Entrapment...

Not far now. The one sentence which I keep repeating to myself, over and over again: sometimes spoken outloud, softly so no one else can hear; sometimes over and over in my head, so that the three words echo and reverberate through the tunnels and passages of my mind.

I am referring, of course, to college. It's the final stretch now of what has proven, once again, to be a difficult and painful year for me. The essays are all done, now. All that remains are the exams, which i now lok towards with fear, dread, and apprehension. But behind all that fear and the doubt and the uncertainty, there burns this one small, barely distinguishable, but fervent light. I fix that light in my mind's eye, now, protecting it as I would a fragile little candle with its tiny, flickering flame.

Summer. The season of warmth and colour and sunlight. The season of long, sun-soaked days of sublimity and cloudless skies, when the blazing orb of the sun casts down its rays of gold and liquid amber to caress the shimmering face of the earth. The season, that can be seen to revive each and every part of that world. The idyllic country garden or the pebbly, windswept beach; the lonely  mountain top or the bustling city. The season....the season of freedom.

But I chose not to go away this summer. Mam and Dad will be going to Mallorca again; but this time, I will not be going with them. And it is not because I do not want to. With every inch of my heart and soul I wish that I too will be sitting in the car with them, with my battered sunhat and faded flipflops and mucky runners wrapped up in an unsightly plastic bag. But when mam and dad were arranging the holiday and finalising their decision about whether theywere going or not, I was in the depths of my relapse. When Mam asked me that anticipated, dreadful question, on that bleak rainy day last October - that being, of course, if I would like to come with them to our long-established favourite holiday spot - my immediate reaction was one in which I experienced an assortment painful, conflicted feelings. Sadness and longing, fear, anxiety, desperation. But, most of all, the sharp, throbbing ache of regret.

I desperately yearned to reach out to her, then. To make her realise…just how badly, I wanted to go with them. Mallorca. Beautiful, untainted, unforgettable  Mallorca: that little gem of an island set in the sapphire blue waters of the Mediterranean . But I can no longer hear that picturesque island’s name, without feeling the hot and bitter tears of remorse fill my eyes; without reflecting, with a heavy heart, upon the extent to which that single word evokes for me a series of painful and memories. Memories of tears and anger and pain, where there should have only been joy and laughter and happiness. Of the chill, the chill that had encased my heart in ice and stole the glow of pure, blissful happiness from my cheeks ; a chill which into even the glorious radiance of that Mediterranean sun could not eradicate; or even touch. Because every single time that I went to Mallorca, i know that Ed was there with me. With me, every time I sat with my family in our favourite restaurant in the little square, whispering into my ear and filling my head with its lies. Lies, of what was going to happen to me; if I dared to order that meal which sounded so scrumptious; if I dared to even attempt to break through the unfathomable spell of its fear. With me, each and every time I would slip off my top and shorts and immerse my body in the cool, rippling waters of the pool outside the villa. I was its ever obedient subject, its most unquestioning and piteously compliant servant, completely and helplessly subordinated to the force of its will and the strength of its malevolent power. One lap would swiftly lead to another; each stroke, becoming faster and more vigorous with every breath that I managed to take. On and on I would go, surging through that water until my lungs felt like they were going to burst and I would be left gasping and floundering like a fish entrapped in a net. 

I hope with all my heart though that this summer will be long and golden and beautiful. But there is something which I want to...I want to feel this summer, which I have never, for the past ten summers of my life, have been permitted I want this Summer to be different...this time, I want something to change.

Because yesterday I turned twenty two and I realise that I don't want to remain entrapped, no more. I have been entrapped for almost half of my life... This Summer I want to be free.

i was not free, the first time i went to Mallorca, all those years ago in 2009. Neither was I when I returned back to that special island, several years later in 2014. Then,in 2015, last year, I went back to Mallorca for the third time, with a new, "recovered", body..

2014- start of my recovery journey

 2014

2015

And even though people would look at me, and think, there's a happy, healthy, "normal" girl...
They couldn't see the storm that raged deep inside...

They couldn't see the chains that bound my heart and soul and mind.
For then, even then...I was anything but free.

