Just breathe

Close your eyes, tight! Breathe in, deeply! Pull in as much air are you can, fill your lungs until they are ready to burst. And exhale, slowly! Repeat times ten.

Isn’t it funny how taking a minute to simply breathe can sometimes change your entire perspective. Last week I was sure that I was headed for a relapse. I was convinced my sanity was at risk and that I was headed down the usual dark path. The world was empty, dark and lonely. In truth, some parts of that haven’t changed. Nothing in my life has changed. Apart for taking five minutes, letting the world pass me by and giving myself a little space to let that darkness wash over me.

It isn’t that someone came and picked me up, told me it would all be okay and fixed me again. When does that ever happen in life, and if it does – when does that ever help us really? The reality is that we do it ourselves, that’s how we heal and that is what recovery is. It isn’t about making the problems go away, it isn’t about being happy all the time, its about being able to let it wash pass you and cope with the darkness when (not if) it comes calling.

For a long time I felt that I was recovered because I hadn’t felt my darkness hit, because I had gotten through days, weeks, months without feeling that intense pain that crippled me for years. I thought I had been fixed because I hadn’t thought about killing myself in a year, because I hadn’t looked at objects and wondered how I could break it to create a weapon against my skin, because I hadn’t tricked those around me into believing I’d eaten than day. When those things come to mind, I instantly think that’s it, relapse is looming, because isn’t that what relapse is. And screw recovery when that happens, I may as well give in.

Let me be very clear, that isn’t relapse. It is only relapse if you agree with that voice that tells you screw it and follow through on that voice. Real life is about having those things happen and taking the breathe. We will always be challenged by life. We will always have periods of heartbreak and ache when we will feel like breaking. The lie that the world has told us for too many years is that that isn’t normal, but guess what – everyone goes through that, we all have darkness in us. It’s just some people hide it better but life is about having hurt inside. Some of us feel that so much stronger than others, some of us turn it inwards while others turn it outwards – but we all feel crap sometimes.

Life isn’t about avoiding the pain, its about learning to ride it out and breathe.

This week is the first time in a long time I did just that, a felt that I was living a normal life like everyone else. So I’m a little more messed up than the rest of the world, I can deal with that, but I know I’m not alone in that, and as long as I take a deep breathe I think I can cope with that (at least I hope I can).

The point is, yes I have to admit that I’ve got darkness in me, but being ‘recovered’ (whatever that means anymore) means finding the lightness there also. Where once I would have been stuck for months in that, it only took a few days to get back to myself again. That’s progress.

Be gentle with yourself even after you are recovered because those of us who were broken are stitched together again, one little tug at the string can make you feel like you are coming apart again… just take a deep breathe and know one little pluck won’t unravel you again!

Preparing myself for a train wreck

In my last few posts I’ve talked about how recovery to me has meant learning to break down the walls I’ve build around myself and actually use my heart (something that seemed to disappear inside my chest all of those years). The problem is by doing that, you set yourself up to fail, to face the rejection that you’ve been trying for years to avoid. This is why I’ve been struggling the last week because by admitting I have to open my heart, I’ve had to prepare myself for the rejection that no doubt sits behind those doors.

This last week I’ve almost been preparing myself for the train wreck that is enviably coming. The head on collision with heartache is just around the bend and somehow I know that.

Brace, Brace! Prepare to evacuate! Fasten your seatbelt and prepare for the impact.

This last year has been my making, it has seen recovery in reality and its the happiest I’ve been and like I’ve said before that scares me to my core because part of my is waiting for disaster – for the balloons to fall from the ceiling and everyone to jump out and shout surprise, this was all a big joke.

I’m taking risks in life and opening myself up to the hurt, fully, not because I have to but because I want to. I’m sick of being passive and simply existing. My depression, anorexia, self-harming, it all froze me in time. It stopped me learning how to cope with heartache and rejection. Why in my twenties am I still fearing rejection? Maybe this is all normal, and everyone regardless of their situation fears this part of life. maybe I’m not as abnormal as I feel today. And maybe rejection is part of a normal life.

This is the part I need to keep in my mind on days like today.

But, can I be completely honest to those of you who have made it this far? It doesn’t help to know this. It is still hard to be the resilient person. To remain strong because ‘you’ve overcome harder than this’. I might be the fixer in my family, friends, life. I might have survived the darkest and worst days but that shouldn’t mean I should be expected to easily sail through these hard days. Call me stupid or crazy but the hurt of being rejected from a job I really wanted is just as hard as the rejection of a partner, and just because I overcame the darkest days when I was broken down and suicidal doesn’t mean I can’t find today just as difficult.

