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.:)

Saturday 23 July 2016

Should I surrender myself to solitude...for at least then I would not get hurt? :'(

I check my phone this morning for the twentieth, thirtieth, fortieth time. The screen is blank; the little envelope sign which tells me I have a message is glaringly, cuttingly absent. So I sit down with my laptop instead, in the hope that I might have a few facebook messages to read. But there is nothing. Nothing, except the pain, and the emptiness. No one to see or meet up with, noone to talk to. I am lost and alone on my little lonely ship, lost and alone on this desolate grey ocean.

It hurts me. It hurts me as much as a knife would slicing across my heart. I scrutinize the messages and search for something in them which might have somehow offended or upset. There is nothing; nothing that I can see; but this does not by any means soothe the anxiety crashing through my head. Then I consider as to whether it is the frequency or persistence of my messages which have somehow annoyed or irritated. I am so angry with myself that I want to pound my head with my own hands. I am so, so distraught that I wish I could just throw away the laptop and the phone and disappear from the world that I know, forever. But where would I go? Would anyone actually notice if I just disappeared? Probably not; a cruel voice taunts at the back of my head. tears crack my eyes and spill in rivulets down my face.

The loneliness, I find, is as hard and as difficult as recovery. I am stronger now then I ever was, stronger than ever against ED. But I suppose I foolishly allowed myself to entertain the notion that, as I made progress with my recovery and the battle against the Voice, that my life would change, too, for the better; that things would be drastically and wonderfully different and changed. but this has not been the case. I am still as lonely and as isolated as I was before. I write countless of messages in the hope that today, tomorrow, the next day, I will get to see those who I love with every piece of my heart. But I guess people are busy and that they have their own friends. Their lives have moved on: but for me, everything remains the same.

I feel such an..an oddity. I often wonder, how many texts and messages an average twenty two year old girl receives in a day. dozens upon dozens? A constant deluge of texts and messages and snapchats? this is not the case for me: My phone usually sits, dejected and forgotten about, in my room every day. I check facebook all the time, hoping, praying, pleading that there will be something from someone I wrote to. there is rarely ever anything. The wound is deepening in my heart.

And so today I wondered...maybe I just need, to stop. To stop being the one trying to arrange things, to stop being the one who always texts first. Because no answers just means more pain and despair for me. And I do not want to infect others with my depression; I would rather die then hurt their feelings, or impinge negatively upon them in the slightest or most minor of ways.

Should I surrender myself to solitude....

Is this the only way I can keep myself, relatively safe? Safe from the pain and the loneliness and the knowing; the knowing that people's lives have moved on, without me?

So I bury my head in my Morokia notes, and walk out alone along the boglands with Benny. He stops to snuffle the ground and I pause to place a kiss upon his head. I take comfort in the softness of his fur. For animals, at least, are not like humans: they, unlike people, remain unchanged.




9 comments:

  1. Oh Emily, my "sister in heart", my "twin"...sorry if you do not like to be called by me... want to write some more after I will have thought about it a bit longer....but my days are exactly the same...well, no big help for you...but... want to write later a bit more!!
    All my love-really,
    Theresa

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    1. <3 aw no hun I do not mind at all <3 thank you as always for your kind and loving thoughts dear, they do help me feel that one bit better. I am so sorry for seeming so negative, I have felt a bit lonely and down today, but I know I just have to fight on..WE have to. And we will! Stay strong with my dear, much love,
      Emmy xxx

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  2. Emily, I've been there. It's tough. It's challenging enough recovering from an ED and feeling so alone. Believe in yourself, keep reaching out. I feel tears in my eyes as i can feel your pain. You are worth it honey. Change is difficult at times, but when you get there its like a WOW moment. Love and support always sonya

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    1. <3 thank youEVER so much Sonya, your words mean the world to me right now.I will keep on fighting, I know I have come so far and I don't want to give up. I just wish with all my heart that my old friends did not give up on me. It's one of the most painful and difficult things I have ever experienced. Thank you so so much hun. I can't say enough how grateful I am for your support. all my love, emmy xXxXx

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  3. oh Emmy, I feel your pain. I was at uni the other day and I checked my phone to see when I'd last received a message only to discover I hadn't used my phone to send of receive a message in four days.
    So please know that you are not alone. I often find myself in exactly the same situation and am sad enough to walk past my friend's house full well knowing that she isn't home.
    My only advice is to sign your self up for a course or a class be it a pachwork quilting class, casual dance class, a book group etc. You'll have to face the fear of going it alone or not knowing anyone but nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say.
    Please don't dispare, life is never static so it will not always be like this. Plus, getting this comment on your blog should remind you that there are those of us out there in this world who love and care about you.
    Megan xo

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    1. Oh Megan, thank you so , so much. Your little comment really did remind me that I am not alone; I can't express how grateful I am for that. The loneliness is really one of the most difficult obstacles that I think we both face right now.