The storm will pass...

A massive thank you to everyone who wrote to me yesterday via comments and emailing - you made me feel so much better and the kindness and consideration you displayed in taking the time to write to me really touched my heart. Thank you so, so, SO much! And now, thanks to you, I have found the courage and the determination deep inside me to pick myself up, dust myself down, and keep on moving forward on the road of recovery.

And today, I am so glad to say,  things ARE alot, lot better - and as I sit writing to you now, it is almost as if the tears and hot anger of Monday never even happened.

I have told this to myself many times before, and I might have evn written a post at this stage, as well - but I'm going to put it out there again, as it's something which I myself need to CONSTANTLY remind myself of, and may be of help to many others who are struggling, too.

It's true, EVERYONE has their bad days. I don't think there is anyone out there right now, recovered or recovering from an eating disorder, who can say that it is all just plain sailing. It isn't. It is a difficult, often rough, and sometimes very stormy journey. And yes, there will be the days when the clouds gather in and the rain will lash down, and it might seem that you are eternally lost in an oppressive, inter-pentrable fog, of which there seems to be no end. In the heat of the moment, things can often appear MUCH worse than they actually are.

But always remember, the storm will pass. Tough times don't last, but tough people do. <3 xxx

It is very, very easy to fall into the trap of negative thinking whenever you are having a really bad day: I feel awful now; I will feel awful, forever.  I will never be happy again. She won't speak to me aver again now. They will never forgive me for what I have done.

My advice to you is to not believe these voices that run through your head, regardless of how convincing they are, or if a good 90% percent of you is in total agreement with them. DONT give in to them: allow yourself to have hope. And don't isolate or withdraw into yourself. Even if it's just a text or a Facebook message, talk to someone who you trust and who cares about you. And know that it is okay to cry.

When I woke up yesterday morning, I felt so drained, miserable and hopeless that all I wanted to do was to pull the sheet up right over my head once more and just stay there, stay there until the night came again - no food, no communication, no nothing - and then finally emerge once everyone else was going to sleep, so that noone would see me, or speak to me. A ridiculous notion, I know, but this time yesterday morning, that single thought was very vivid and clear in my head. But did I go along with it? No, I did not. The storm was raging inside my head, icy rain trickled down my cheeks as I contemplated what I should do.

There is nothing you can do, the Voice whispered, its voice cutting through the rush of pent-up emotions like a razor-sharp icicle being forced through soft, freshly-fallen snow. They all hate you. You will be miserable forever. There's no point to anything, now. There's nothing left to fight for. A massive proportion of me echoed that voice, believing, agreeing.

But before I really and truly did give in to my despair, I realised that there was another voice, too. Barely audible, weak, and wavering - but yet, it was still there, all the same. That voice said that there was hope.That I had come too far to just give up now. That I should get up out of my bed and face the day and have courage. To not isolate myself from my family, making no attempt at talking to them: in fact, to do the exact opposite. To stay strong and keep my head up, and to believe that, just as all my former storms and bad days and tough times did so, that this storm could and would pass.

And pass, it did. 

Yesterday I did a number of things, that helped me to get through that storm and enable me to step into the light once again. Firstly, I wrote a blog post. It helped me so, so much to just clear my head and get my emotions out onto paper; and then , of course, the support and words of advice that I received through the comments really made me feel so, so much better, and braver. I talked to several of my friends on Facebook and received their adv ice and thoughts as well. And then come noon, I had summoned up enough courage to actually go outside instead of just hanging round the villa, trying to keep out of everyone's way. I put myself out there, I went an talked to my family instead of just trying to avoid them. And by the evening time., the tension had eased, Mam was smiling at me again, we had a nice dinner with conversation and even some laughter: the storm had passed and I felt the sunshine upon my face once more.

There are only a few more days left, now, until my holiday here in mallorca is over, though I know that my journey of recovery continues on, winding and weaving like the narrow, steep country roads that encircle the cliffs of Cap de Formentor, the nothernmost part of the island of Mallorca - an island which will always hold a very special place in my heart; and to which I will bid a fond farewell as our plane ascends into that glorious cobalt sky on Saturday evening.