When I say I’m preparing myself for a train wreck that’s because I know that some days are going to hit me harder than others. I’m preparing for the heartache that rejection brings. Yes, I will bounce back, yes it will be okay – I firmly believe that what is meant for you will not pass you by, things happen for a reason. Yes I am strong, but sometimes I wish someone would just hold my hand, pull me close and let me breakdown. I don’t want to hear that it’s ‘their loss’ or that things will work out. I want to be understood in that moment of hurt.

Just because I’ve pulled myself out of the depths of despair doesn’t mean I’m going to find the little things any less difficult. Sometimes bouncing back just takes us a little longer… I’m learning that now, and I know I will be okay but it is okay for us to break a little bit because no matter how ‘recovered’ we become we have to remember we are still human, and that means we are allowed to feel hurt, we don’t need to be the image of strength and recovery every moment!

Facing my reality

This week has been difficult to get through; its been long and challenging for so many reasons. Some weeks will be like this. Some days are harder than others and this week I’ve learned that it can be difficult to keep looking after yourself. It can be a fine line between happiness and relapse.

Don’t worry, I haven’t reached that darkness yet but this week was a careful reminder that its something you need to be mindful of. Triggers can be all around and sometimes you are just going to feel challenged by everything that life throws at you. That was my experience this week – not that there was anything particularly difficult happening, but the build up can means breaking point comes when you least expect it.

I’ve cried, I’ve hidden myself away, I’ve avoided parts of my life and I’ve been unable to sleep a lot this week. The difference between this and relapses I’ve previously had is that this time I didn’t act on the thoughts. The autopilot of self-destruction didn’t switch on this time. Maybe that’s the difference between struggling in life and going into your self-destruct again. I’m not sure that these periods of darkness will ever fully leave me, because lets face it life is always going to throw difficulties and unexpected curveball’s, but its about how we deal with that that really matters.

Something unexpected happened this week. I opened up to people in my life about my experiences. I’ve previously told this blog that I don’t talk about my anorexia, self-harm, depression and everything that comes with that. But this week, for some reason, I let it out. I told two different people that I had struggled and been ill. So I didn’t bear my soul or expose the gorey details; but this is progress right? The truth is I wanted them to know part of me that only a selected few will ever see, not because I want their support or sympathy, but because I wanted to connect with them. I’ll be completely honest, for both these people it was a risky decision – I instantly want to take back one of those conversations because I’m worried it will ruin that friendship but maybe, just maybe it will pay off. I do not know right now, I’m waiting to see which way it goes but gut instinct made the words tumble out, made me reveal that part of myself and I have to trust that feeling. Good or bad, I’ve got to be ready for whatever happens.

And that scares me so much.

These last few months I’ve taken the risks and I’ve taken life’s knocks as a result; this week I lost my way because the payoff means getting hurt. But it reminded me that however broken we all feel, where-ever you are in your illness/recovery/journey, even the most broken of us an be sewn back together. The makes and tears can still be seen but we are can still be made whole again. And its that that I need to keep in mind on days like today…

Being vulnerable…

Reverse the clocks. Go back to the day when you decided recovery was an option. What did it look like? What did you want from your journey? What was better than your illness?

To me, years ago, that was a Disney perfect happiness. Sunshine, butterflies, cupcakes and happiness (well maybe not the cupcakes!). My point is that to me all those years ago recovery was a perfect utopia where I would never feel darkness inside, I would never look in the mirror and cry, I would no longer be the vulnerable and broken person that I was. Recovery was an image of perfection. I’m a perfectionism, formerly living with anorexia, of course recovery was going to be done right and be 100% textbook perfect. I would be the best at recovery! Old habits die hard.

Come back to the present. How does recovery look now? That picture perfect recovery road doesn’t exist anymore. Learning the hard way, I’ve come to realise that recovery is never going to be how the textbooks read, it isn’t going to be easy and it is never perfect. But, that’s the point. Recovery is coping with that vulnerability without going into self-destruct, without pushing perfect, without half killing yourself.

And you know what, some days are bloody hard! Some days will be a struggle. Some days are going to almost destroy you. But its about holding on and not letting it win on those days. It’s okay to struggle and feel like autopilot of your illness is easier.

