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.:)

Friday 29 December 2017

Changing Skies.. xxx

Walking through the snow towards the canteen the other night, a flash of moving light to the east caught my eye. I swiftly glanced upwards, and a tingle passed over my skin. A shooting star, leaping down from the heavens, descending towards the earth in a tiny orb of silver radiance.

But that was only the start of the show. As I watched, transfixed, allowing what I had just seen to sink into my consciousness, I suddenly realised that the whole sky was aglow. Given the clearness of the night sky that particular evening, the Northern Lights were given the opportunity to manifest their full sublimity. Pulsing riverlets of soft, glowing colours - aqua green, predominantly; interspersed with rose pink and mauvey-purple - snaked themselves across the sky's infinite expanses, some of them fading and diminishing as I watched, others growing stronger, throbbing like the artery of a quickening heartbeat. It was minus thirty, but at that moment I was totally oblivious to the cold. All other perceptions fell away and retreated from me as I stood absorbed in my spectating of this wonder.

My experience last night stirred many different sentiments in my breast. Awe at the natural beauty existent in nature, in this frozen wilderness so far from my home in which the aesthetic was palpably present despite its raw harshness. appreciation of the moment of being here and now; terror, at the recognition of my own smallness and insignificance as a human being, in the face of nature's omnipotence. But also there was a feeling of enormous and powerful transition. Standing there, I could physically feel the potency of the change unfolding in the skies above me.

It turned my thoughts toward myself, my own life; toward the changes that had occurred within the own sphere of my existence, this year. In 2017, my life path had passed through so many new and unfamiliar landscapes; had taken me to places in which I had I had been challenged and tested and forced to confront my deepest and most paralysing of fears. There had been moments of sheer terror, of discomfort, of deafening and crippling anxiety. There had been times when it seemed all my hope had receded, like the final few dregs of water in a sun-baked desert. There had been times when I had told myself that I could not physically go on.

But 2017 has been a year of a change. And just like those dancing lights in that breathtaking northern sky, these changes have ultimately, been as exquisite as they have been terrifying.

And I, ultimately and crucially, have been altered and fundamentally changed as a result of all these struggles.

And now I know it is time for me to look forwards towards the new year, and reflect upon the other ways in which I can nurture positive progress and personal change. To look back on the year that seems to have slipped by me now so quickly, like darting troat in a stream. And in doing so to recognise what I have achieved and what I have overcome, and to use that recognition of my own strength to power me forwards now in my ongoing journey up the long and steep mountain.


And that is of what my posts over the new year are going to consist. Looking back and looking forwards. Acknowledging the changes I have already made and reflecting upon the ways in which further changes need to be made.

2018 has the potential to be just like the beautiful Aurora. Bright and beautiful and full of glowing colour. And changing. Ever changing. And this time I know I am ready. I am ready to embrace the change. 💗

2017 💚

I do apologise if some of the details of this are inaccurate...I will have to scoop deep into my memories in order to write these posts ;) and though in many ways last Janaury seems less than a heartbeat ago...simultaneously, it seems like a whole millennium has passed since then. And so much has changed and varied since that very month!

Anyway, time to focus on the task in hand.  💕💕

January

The new year often marks a new beginning for many; a time of potential renewal and change, of new beginnings and fresh starts.

And since Janaury 2017 represented the beginning of what was my eleventh year with my eating disorder, it was with some great earnestness that I regarded the new year and its associations of renewal. And perhaps with some urgency. A new year meant I was another year older. Another year closer to hitting that crucial 30s mark; when peak bone mass would be achieved. Seven years remained for me to get my period and make my own oestrogen, and enable my irreversibly brittle bones to stengthen themselves as much as was possible. For once I hit that tirty mark, there would be no other chances.

Following my relapse in September, I found myself in that familiar state of ambivalence once again. There was that part of me which longed to recover, and was trying to make me turn onto the path of recovery, to commit myself to the painful and difficult process of gaining weight once again. And then there was that part of me which recoiled from doing so. And everytime I made a half-hearted attempt at grasping the reins and taking control of my recovery once again, it wouldn't be long before I found myself wavering, losing grip, and then dropping them onto the ground once again.

But in the early days of 2017 I could feel something builidng up inside me again. Something I had been lacking for what seemed like such a long time.

That being that raw, vehement  determination to beat anorexia; and find that beautiful place in which I could blossom like a new bluebell in a meadow. 💗





Sunday 17 December 2017

Through the Rough Waters

I have to keep going, no matter what. Whether the waters be still or rough I know I cannot give up now.




I have all the reasons to in my head, crystal clear and sharply defined. The reasons to eat  and let my body be what it naturally needs to be. The reasons to recover. Te reasons to ignore the screaming demands of the voice and carve my own ilittle path.

I have all the reasons. I have all the infomation and knowledge. If there was one thing that Emmy can claim to be fairly savvy on, it's anorexia. I know all about the different ways in which it can affect the body as well as I do the shape of my own face in the mirror. I can recite the factors which can come into play in developing the disorder, and could easily give you a concise account of the signs and symptoms to look out for. I know it so well, after all. ed and I have been friends for a long, long time.

So now it's time to act and use that knowledge as power.

But with me there is always... a but after the if. If I choose to recover I will help to improve my osteoporosis. but then the sly voice breaks in.

But you've already caused enormous damage. Your bones are already ruined. Your short and titchy and have an abnormal frame. The damage has already been done, Em. It's too late to start making changes now.

And I always tend to listen to the last part more than the first, to fixate on what it's saying. You're already short and ugly. That's the one that repeats itself more recurrently these days.

I guess it's because I'm so constantly reminded of it. Being within a group of thirteen girls in my accomodation here, no prizes for guessing who is the shortest of all of us. I feel it whenever I am stnaidng beside someone else or when we take a picture out in the snow.