But as one of my readers pointed out to me yesterday, my return home poses an ideal opportunity for me to start afresh once more, in regards to fighting ED and keeping to the meal plan, and making myself stronger, healthier (physically and mentally), and happier.

When I return home I want to make a fresh start in...

• following my meal plan - I have been doing alot better with it, but there's still stuff that I need to work on. Such as, making stuff for myself and eating alone(whenever I am unaccompanied or without support, I often end up being stingey or minimalist when making myself a meal or portioning out a snack...or if it's the latter, sometimes just skipping it and going without), morning snack, eating what I want to have rather than what I think I SHOULD have (big difference!!) , etc. 
• Start doing hobbies that I really enjoy, old and new
• Continue to blog to my heart's content:) and, having written just a little of my Morokia summary last night, as well as having just finished a medieval type story of knights and damsels and intricate historical detail, I am eager to have another "stab" (haha) at writing my trilogy again.
• Start volunteering
• Make a decision in regard to Trinity and, if I am not going back, to do some research and find out what options do I have.
• To just enjoy the rest of the summer with my family and friends and wee animaux :) <3 xxx 

Walking in the mountains with Mam and Bennty, not long before the weekend we left for Mallorca <3 xxx

Picking up the pieces..:'(

this was a hard and painful thing for me to write, and I did hesistate in sharing this post with you today, but as I have said before, I dont want my blog to become yet another facade under which I can hide behind like a beetle under a rock; I dont want to have to wear yet another mask of my own making on My Cocoa Stained Apron...that's not what my blog is about. Rather, it is a place where I write from my heart and am open and honest about my feelings, where I can reach out to others and implore them to do the exact same. For I think we all know that wearing all those masks and creating all those facades burdens the soul and bears down upon the heart.

I write this with tears in my eyes, because I feel as if I was so, so close to achieving what I had been yearning for: a perfect holiday, with no upset, fights, tears  or disagreements. But yesterday destroyed all my hopes of that. To be brutally honest yesterday was an awful day. And I suppose the pain is even worse, because I feel as if it was completely out of my control, what happened yesterday. And it wasn;t because I messed up, it wasnt because I refused to eat or paniced at a restaurant or went off cycling for three hours plus and got caught in the act: no. But I think ED was in there, somewhere: subtly entwined into the things I said and the things I did yesterday. And overhanging it all is the knowledge that I could have avoided this..I could have prevented it. But those three demons of my own making - those being, my depression, my immaturity, and of course my eating disorder - were either too strong for me to fight against, or I too weak to oppose them.

Yesterday got off to a bad start: I woke up feeling really down. Not really for any apparent, or logical, reason: but as I looked up the weather forecast online to read that it was going to be yet another hot, sticky, sweltering day, with temperatures ranging from 35 to 38 degrees celsius in blistering heat, I couldnt help but groan inwardly. The heat has been really getting to me on this trip much more so than it has done in the past, and as I sat and contemplated another scorching hot day at the villa, doing the same old things that I have done for the past week and a half - for noone except me seemed interested in going sightseeing or actually leaving the villa, and I of course was too embarrassed to speak up - I began to feel more and more down, thinking of home, of the soft cool breezes of the Irish summer, thinking of Benny and Maisy and Felix, and just yearning to be back at home with them. I have enjoyed my time here, but it has been too long, for me.

And the day just got worse and worse from that point onwards: a number of things happened then, which further augmented the building sense of depression welling up inside me, threatening to overwhelm and submerge every other feeling in suffocating, engulfing waves. It was a scorching day, and I felt sick and wishy-washy and had to sit inside after lunch with the AC on. At snack time noone offered to support me again:it was as if they had completely forgotten about me and what I should be having. We had had a somewhat tense discussion the other night about my future and  treatment once we return home, and the conversation had sat heavily on my mind all day, filling me with doubt, melancholy, and immense apprehension. And then, to top it all off, we were eating out that evening. I did not want to go, but I wanted to put on a brave face. However when it came to washing and brushing my hair, I discovered that it had become very matted and tangled during the course of the day, and now ressembled a blonde streaked brown bush of sorts when I went to go and brush it out. After about 40 minutes - no word of a lie, for that is exactly how long it took - of brushing and futile detangling, I was hot with frustration and angry tears burned my eyes, threatening to fall. You are such a BABY!! a voice screamed at the back of my head. Crying about knotted hair!!