      I think your idea is a really good one dear, I think it would be great for me to join something. Plus, perhaps it would help my confidence somewhat.

      I will keep on fighting hun,thank you so, so much for being there for me, I am so, so grateful to you. Sending you all my love and lots of hugs Megan <3 love, emmy xXxXx

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  4. Dear Emily,
    I am so, so sorry you are suffering so much.
    Your posts are both sad and beautiful; I have felt the things you write, I am writing to you from across a space of years and health -- I am so much older than you, and so much healthier. It saddens me greatly that you suffer so, and honestly, your words so often articulate perfectly things I felt "at your age" -- sorry for how that sounds, I really don't mean it patronisingly -- I half-regret the distance of time, but the one thing I can say from across that distance is ... I know what you mean, and I am so sorry. For me, this was probably the hardest and worst stage of recovery, and going through it once taught me always to reach out, to make sure I didn't get so isolated, to make sure I found people I could share things with -- not just the happy things, though that is important, but also where I was, the me-stuff. It came to seem necessity, not luxury, to do that, and if it led to some difficult or embarrassing exchanges, it also led to some deep, good friendships. I would urge you not to just sit quietly and endure it -- it can deepen in really nasty, frightening ways, that isolation -- I would urge you to find help, therapy or whatever, alongside reaching out for more human contact. This is the voice of my experience, and what I've learnt from going round these circles too many times. I hope you don't mind me writing being so much older &c, and I trust you know I don't mean it like "I have all the answers". I find your story so touching, and so sad, because you often articulate very beautifully things that I knew, but never want to know again. I really hope you will reach out right away, in whatever way you can think of. Your creativity and all the beauty of your imagination will, I think, help you greatly; those things can also be turned to creativity in finding yet more ways forward through the challenges of life. I never believed that after AN came depression, until I ended up in the thick of things which started in places that sound like what you write about. Anyway, I am repeating myself. Look after yourself, you are a beautiful soul.

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  5. Dear Emily,
    I am so, so sorry you are suffering so much.
    Your posts are both sad and beautiful; I have felt the things you write, I am writing to you from across a space of years and health -- I am so much older than you, and so much healthier. It saddens me greatly that you suffer so, and honestly, your words so often articulate perfectly things I felt "at your age" -- sorry for how that sounds, I really don't mean it patronisingly -- I half-regret the distance of time, but the one thing I can say from across that distance is ... I know what you mean, and I am so sorry. For me, this was probably the hardest and worst stage of recovery, and going through it once taught me always to reach out, to make sure I didn't get so isolated, to make sure I found people I could share things with -- not just the happy things, though that is important, but also where I was, the me-stuff. It came to seem necessity, not luxury, to do that, and if it led to some difficult or embarrassing exchanges, it also led to some deep, good friendships. I would urge you not to just sit quietly and endure it -- it can deepen in really nasty, frightening ways, that isolation -- I would urge you to find help, therapy or whatever, alongside reaching out for more human contact. This is the voice of my experience, and what I've learnt from going round these circles too many times. I hope you don't mind me writing being so much older &c, and I trust you know I don't mean it like "I have all the answers". I find your story so touching, and so sad, because you often articulate very beautifully things that I knew, but never want to know again. I really hope you will reach out right away, in whatever way you can think of. Your creativity and all the beauty of your imagination will, I think, help you greatly; those things can also be turned to creativity in finding yet more ways forward through the challenges of life. I never believed that after AN came depression, until I ended up in the thick of things which started in places that sound like what you write about. Anyway, I am repeating myself. Look after yourself, you are a beautiful soul.

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    1. Thank you so, so much, your comment truly did bring tears to my eyes - I'm guessing it is because our stories are similar in so many ways; and I was just so genuinely touched by your kindness and sincerity.

      Please don't apologise, I understand completely what you mean and I don't find it patronizing at all. My biggest problem is that I have now become almost afraid to open up to others anymore; for fear of being branded, an oddity, weak, a constant negative depressive. But I know I can't bear this alone.

      I will try very hard to take your advice to heart. You are so wise and so kind, your words really have touched me so much..thank you with all my heart <3 take care of yourself too, love, emmy x

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