, until someone comes along and tells you another way is much better. At first, you think 'no way' you are positive you know the best route. It's only when you TRY it you realise they might be right. It takes some getting used to and a few journeys to feel comfortable, but after a while you learn to accept the new route is much more effective. 

However, take a lifetime of well trodden paths of negative self-talk that are SO easy to take and SO often used and try convincing me to take new ones. THANKS but no thanks - but I KNOW I need to take them. 

Right now, there are so many arguments I let happen with out challenging a new way, there are so many thoughts that need sending in a new direction and I don't. Add to that a sort of pick-and-mix culture I've dug myself into a hole with and it leads me up another dead end, with no progress. 

I won't get into the arguments I am winning and losing, but let's just say I have so many paths to check out that I've sort of just paused at a crossroads.

The problem is, I've been at the same crossroads with my thinking (even if I haven't been acting on all of anorexia's commands) for the last 12 months, same weight, same old arguments, same issues. I have pushed on in some ways, but the new thought paths haven't taken shape. 

I know anorexia's catching me up, sneaking up behind me, I can hear her. Even if I don't do what she says, it gets harder to ignore. I need to chose a pathway she doesn't know, but I've got so much going on, I don't know which way to run. 

Ps. I'm not as good at map reading as I let on sometimes. I need to take a look at this before getting lost and recovery doesn't have a personal satnav to help, just advice from people who walked the path before.

My 'I have a dream...' moment

Recovery seems to take me on a roller coaster ride of experiences in my own personal therapy and more so as I share my journey so publicly. I guess I couldn't get much more public than public speaking, right?

It was my own little Martin Luther King moment, sharing my thoughts and I guess, I do have a 'recovery dream' for everyone else too,  don't I? 

So public speaking is what I did yesterday. I spoke in front of a lecture theatre, about speaking about my recovery. I shared my experience of treatment at my EDU at South Staffordshire and Shropshire NHS Healthcare Trust.'s AGM.

Smiling but feeling sick after my talk

It's another snowball from my epic journalling, setting up this blog and from my 38,000 Tweets that have evolved from moans about Fortisip and meal plan increases, to raising awareness of mental health and moaning about meal plans. Dream, Recover, Live even made it to the ED service display, using my 'Keep Swimming' and 'Recovery Shark' posts as analogies of recovery... (Take that Ana) It still blows my mind that what I write makes any sense, as I just remember in a confused, mixed up state starting this blog to check I was 'recovering' okay and as a space to rant and spill out all my anorexic thoughts back in 2011. 

But back to yesterday. I was TERRIFIED of confusing myself and them. Of messing up, not looking anorexic enough, not having clarity, of saying the right thing, annoying or upsetting my therapists (who were there and Dr B was in the front row!) but, like I said to a room of hundreds of people, if it doesn't scare me, why bother? 

Dr B and me in front row waiting for my talk.

What I couldn't communicate to the professionals and other service users in that room is that Ana was still there with me yesterday, even if they couldn't see it. Even if I seemed confident, that's the point huh?

She was still loud and clear to me. 

Shouting that "I wasn't ever ill enough to have an opinion, that people thought I was too fat, that I needed to prove my eating disorder some how...." I thought it was best to NOT let her speak - practice what I preached and to just smile and say 'thank you' when people said lovely things. (NB. I need to deal with her later!)

But, for those of you that weren't there, but wondered what I might have said about the journey (so far) to freedom from anorexia and my experiences, this is what I said: 

 "The reason I am stood in front of you, sharing my battles with mental health and talk about my recovery from anorexia today is because early on in my recovery this time around I realised that one of the reasons I got as ill as I did, is because I ALLOWED ANOREXIA TO SILENCE ME – I allowed my illness to convince me I wasn’t being HEARD – so I figured out the best antidote to that would probably be SHARING and TALKING about my recovery journey.

Anorexia is such a complicated illness, lots still doesn’t make sense – even to me and it’s my MIND doing the thinking, but I guess all the ‘ingredients’ that lie behind my eating disorder and fuel it are battles I’ve faced most of my life.  The issues I still have to fight now, today, even preparing this talk – I worry it’s not good enough, that I’ll mess it up, I will say the wrong thing, I don’t look anorexic  enough anymore, that it hasn’t REALLY happened to me, I don’t KNOW ENOUGH about anorexia and recovery to stand up here and talk. It scares me….

But that EXACTLY is WHY I AM DOING IT because believing these thoughts for the last 20 years is how I got to crisis point in 2011, it’s why I’ve spent my life ‘looking’ for what would fix me and it’s why my therapists here have the lovely job of helping me UNTANGLE all these issues.

I’m not sure where to start with the underlying issues of my eating disorder – like I said – they’re rather entwined. I’ve suffered from emetaphobia, anxiety and obsessions, restrictions and fears with food since I was 7 years old. Add to that a need for control, perfectionism, competitiveness from being a gymnast, low self-esteem, drive to exercise, poor body image…the list goes on, but I can't remember NOT thinking these things.  I’m surprised I wasn’t diagnosed with anorexia back in 1992, especially as it was clear my diet was highly restrictive, and I was terrified of eating. but because my BMI was never low enough through my childhood, teens and early 20s – I wasn’t diagnosed with anorexia until I was 26.