This week has been just that; I’ve felt like I’m falling, drowning and suspended in nothingness all at the same time. There are days when recovery seems like too much. Whats the point if it isn’t perfect? Wasn’t I meant to be the best and most recovered person in the world at this point? Am I still broken or in some state of repair – how long will this repair job take? Its only within these moments of struggling that I come to realise that everyone has these moments. Life is hard and there is no such thing as perfect. Being vulnerable is part of the human existence. Recovery isn’t about avoiding the breakdown and pain of life, its about finding how to share that pain, half it, offload it and keep going.

Being vulnerable isn’t me failing at recovery, its about me finding the people in my life who can help carry that pain as I continue in life. It has taken years for me to realise I don’t have to do this alone but it does mean allowing myself to be vulnerable and open out that vulnerability and let them in to help me in these times. It scares the crap out of me, and its a struggle to even begin to think about how I do that – the walls are built pretty damn thick. Maybe the first step is sharing that vulnerability here. Little by little I am getting there; allowing recovery to happen (the reality of recovery not the ivory tower I created all those years ago).

What is the purpose of my heart if I don’t use it?

Have you ever heard of game theory, or the prisoner’s dilemma? It’s a theory about decision making and risk taking. In essence it gives an overview of how we can make decisions given the potential options available to us; do you take the chance to get the best outcome for you but at a high risk, or do you opt out and settle.

For ten years I took the latter; avoid emotions and experiences, avoid living life because that means being exposed to the potential risk of heartache, pain and hurt. To me life was full of the potential to get scarred by living. It was easier to block it all out, and take the option to opt out completely. The payoff of avoiding heartache was to miss the benefits of taking the risk of live. To avoid the pain you have to also miss the sunshine. To avoid heartbreak, I had to avoid love. To forget the hurt inside, I had to forget that I was living. The decision was made based on how I can stop the hurt, but I completely forgot that there were other emotions that wouldn’t hurt me. I chose a payoff that was fantastic at missing out on the hurt but I never got to experience the love and happiness that happens alongside that.

And what did that achieve?

Avoiding the hurt is only fantastic when you know the other side of the coin. If I’ve never felt love, happiness and the spectrum of emotion that come with that, have I achieved what I wanted? From where I sit today, yes I can say no one else has ever gotten to break my heart into a million pieces, but I’m left wondering if I have a heart at all…

Would time have been better spent letting my heart take the pain just to show me that there is an opposite to that? However cheesy it sounds the truth is that you have to put up with the storm and rain to get to see the rainbow afterwards. I’m starting to believe in that, to see that the risk of hurt and pain (as hard and scary as that is) is worth it if I can for even one millisecond feel my heart beating in my chest.

Living a life where every action you take is intended to help you avoid feeling and to flatline your life (which is essentially what anorexia was for me) only leads to stopping all the wonder of life happening. It breaks my heart to know that by avoiding pain I avoided life. I avoided finding out who I was. I avoided friendship. I avoided love. And what did that achieve… ironically it has caused me more pain that anything else ever could. I’ve watched my friends, family and loved ones move on in life without me. I’ve watch a boy I could have loved find someone else who let him into her life. I’ve watched jobs and opportunities slip through my fingers because I couldn’t take the chance. I’ve watched my own life through someone else’s eyes and felt frozen by my own fears.

When did emotions become such a struggle? Why did heartache incapacitate me? What can I do to stop being an observer in life and decide to take part? Does anyone else feel like this?

Lets take the risk! Open your heart! Live your life because believe me you will look back in your recovered eyes and realise that flatlining was not worth it. Live will have storms and it will rain so much you will think you are going to drown, but from experience sometimes the most fun in life is dancing in the puddles afterwards. Live isn’t going to wait anymore, lets give it a chance, because even if it hurts I want to know what both sides of heartache feel life. I’m done avoiding!

What is the purpose of my heart if I don’t use it? Maybe its time to stitch myself back together and learn to use it again!

Stop living in the sunshine, start living with the rain

When I started this blog, I made a promise to myself that it would always be pro-recovery. That is my ethos in life. And while some days I find the strength in me to do that and be positive, there are some days when it isn’t as easy. This made me question if posting a blog tonight was something I could do? Can I post when I’m not even slightly positive in myself?

And I realised that there are always going to be dark days where recovery and positivity are lacking.

