At first glance it might seem that I am just a happy, normal girl who loves to bake and walk her dog. However, I have suffered with an eating disorder since I was 13. It was only in May 2014 when I realised that this Voice in my head was slowly but surely trying to kill me. And so began the long, hard, and painful journey which is recovery...

I want My Cocoa Stained Apron to be a special place...a place for reflection, memories, shared stories...and of course a little bit of cocoa-staining ;) Recovery might be the hardest thing you ever choose to do in this life. But it is also the bravest and best decision you will ever make.:)

Monday, 8 February 2016

I could just let this slip through my fingers...I could just let my life be stolen away from me..

The morning rain fell hard and without pity, hammering itself relentlessly upon the glass roof of the conservatory, beating down upon the bare branches of the blossom tree in a garden still held within winter's tightly clenched fist. Every blade of grass became decked in icy moisture; every leaf of every tree a silvery, dew-spotted shroud. Shivering songbirds huddled together upon those wet twigs, endeavouring in vain to derive heat from each other's saturated bodies, their tiny heads gazing forlornly up a sky heavy with clouds as dark and as unfeeling as hard grey stone, as if sending out a silent, hopeless prayer for that rain to cease to fall.

The faintest glimmer of brightness, shining dully through the clouds towards the western horizon. At first, that brightness appears as little more than a faint milky glow, but then it spreads and grows, becoming stronger and stronger, illuminating the whole of the sky so that the grey is replaced by pure azure blue. The clouds to shrink and retreat, gathering themselves up like the trailing skirts of fleeing dancer.

Slipping on my jacket and warm woollen gloves, I clipped the lead onto Benny's supple leather collar, sensing the transition in that tumultuous, impossibly beautiful, regal sky.

We wander far across the exposed expanses of windswept heathland; a landscape fully exposed to the wrath of that bone-chilling, icily cold wintry wind which hurtles itself down from the distant slopes of the purpley-tinged mountains standing solemnly on guard to the northerly horizon. And then finally, we come to the river. In carefree delight, Benny launches himself into the ice cold water, his little pink tongue lolling, the strands of curly hair at his chest and stomach becoming sodden with moisture as he waded deeper and deeper into the rushing, swirling waters.

Watching him, I could not help but smile, even though my eyes were filled with unshed tears, because seeing him there, contently splashing about without a single care in the world, made me realise how much I loved him; how precious he was to me.And how easy it would be for me to lose him forever: one single little slip, and he could be borne away, away from me by the hostile, inhumanely cruel current; a current which would take no heed of my desperate, agonised shouts to bring him back.

That single one fleeting moment made me cry out in alarm, gripped as I was by a sudden and unstoppable surge of terrified anxiety. I sprang to the riverbank and shouted his name. He turned and swam back towards the shore, soft brown eyes gazing into my own. As he emerged from the water, I enveloped him in my arms and held him tightly to my chest, oblivious to the muddy, cold water that seeped into my clothes from his sodden fur.

Of course, my fear then was more or less illogical. It was very, very unlikely that Benny, being the strong swimmer that he was, was in any kind of danger. But the moment stuck with me, when we finally got home and I was sitting by the fire with my laptop, gathering my thoughts together for a little blog post in which I could inscribe into words the realisation of truth that struck me today.

Because here now is the truth, the real, ice cold, undeniable and inevitable truth.

Life is precious and in a way, so, so fragile. It could so easily be taken away. And once we have lost it, let it slip through our fingers, let it go, just that once...well then, there is no going back. The rushing tide which took it away, will not simply bring it back to us when we realise our fatal mistake.

And yes, it would be so, so easy, for me, to just let life slip away from me, slip through my fingers like tiny grains of sand, grains which I will never be able to pick up again, grains which I will never again be able to retrieve.

I have wasted nearly half of my life, imprisoned and enslaved by ed.

Is it not time that I, that we, break ourselves free...

And not let ED steal away, one single piece more of this precious, transitory thing that we call life.


  1. Beautifully written, and so true, hope your doing well.xx

    1. <3 thank you so much Liberty <3 I really hope you are doing ok too, thank you so much for your words, they mean so so much <3 xxx

  2. So true, your words are always a reminder not to give, beautiful and inspiring post for all of us, struggling against the voice.
    Love and hugs, Maria

    1. <3 thank you hun, I hoped it helped you in some way dear <3 please don't ever give up and try to remember my message when you are finding things hard. You have so much to offer hun even if you may not see it for yourself. All my love to you dear maria. <3 xxx