NO ONE HEARD ME……..Not at CAHMS, not when my GP referred me here at 14 and then at 17. Not at uni – and not at an NHS Trust in London 5 years ago when I actually told my doctor I hated my weight and body so much I couldn’t think of anything else.

Not once did anyone tell me losing weight wouldn’t solve my problems – no one ever really mentioned anorexia. I ate. I was a healthy weight, I was repeatedly told ‘I just had low self-esteem and a fear of sick and terrified of some foods.’ I WAS FINE. Wrong. Huh?

Despite all this somehow my motto of ‘hope being stronger than fear’ has got me through. I went to Bournemouth University and graduated with a degree in journalism, went on to live and work as a journalist in London, had relationships, survived Glastonbury, been on holiday….in recovery I’ve returned to journalism. I’ve developed ways of coping with life, getting though but always WONDERED if that voice was right – I just needed to be thinner, better, more in control of my life, of something.

So maybe it was the food I had been doing wrong? I thought maybe if I change the food I would change how I felt about myself? That is when I thought I’d found the magic after all. Finally - no one else mattered -  I was focused determined, finally it was working, I was losing weight. It was the food all along I knew it. That was in December 2010. But I wasn't ill – I had just found something that made me feel good enough and great. It was my secret. What I didn't realise is that niggling voice tarnishing the good times I've had in my life and then consuming the low times was actually anorexia all along. I just could see or believe this then.

The honeymoon period didn’t last long to be honest– my world began to crumble around me – I scared myself – I couldn’t cope with the secrets and lies and I definitely couldn’t keep up with work in London. I started to notice as the weight on the scales got less. So did my life.  I needed to speak and I needed someone to finally HEAR me.

That’s where this service finally HEARD ME. They listened to the screams from behind the cracks in the walls anorexia had built around me. I literally screamed down the phone that I needed help and if I didn’t get help now I’d not bother. I’d die….Luckily for me, they listened and they acted.

Since August 2011, my team here have kept the window of opportunity wedged open – despite anorexia trying to slam it shut along the way. But finally they HEARD ME, so I knew I had to KEEP TALKING and revealing the lies and secrets of anorexia to Wendy Bell,  Fiona Preston and David Bishop. Even at times when I’ve not felt ill enough for their help – I have learnt to TRUST that I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, they believe me.

It's a constant battle to out-scream the voice that’s screaming I’m not good enough or ill enough. But that's where I found the best antidote to anorexia - However loud she wants to be I'm determined to be louder. This is why I talk about my recovery, this is why talk about eating disorders.  I tell people, I speak about it and I expose the lies. It’s why I keep fighting.

It hasn’t always been easy to SHARE what’s going on my head – but there is real truth In the quote about ‘speaking the truth, even if your voice shakes’ because the more I wrote, spoke or shared, the more sense things made. I have found my voice, so I better keep using it.

I started sharing my journal with my therapist, when Wendy left, the word count was actually more than 500,000.  I then started reading other peoples recovery blogs, and was inspired enough to start turning my own journal entries into a blog, and then I began tweeting about my battles, thoughts and recovery – outing anorexia’s lies to the world tweet by tweet. Even the rants or moans or complaints that I was having. It was amazing and empowering and inspiring to find so many other people saying ME TOO about eating disorders online and I started to realise how anorexia and I weren’t in an ‘exclusive’ relationship.

I want to understand my illness.  I want to outsmart it and to explain it. I hope that by exposing the debates and lies in as many ways I can, I will help other people realise they are under the same anorexic spell.

I hope that sharing my story shows people how I was seduced by anorexia’s promises of perfecting my life – of fixing me. How the promise were built on lies – and seriously flawed. I also hope it will enable people to be HEARD before anorexia’s walls are too high. I hope by speaking about my battles I’m able to remind professionals, teachers, friends and parents to really LISTEN to people who are trying to whisper over anorexia’s screams, even if they look okay on the outside.

I'm not sure sometimes how long a full recovery will take, or whether I’ll ever really understand it or be able to explain it all without tying myself up in knots. BUT what I am sure of is that I will keep shouting as loud as I can, in my own therapy, through my writing or in 140 characters on Twitter. If nothing else, it makes more sense out in the open than it does in my head.

I’m sure that with the help of my team at the eating disorder here, I can write a positive final chapter to my own story and complete my recovery. That my competitive spirit will pull through, and I will win.

Then, I hope I’ll move on to a brand new book encouraging and inspiring others to TALK, BEFORE an eating disorder ties them up in knots and silences them too.  Not only that, I want to help to make sure that when they are brave enough to out-shout anorexia, they’re HEARD.

…..Please, can you all play your part and make sure you re-tweet me when I get there!

Thank you."

My blog on the service display