Let me digress slightly… The kicker about having depression is that there isn’t always something to make it happen. Read as many leaflets, research papers or media stories, but there is something missing in those experiences of depression. There is a preconception that my depression must manifest from negative experiences and I must be triggered by bad things. Truth be told my last two episodes of depression have happened at time sin my life when things are good, great even. The reality is nothing bad has to happen, I can be depressed when the whole world is shining and amazing life experiences are happening. For me even good experiences and emotions can be overwhelming and make trigger an avalanche of depression, anxiety obsessive thoughts and all the behaviours that can happen as a result. Maybe recovery has taught me to catch this early, to cope with it better or to live without letting life overwhelm me but there are always going to be times it catches you offguard and drowns you.It doesn’t have to be a full episode of depression but it can become a moment of breathlessness.

The more I capture myself, my own identity and true self, the more these offguard moments where I can’t catch my breath happen. I love where I am in life, and believe me this is less anxiety and more excitement, but today in a moment of overwhelming thought there was only one thing that I could think of… how much my depression/ anxiety/ self-harm/ anorexia [insert illness of your choice] has held me back.

I know that I have said that before, but let me go one step further to explain why this was such an overwhelm for me today…

I can never fix what letting this hold me back has cost me. I will never have a normal relationship with my family after this (because I will never tell them the true extent of what I have been through for both my sanity and their sake), and I will never have a normal, whatever that means, relationship, because no matter what happens to have a true relationship I am going to have to be honest about what I have been through. For me to be fully recovered and really be who I am, I need to be honest and let people into the fortress that surrounds my heart. Keeping that part of me secret can’t be an option. For professional relationships and friendships it can work the way it currently is, but to let myself fall in love I have the face this be be truly open.

As liberating as that can be, and freeing as it is for me, it scares me to my soul because it means truly letting the darkness be exposed. The reality of that is, I’m not sure I will ever experience relationships and love like my friends are talking about because exposing that darkness isn’t something that can be easily understood or accepted. It is a lot to ask of anyone to accept something like that and love you regardless. The reason I mentioned my depression earlier in this post was to share just how confusing it is, and how can you explain that to someone. At what point do you expose how messed up you are or can be? I’m not sure I can ask anyone to take that on, just in the same way I can’t ever tell my family the truth of how bad things got.

Sure, I could just hide that part of me; never expose the reality of what I have been. But maybe what this is all about is that I don’t want to keep hiding. For me recovery has to be about living with the pain and being loved in spite of that. Yes, that may mean I never get to experience what is a normal relationship, I may never have what all my friends have, but deep inside I know I’d rather never feel love again if it means having to change who I am all.

Maybe loving the real me and finally having the strength to fight this world alone is enough for me; I’m ignoring that voice inside that use to tell me I am worthless and realising that settling isn’t an option. You should be surrounded by people who accept you (the real you) because of the experiences you have had and how they have shaped you, not in spite of them.

“I’ve got a blank space baby… and I’ll write your name”

I am the best person in the world for pushing people away. My walls are so high that even my mother doesn’t have a clue how broken up I am inside. No-one has ever really seen who I truly am, because I’ve never wanted anyone that close. Anorexia taught me to I didn’t need anyone else. Anorexia taught me I was weak for wanting someone to comfort in my darkness, and instead pushed me further and harder with punishment. Anorexia taught me loneliness was all I deserved. Anorexia robbed me of my adolescent mistakes, one-night stands, relationships, break-ups and love.

It is only in these last years I realised anorexia lied to me my whole life.
It is only in these last years I realised I deserve better.
It is only in these last years I realised that I want those mistakes, lusts and loves.

For the first time in my life I am happy and comfortable with who I am. I can look in a mirror and not immediately focus on the parts of my body that I hate. I can think about myself and not automatically think about the awful things I am or have done. I am learning to love myself for the first time. As part of that all of those walls I’ve created have to come crashing down around me.

One part of breaking down that fortress is accepting that that invites people in. Truth be told, after years of desperate loneliness I want nothing more than to let someone in but I’ve no idea how to do that. It is only in seeing my friends couple off that I’ve started to think it might be nice, if even for a weekend, to feel the warmth of someone else in my life. Anorexia told me for so long that I wasn’t worth the touch of someone else that I’ve suddenly forgotten what that feels like. Anorexia made me a voiceless shell that I forgot it was okay to listened to (and actually heard). No wonder the idea of dating or a relationship scare me because anorexia told me I wasn’t worthy, deserving or ready for that (just two more pounds and you can talk to boys… right?). Sadly, even to be hugged feels alien to me after years of holding back.

