Perhaps it's not such a disaster after all...
I wrote the below piece back in January, just before I went into hospital, and I came across it the other day and decided that actually I will now post it. Why? Because although my family are still be going through an incredibly tough time, I no longer want to drop off the face of the earth, I no longer feel totally alone. Whilst in hospital, and since coming out of hospital I have been totally overwhelmed by people’s kindness. So, so many have shown that they truly do care; they weren’t empty words, and that’s what has kept me going, and continues to do so.
This is what I wrote in January... ‘You say you want me to be honest with you? But do you really? I’m not sure you could handle the honest truth. But, if you say so, I’ll be honest with you…
Right now, I don’t want to exist anymore. I want to drop off the face of this earth. No, I don’t want to die, as I know that there’s got to be more to life than this. But at the same time I’m not sure I can deal with carrying on living.
I get messages daily, “let me know if I can help?” “I’m always here.” “I’d do anything for you!” etc. etc. but when it comes down to it… would you really? Is anyone really there? To me, it seems that we all live in such self-seeking, self-satisfying ways, that although we say these things, we don’t really know how to express it.
If you’re reading this you’ll probably be aware that I’m now in my fifth year battling this illness, and whilst I’m finding each day incredibly tough to get through at the moment, I’m sure that you, similarly to me, cannot even begin to comprehend just how hard it must be for my family to watch me, their daughter/sister/twin, in so much pain, right in front of their eyes. Some would say that life couldn’t get any worse…
Except, yes, apparently it could. We’re now also being forced to move house, as we can no longer afford to live here; to a totally different part of the country, into a 2-bed house, and all in under a months’ time. As if life didn’t already feel hard enough.
This morning I woke with a new-found determination to beat this illness, I leapt out of bed excitedly and went to tell Mummy that “Maybe I CAN do this! I CAN beat this myself!”. Little did I know that in under an hour, all my hopes would be crushed, and anorexia would be proved right, once again, sneering, “see I told you, I’m the only thing you can rely on”.
You see, growing up I learnt that the only thing I could control in my life was my food; it’s all about control, that is the crux of my illness. I crave control, reliability, stability, and… anorexia provides exactly that. You may be thinking, “What the hell? Control? It’s taking all your control, not giving you any, Mima! Don’t be so stupid!”. But, that’s the paradoxical nature of this illness. Although underneath it may be taking all my control, on the surface, I feel it provides me with control. It’s reliable; I know what it gives me, if I eat ‘this’ it’ll make me feel like ‘that’. It’s stable. I know what to expect from ‘it’, and ‘it’ knows what to expect from me, obedience.
… And people wonder why I’m still ill. How the hell am I meant to get better when my life continually feels totally out of control in so many other aspects and has done for so long. Anorexia is a notoriously difficult illness to recover from; it’s my coping mechanism, as I’ve said, for me it all comes down to control. So, you can imagine the fear that’s been consuming my parents as they’ve been trying to work out how on earth to break it to me, that my home is about to be uprooted for the 3rdtime in 7 years, and any sense of stability I have left is about to be taken.
Out of control would be a vast understatement. I feel like my entire world is collapsing around me. This may sound dramatic, but very few people have any idea of the battles my family have already had to face. In fact, from the outside people seem to assume we have everything materially, when in reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth. My parents have always been very open; we’ve all known Daddy’s business has been struggling for quite some time now. In fact, my illness began around the time when things worsened for us financially; he carries a lot of guilt that it’s “his fault” that I’m ill. The one thing a father is meant to do is to provide for their family, and, in his eyes he’s failed to do that. It’s hard enough for my parents to contest against anorexia daily in an attempt to get their Mima back, but now add in the guilt of believing that they’re to blame for it, and what’s more, at the very point when they know that I’m struggling the most, they’re hit once again with a huge punch of guilt, very aware that the news that we are going to have to leave our home is going to unsettle me further, and there’s nothing they can do to protect me from it.
People say they admire my ability to be so open in sharing this on my blog. I suppose one of the main motivations for me doing so is because secrets are what make people ill; secrets are what fool people into believing they’re alone, and secrets are a big part of what made me so ill.
We’re all so consumed with portraying our lives to be nothing less than perfect, our families to be caring, our holidays happy, our friends faithful, when often it’s all so fake. We’re all guilty of it though, I’m guilty too. So, I guess I wanted to write this to tell you all that, right now, my family is not okay.
Secrets are what made me ill; and I refuse to let the news I’ve been told this morning follow the same pattern.’
…I can’t believe that I wrote that nearly five months ago. We have now moved into our new house in Norwich and… it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I feel incredibly blessed; I’ve discovered that Norwich is a fantastic City, it’s packed with beautiful independent coffee shops where I can sit and blog, read, or journal. The people here are so welcoming and friendly, and most of all, my family are still all in one piece. When I was first told about this move, as you’ll have read above, I was pretty distraught, I was just going into hospital and once again life felt totally out of my control. But I think there’s something to be said in that? Maybe when things don’t go how we anticipate or want it’s because someone has something better planned for us. Perhaps this move was the kick I needed to help me learn to let go of my constant craving for control? Life seems to have a way of working out in the most unexpected of ways, and if I can learn to relinquish my desire for complete control, hopefully I can also slowly relinquish my reliance on anorexia.
Maybe Norwich can be a place I can learn to trust, even if I can’t ever call it home.