The evening was ruined for me, basically: I sat in the restaurant that night and said not a word, having come under hevy critcism from Mam for looking and acting so miserable. I think she mistakedly assumes that the main cause of my distress  was having to eat out, but there, this time, she was wrong. That was only just one of the coals tossed into the fire,  a fire which simmers and burns with sickly, heavy, oppressing heat.

Now it is morning and I am wide awake, despite the fact I slept for about 5 hours last night, despairing and miserable about the one day that destroyed everything: my positive approach to the holiday, the peace and tranquillity I had managed to uphold so far, and, of course, the possibility that this holiday could almost have been a really, really lovely one. One free of any discord, rows, fights or heated arguments. But the words exchanged last night testify to me that this is not the case. My little bubble of positivity has been ruthlessly burst: my happiness, once again, broken and shattered into fragments before my very eyes. And now I am left to pick up the pieces and try to move forward. The thing is, I don't know what moving forward actually is.

To get a job? To try and go back to college, with the little money or funding that I have? To keep on going to the hospital in the knowledge that they have done all that they can possibly do for me, in terms of my recovery? I thought initially before writing this post today, that I had only one demon: one terrible, hideous, crippling demon. But it turns out I have three: I know I do, and they are ruining me. Yesterday was merely a snapshot of just how much control and influence they have over my life. Just how exactly do I move forward and pick up the pieces, and patch together my torn, broken heart?

I can choose to be...the passenger or the pilot...

The first week at Villa Selene has almost been and gone. A week tomorrow me, Mam and Dad will be clambering on the plane which will bring us back to Ireland, and home.

A few weeks before our departure for the airport, I was struggling hard to conceal my apprehension about the upcoming holiday from my parents and friends. Unpleasant images from holidays in the past flitted across my mind's eye, further fueling the burning sensations of fear and apprehension that coursed through my body. Endless rows and heated disagreements which would always end in nothing but tears, angry glances, and then me isolating myself for many days at the least, if not for the remainder of the holiday. Crying spells in the night, of a despair so sharp, it wounded me more than any weapon or sharp object ever could have done. of wandering out from the villa first thing in the morning with tears streaming down my face, forcing myself to walk or cycle furiously until my limbs and joints were screaming for mercy, until I felt ready to collapse out of sheer exhaustion.

And, of stepping that close to the edge of the cliff face at the headland of Formentor, to look out over the edge at that depthless expanse of sapphire blue hundreds of feet below me, broken by sharp, jagged rocks, as sharp and as pitiless as the talons of an eagle. Where those waves met the crooked outline of the coast, the water churned and roiled into white-tipped, foamy waves that crashed and roared as furiously as the misery and wretchedness that crashed in my own skull, but, beyond that, towards the horizon where the sea met the sky on that beautiful, terrible day when I felt as close to taking my own life as my feet were to the precipice at which I stood by, the waters were as calm and as still as the silence of death.

But, in the space of just over a year, now, my life has been changed before my very eyes, as has the way that I see my life andthe world, and the place I have upon it.

I realise now, that it was not Emmy who went on holidays all those times, and caused so much upset and hurt and discord. It was Emmy with an eating disorder who stepped on that plane every time. It was her eating disorder which caused all those arguments, fights and endless tears, who caused all the pain, all the heartbreak, all the unhappiness.

I guess back then I was the passsenger...the passenger of my eating disorder, who would choose every single route and path for me; would dictate every single thought in my head; would govern every action and manouvre I would make.

But NOW, I am determined top become the pilot...I need to be the one in control.

This is the seventh day of my holiday now. And you know, I am glad that I decided to be brave and say that I would come.

