Symbolism.

It bewilders the mind to think that we have pasts that can't be visited. Photos and stories from loved ones are the only proof of certain events – our memories simply didn't capture and hold onto those moments in time. We have so much behind us, in our pasts, that cannot be recollected, but each and every moment were an integral part of making us who we are now. Our experiences, memorable or not, shaped us, and continue to shape us.
Looking through photo albums of when Eleanor was only a few days old, took me back to a time before I could remember. I felt so much a part of those photos, yet so distant and separate from them. That little, tiny baby, asleep in my mother's arms, was me. The thought has never occurred to me before, and it came to me for reasons unknown. When the brain is new it can't hold onto moments in time because it is so busy focusing on the present moment. It is learning, learning in order to survive - nothing else matters. It is just like when a brain is under-nourished. The only thing the brain can focus on is food, as it is what is necessary for survival. Again, nothing else matters.
When I was in the midst of my eating disorder, the only thing I can remember from that time was the constant thought of food. I don't remember any significant events, only that I was in a depressed state constantly. My mind was on food, or it was on nothing at all.
Not being able to remember past events when I was a newborn baby isn't nearly as terrifying as not being able to recall months of my life when I should've been able to. They are lost moments of time. Looking back on photographs of my childhood fills me with joy and excitement, because it's another story that can be told by my parents, but looking back on photographs of those months of sickness fills me with horror, disgust and sadness. There are no exciting stories to tell in those photos. They only capture a sad, empty and lonely girl – I don't want to remember what it was like in that state of mind, but the fact that I can't makes it all the more worse.

The past is in the past, though, and that is where it will forever stay. I want photos of me to capture happiness, liveliness and a healthy glow. I want to capture moments in time that I want to relive and remember. Life will not wait for me, and photos can only show bits and pieces of memories – instead of living in pictures and words, I want to live in the real world. I want to make my own past one that I'm proud of.

***

On this past Saturday, I spent the night at a friend's house with 3 lovely girls. I was filled with anxiety, annoyance that I had to bring my own food, and excitement all in one. It has been too long since I've done something fun and social, aside from the once-a-week coffee with two girlfriends of mine. I hadn't slept over someone's house since last year, and that thought made me sad. I took a chance, Saturday night, and decided to challenge myself. So what if I had to bring my own food? Those three girls were very understanding and accepting, making me feel welcome and… Normal.

That night, something symbolic happened. I'm ashamed to admit that the hospital band I'd been made to wear while I was away had been on my wrist since my discharge… Until Saturday night.
After watching the girls cook and eat their own dinner, I went into a room to change into my bedclothes. That's when my hospital band snapped off. I looked at it, sitting there in two pieces on the floor, and the only thing that came into my head was:
Freedom.
The breaking of my hospital band signified freedom; freedom from the chains that bind me to my eating disorder.
I had been wearing the band more out of habit than anything, but the fact that I hadn't made the effort to rid myself of it showed that I was unwilling to let go. This was the letting go that I needed, the kick in the pants that I required in order for me to move onward. It's made me realize how much more there is out there than being bound to a sad and lonely existence. Seeing those girls eat what they wanted, when they wanted, just because, gave me the motivation to do what was right for myself and my health. Those girls weren't constantly worried about what they ate, how much they ate; they didn't care about carbs or protein or fat. They simply just ate, because that is normal. I've become so used to this abnormal way of living, constantly thinking about food, the nutritional benefits or lack thereof. Those girls inspired me, and my broken hospital band was a sign. It is a sign that I am ready to move on, and that it is okay to move on.

I can be happy and healthy and whole, just like them.
It will take time, a lot of effort and hard work, and I will need help, but I will get to that place, and when I do, I'll look back and wonder why I ever let myself get so unwell. However, it has made me appreciate the small things in life, and life itself.

I will be free.
I am ready to be free.

It’s Been A Long Time.

I've been writing blog posts in my head all week, but when it comes to actually writing down my thoughts, failure & frustration ensue. So here is my last attempt at writing something literate.

Physically, I am father forward in recovery than I have ever been. Last week, I got over the 'scary' weight I had been avoiding for the entire year I was out of hospital. Last week, I crossed that line, and in doing so I slashed a huge hole in my emotional and mental stability. While everyone around me is proud, happy, elated – I am full of negative thoughts and feelings.

I read somewhere once that recovering from Anorexia is harder than being in Anorexia. It's the moving forward into the unknown, the uncomfortable, the ether otherwise known as life that scares the brain away from moving forward. Being in the throes of Anorexia is a comfort; everything is set out, everything is known, there's no uncertainty. It's a 'safe' place where everything stays the same and everything is seemingly in control. But when you take a step outside of that safety zone, that's when the hurt, the pain and the fear floods the mind, sending it into a downward spiral of negative energy and force.
While I am physically healing and strengthening, mentally I am sinking and weakening. Rationally, I know that this is because I am moving into an unknown place, and the disordered thoughts are trying with all their might to get me back into that safety bracket… But it's a hole. A bottomless hole of despair is not a hole that Eleanor wants to fall back down into. Eleanor wants to wake up in the morning, leap out of bed and smile at the dishevelled reflection in the mirror. Eleanor wants to eat when hungry, stop when full, not worry about how much or how little. Eleanor wants to live.

Being in an Eating Disorder will only lead Eleanor into the realm of Death. It will starve her of happiness, fulfilment, life.

The further along I get, the harder it becomes. There have been countless times where I've just wanted to give up and give in, because the way I know how to cope is 'easier'. That in itself is an unhealthy thought, and I have been trying with all my might to ignore those urges. I don't have any control over my food intake at the moment, which rationally I know is the only way things will improve. Give E.D. an inch and it will take it a mile, as the saying goes.
It's terrifying that these voices are so strong.

Yesterday I was talking to an ex boyfriend of mine about the things that go on inside my head. Externalising the Eating Disorder and viewing it from third person really helped to put things into perspective. Essentially, someone with an eating disorder is slowly killing themselves, existing basically on air and empty promises of happiness. The brain is constantly thinking of food because the body is so starved of it – take a candy away from a child and the child will kick and scream until it gets the candy back. Why would anyone do that to themselves? Stripping away the layers of happiness and joy in their life until they're left with the pieces of a broken body, soul, heart, mind and life? We become susceptible to the monsters that lie beneath the surface and turn to them as a way of putting meaning to a pitiful existence.
Seeing it without being a part of it makes me wonder how I got here in the first place, but also makes me want to be rid of it. That is my motivation. I don't want a pitiful existence. I don't want to die before I've done the things I want to do in life. I want to live happily, and to live happily I must first be physically able to. I need my health in order to live the life I want to live.

This post sounds somewhat positive, which surprised me as the only things in my life as of late have been viewed in a very negative light. But I'm not complaining.
The hard days will get harder, but the good days will get better.
And it will all be worth it in the end.