This morning downstairs in the little warm room where we dry our clothes, I stood and stared at the mirror for a very long time. My eyes travelled from the short legs to the small torso and then to the head. I particularly studied the roundness of the face. Another thing that I hate. Why do I have a face that is so fat and round? I thought to myself bitterly. Self-loathing swept over me in an icy wave, chilling me to the bone.

I do feel it here; the constant feeling of inferiority. It's not something anyone here has caused through actions or words. Rather, it's just me and my thoughts. The thoughts that have the potential to kill my happiness and rip it to bloody shreds. Im The shortest one, the ugliest one. I compare myself every day to everyone else and ruminate miserably on my own deficiencies. And what makes it worse is knowing that I could have changed this. Well, maybe not the face, but most certainly my height, and perhaps my frame. For to me it is all just so ugly. Repulsive and unattractive. I search and search but I cannot find a fragment of prettiness - let alone beauty- there.

Part of me wonders as to why I care so much. Why this, in the face of everything I've been through, is liable to make me so, so unhappy.
If I could escape these thoughts, I would do so in a heartbeat. But it's not so easy when they've been there for as long as I can remember.

I remember the last time I thought I looked "pretty". Standing in front of the silvery length of glass which we all know as a mirror, but to me, as much an instrument of torture as the hated scales are.

That was a moment in a past life, before the transition that changed everything. I was twelve years old and was performing in a school play. I had on a blue dress that twirled about when I spun and emphasised my then newly budding breasts.

That was the last time I felt pretty. Ever since that day, I slowly sank into self-hatred, a deep and murky sea out of which it is not so easy to pull oneself out of.

If only I could find the way, because I know that these feelings of inferiority are getting in the way of my recovery. All those ifs and buts. If I gain weight I will help myself but...I don't really see the point, because I am ugly, and putting on more will simply serve to augment the ugliness which is already there.

Why has my happiness always been so tied up in how the world sees me? I could so easily sink now but I know I will not let myself. I have to kick hard and fight to stay afloat, as I know that these waters which I have to swim through, are rough.


Wednesday 13 December 2017

Beautiful horizons... xxx

So long since I last wrote, here on my beloved blog. The blog which has always been more than a blog; more like something of a place of refuge and sanctuary, a place in which I could open the concealed door to my heart and lay bare all my heavy and crippling secrets.

 But the past couple of months passed me by in a swift, streaking blur, seeming to move through the sphere of my existence like a meteorite hurtling at lightning speed through a frozen winter sky. And what a meteorite it was.  It blazed  bright before my eyes like a fragment of molten rock chipped off from the surface of the sun, a rock which had been to be cast by some giant hand towards the earth, and which, on having reached its final destination, had lost not a fraction of its sublimity.

It was vibrant and it was beautiful. But it was also frightening in its intensity.

For me, that was what the latter part of 2017 has been really like. There have been some incredible, unforgettable moments. Moments of such beauty that to look back at them brings happy tears of gratitude to my eyes. There was fear there too and there was uncertainty, but these were intricately balanced by a sense of renewal and change.

For a changed girl I have become. And not only just changed, but changing.

I am writing to you from my shared accomodation in the heart of Finnish Lapland. Yes, I actually got here; and I'm not going to lie by saying that it has been easy.

For by god it has been hard.

The first week I spent here was one of the toughest of my life. It's been a totally and wholly different experience to Barcelona; and one which I would like to talk about in detail very shortly. But today I actaually can hold my head up and say I feel proud. Proud for being brave enough to come out here and once again face the most malignant of all my demons. Because ED wanted to come for the ride, of course. As he always does. I got on that plane and ED was right beside me in the next passenger seat. He was furious. What the hell do you think you are doing? So you think you are strong enough for this, do you? You pathetic girl. I am going to make your life a misery. Of course, the main reason why ED had such a bee in his bonnet, was because he knew that here I would be removed from all familiarity. And one thing ED doesn't like is a change in routine. He likes to know exactly what he is going to do and how he is going to do it.

And I had no clue as to what was going to by lying in wait for us in this frozen, snow-shrouded landscape. No idea as to what the food would be like, what sort of lifestyle I was going to lead there, for the four weeks of my contract with a winter holiday tour specialist here in Finland.

No idea as to whether Id be able to do any sort of exercise, whether I would be able to eat the foods that I usually did eat - or the controlled amounts that I would usually choose to have, back at home - and ED hadnt a clue either. And so you can imagine as to why he was kicking up such a fuss.

But here I am now and one thing I can say is that I am beating back ED. I am coping - more than coping. Im doing well.

There's so much more I want to write on here, but I'll try to all space it out over the course of the next few days so my posts dont get too long.

But one thing I want to say is..I am so happy to be alive. I realise now that it really was worth all the struggles. All the tears I cried and the pain that was so strong, it almost seemed like my heart had been cracked in two. All the anxiety that I put myself through, all the hardship, and all the times that my spirit was nearly broken. So many times were my hopes reduced to nothing more than pieces of chipped, shattered glass; but with each and every time I picked the m up again and doggedly pieced them back together. I suppose that is what got me this far, all along. No matter how many times the little candle flickered and nearly went out, I did not let it die. Instead I nursed it tenderly, no matter how hard the cruel raw wind tore at the  little flame.

And I can sense that change in the air around me now, like the delicate scents of the budding garden in mid spring, when new life springs forth and soft blossoms adorn the swaying branches of the rustling trees.

And with my heart overflowing with hope like sweet water splashing out from a crystal fountain, I look toward the horizon now and think about how beautiful it is. And realise that mine can be just like that too. 💛

A beautiful future could well await me, and I think now I have everything I need to make it so. 💚