The people who keep me going...
In all of this mess, friendship and connection are what really matter. Never in my life have I been more grateful for the dear friends who surround me every day (even if it can only be virtually at the moment).
My Orri friends are without a doubt the strongest, bravest, and most resilient people I’ve ever been blessed enough to meet. In recent weeks these special people have helped glimmers of the real Mima resurface; whether it be crying with laughter over rock solid chocolate mousse, Saturday night wine-time, or dressing up as ripe little avocados. This bunch are special; they’re special because although they’ve seen me at my worst, they won’t stop believing in me and helping me get back to my best.
I spent a long time in one of my sessions the other week arguing why no one should believe in me, help me, or care about me. How I take, take, take and never give. Nearing the end of this session I was tasked with the homework of challenging these beliefs by asking some close Orri friends to write how I have helped them in the past.
This was what one very special friend wrote…
‘MIMA. There are soooooo many ways that you have helped me in massive, huge, important ways. And you continue to do it everyday xx
1. By finding Mima I found Orri and without Orri I'm not convinced I’d still be here. Soooooo…
2. By making me feel 1000 times more at home during my first weeks with your sunny smiles and chatter.
3. By turning up day in, day out (almost!) and reminding me what strength and resilience look like when I reeeeeeally believed I had nothing left to give. For being living, breathing, screaming evidence to my eyes that strength grows in the moments when you think you can’t go on but keep going anyway.
4. By joining me and crying tears of laughter in processing groups when I just didn’t know what else to do.
5. By seeing me at my worst, crying snotty tears into spaghetti, and making me feel that despite it all, I was still likeable as a person.
6. By trusting me to see you at your worst, crying snotty tears into spaghetti, and reminding me that I am not alone in this.
7. By helping me feel proud of myself by eating spaghetti with me another time, minus the snotty tears, and reminding me how very far we'd come.
8. By holding my hope for me on the days that I’ve dropped it and handing it back in the form of perfectly timed inspirational whatsApp messages or ‘Don’t Lose Your Fire’ notes. Saving me at pivotal points when I really considered derailing the recovery train.
9. By being such a wonderful, caring, clever friend, with mischief and sparkle, a top class sense of humour and rap singing talent that rivals JZ.
10. And for letting me witness that friend disappear every now and then under the icy glaze of the illness. Sometimes it feels like I’m watching a rerun of all the times I let the shutters come down on my loved ones. It makes me feel sad and angry and frustrated at my eating disorder and so determined to really, truly beat it. But it has NEVER made me feel angry or frustrated at Mima. I found serious self-compassion in that. You helped me realise that it was ok to ditch my shame.
#MightMessAroundAndLetGoOfAllShameAndGuilt
11. Wine time and care free dinner giggles that gave me another glimpse of the good life. It reminded me that what I am fighting for will be so worth it in the end.
12. By letting me in and showing me that Mima is a beautiful, smart, funny, caring individual. Who’s life will, without any doubt, be magical and limitless, once she knows that she doesn’t need to cling onto her eating disorder.
It helped me dare to believe that the same might apply to me.
And now I am sure that it does.’
This friend is one of a kind, someone I admire and trust beyond words. So why does my head still refuse to let me believe what she writes? Why does my head immediately pipe up, ‘who’s she talking about? You must put on a very good act, you’re not any of the things she’s described’. Why can’t I just believe her?
The disparity between the ‘truths’ my head tells me and those which others voice is vast, and while I refuse to believe the latter I remain stuck, unwell.
The friend who wrote the piece above doesn’t see me as perfect, she sees me as real. And as Brene Brown says, “it’s people who love you because of your imperfection and vulnerability”, they’re the ones who really matter. So even if I can’t accept her words right now, I have to keep fighting so that one day I do.
I am so, so thankful to these friends for holding the hope. They know who they are.