Suddenly, now that I’ve realised what bullcrap that was that it’s hit me that, at 26, I’ve no idea what I’m doing. No one ever covered this one in the support forums, groups or helplines I’ve been to. Sure, I could read until my hearts content about how to rebuild the relationship with my parents and family, but no-one ever gave a warning that now you are in your twenties and ready to finally enter the adult world that you’re pretty must on your own with this part. Sex and relationships are never talked about by any one the support services (I can’t talk about counselling as I never went to treatment).

What the hell is flirting and how do I do it?

These skills and experiences we were meant to build during our formative years sort of slipped by the wayside, anorexia/ depression/ anxiety [insert preferred mental illness] got in the way of learning how to be an adult/ form relationships…

So here I am; breaking down the fortress around my heart, thawing out what is left of it, learning that connections with people both emotionally and physically are important and something that I deserve. It’s okay to admit that I’m struggling with that because letting someone into the madness of my mind is always going to be the hardness part of all of this. As much as I’m trying to physically escape the reminders of who or what I use to be letting someone in means exposing that part too. The scars, the thoughts, the places that I’ve been need to be exposed to allow anyone really in. And dating means potentially having to do that. Sure it won’t be for a while but somewhere down the road I’m heading there, and that scares me.

But do you want to know a secret; it also excites me!

Escape?

This week has been spent hunting for a new job, in a new city. Taking my own advice, I made a decision that to really overcome this I need a fresh start. The thing about recovery for me right now is that I keep being reminded about past decisions, choices and mistakes. There are only so many times you can talk to an ex, see how well he is doing and not think about what could have been (note, yes I am still friends with my ex however self-destructive that may be). Don’t get me wrong, in no world am I saying that I wish him, or anyone else, anything but happiness, it just raises those questions about the enviable path that life has taken.

I am honestly in the best place I’ve ever been in my life right now, and that is an amazing thing considering the person I was a few years back. But, regardless of how good things are there is always reminded of what could have been. I’m ashamed to say sometimes I wonder if the words I want to use there are should have been. Let me explain that better… Should it have been me that was getting married yesterday to the guy they feel for at university. Should it have been me who announced they were having a baby on Facebook last week? Should it have been me who had memories of all those happy nights they spent with their friends over the last ten years? The missing pieces of the puzzle?

But it’s okay. I’m not posting this as a bitter I wish that was me, because however horrible those years of struggle were it is part of me and my story and that makes me a pretty amazing person today (whoa, that might be the first time I’ve referred to myself as amazing!). If you offered me that chance to change my past I don’t know if I would change a thing because I actually like the person I’ve become.

I realise the paradox I’m presenting here; I am happy where I am in my recovery and in myself but I still want to escape the what if’s… Any maybe escape is the right word, maybe it isn’t. All I know is that begin reminded of the past and the person I was, and evidently the person I hated for so long, can get too much. Recovery isn’t about being perfect and better all the time, to me it has to be about learning to live in the real world. If that world is constantly reminding you of who you were, or could have been then is that helping me recover? I only care about who I am today. Being surrounded by reminders of my history keep me tied to that identity that was never really me…

“We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heros or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or maybe we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it’s our job to invent something better.”

Maybe this is an escape, but then again maybe it is inventing something better where the past can’t dictate who I can be. I want to be free to be me and release the shackles of this damned illness. I’m not running away as much as I’m giving myself the freedom to be me without being caught in my pasta is takes and should have beens…

Does that make me a coward?

Take the risk, take the leap, take the chance at happiness!

“the only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open”

Call it cheesy, call it stupid, call it what you want but I’ve decided to chance perception and live by a mantra, this mantra. Lost in a book, I finally felt words to express the change I had to see in myself. Anorexia was a cover, a big bubble wrap of safety to stop the woes of the world getting to me. So what if that meant the good was filtered out, right.

but wait…

Okay, filtering out the bad stuff is good. Heck it is great, hence why we live all bubble wrapped for so many years. But why? Yeh it’s possible the world is full of hate and badness. It’s possible the world is out to get me but what is the worst that could happen. So,eti es you need to take a risk, allow yourself to be cut open to feel what real life is, to feel life!

So I’ve taken a bit of a ‘yes man’ approach to things starting out now. I’ll take chances, risks, make regrets because it’s the regrets that give us experience. I might get torn apart from the world but maybe, just maybe In that tear I’ll feel something real. Even if it kills me, at least I’ll be living rather than merely existing. At least heartbreak reminds you you have a heart in the first place.

i might regret this, but what’s the worst that can happen?