Hugs and hankies...

Once again it’s trying to make me feel small and incapable. And I cannot take it. I cannot take it.

Stood in M&S for an hour earlier, eyes glazed over, totally detached, unreachable. Daddy just engulfed me in his arms. Where had his sparkly Mima gone? She’d disappeared. I could see the hopelessness in his eyes, longing to take it all away. But I’m not six anymore, hugs and hankies can’t take away the pain that this illness causes. That’s the saddest part, love alone can’t pull me out of this one.

I wish my anger at it provided some sort of protection from me retreating back to it, but on days like today it knows just how to get in, how to scare me, how to make me feel small and incapable. And I hate it. I absolutely hate days like today. It turns me into the contradiction of myself; silent, sharp and selfish.

I am not those things. Mima is sensitive, determined and brave. The little girl written about in those school reports, that is Mima. Persevering, funny and doggedly determined. That is Mima.

I’ve sat in groups all week watching it try to minimise and belittle the bravest, kindest, most intelligent people, and I’m SICK of it. 

This afternoon I drove and drove, Titanium turned up as high as it would go. Anything to try and drown it out. Refusing to give up I went in to attempt Waitrose take II, anorexia alive and kicking… ‘too much’ ‘not hungry’ ‘you can’t do it’ ‘you don’t want that’ ‘you don’t want anything’ ‘you failure’… it went on and on and on.

That is the reality of Anorexia. Cold, sharp, selfish and silencing. 

And it’s stolen my voice for years. But, maybe it’s no longer providing the same anaesthetic that it used to. Maybe I’m finding power in my words, maybe I’m learning that I have a choice even when it tries to make me feel like I don’t.