I admit that it isnt easy - far from it, and every day poses its own little set of challenges, as the ongoing battle between me and the Voice in my head commences - but every day I plough onwards and do everything in my power to defy my ED. It's hard and sometimes I am not quite strong enough, and don't feel brave enough to have a large dollop of peanut butter on my toast like I would really love to; or sometimes, as I go to chop up a whole bar of galaxy chocolate to sprinkle on my banana and custard, a little Voice creeps into my head and before I know it I have put one - just one of the six squares of the bar - back into the packet, folded it over and put it back in the cupboard, simultaneously "agreeing" with the Voice that I surely would not be able to eat six rectangles of chocolate. I can just about manage the five, but six would be much, much too much. I mean...logically, what kind of nonsense is that? One rectangle more isn't going to make any difference whatsoever, and thinking about it now I realise how silly I was for doing that.

So of course, there have been those few times when Ed did win the fight and I didnt and complied with its demands. But there have also been victories, too, victories which I am proud of and are helping me to become stronger and braver in this fight with my ED.

Yesterday was a really, really lovely day, and one on which I did something which I think was a really positive step against my eating disorder, and which, now that I have done it, I know that I will feel confident and happy to do again and again. I suggested to my Aunty that we all go for Ben and Jerry's by the seafront that afternoon, and so we all hopped into the car, granny included, and drove down to the seaside town of Port de Pollenca, just five or so minutes away. I got one of my all time favourite flavours, the famous cookie dough with its divine chunks of chocolate chip biscuit, and it was as scrumptiously irresistible as I fondly remembered. (haven't had Ben and Jerry's for what seems like a very,very long time!!!) It was a perfect holiday moment, and I felt so, so happy. A perfect moment with my loved ones by the sea, the soft, gentle breeze stirring my hair and tenderly carrying away the burdens of my heart.

Enjoying my Ben and Jerry's with my loved ones yesterday!

Holiday challenges..

It's now about quarter past 8 here in Mallorca and I'm sitting at the little patio table outside the villa, the beautiful, fragrantly-scented bower above my head alive with chirping house sparrows, their sweet music backed by the faint gurglings of the coffe machine in the kitchen and the soft tappings of my laptop keys. The early morning sky is crystal-like in its perfection: blue, clear and depthless, with a shimmering ball of gold rising majestically to the east - a priceless polished coin of gold floating through an endless, still ocean of the purest azure.

It's the third day of the holiday and I thought I would use this post as a reflection on the challenges that I want to address at this point and share some advice based on my experience and what I have learned from it.

Over the past few days I have become more aware of my own weak spots and what I am most likely to struggle with, being here in my new environment - different house, different climate, different food and different routine.

• I know this might sound strange for some but for me, the heat sometimes makes it more difficult to stick to my mealplan. If I sit out in the sun for too long I begin to feel sickly and light-headed and then this affects my appetite. There is always the temptation to have "Light" foods only on holidays like salad and yoghurt and fruit and convince oneself that this is what you really want (and yeah, maybe it is...but it certainly is NOT all the time!!). Like for me as you know I am the biggest chocolate/hot chocolate fan in the world...but the first day the Voice in my Head tried to tel me it is to warm to have either, even though I wanted to have them. 
• The meal times are different then the ones at home - lunch and dinner are eaten later- and this in turn effects my snack times.
• Its hard for me to find some of the things that I eat at home and which I really enjoy...and personally, I find a meal plan very hard to stick to, if there is stuff on it which I dont like. 
• For lunch at home me and my family would usually have sandwiches or filled baps or something similar but here, things are different, its more a sort of buffet thing with bread and different meats and salad and suchlike and you are supposed to go in and help yourself. Which I find pretty tough.
• Oftentimes I am the only one having snacks and milky drinks which can be difficult too.
• My Mam and my Auntie are very much into fitness and training which can be very triggering as well, whenI am exposed to it on a daily basis.

Plan of how I am going to Overcome these challenges:

• Well firstly, the most sensible thing is NOT to sit in the sun for too long!!! I love being out in thesun but sitting directly in it, if I was honest, I find boring and not really that pleasant. There is plenty of things you can do to keep yourself cool - spraying with a cold hose or having a cold shower , having a dip or a swim in a pool (but NOT overexercising and only swimming if you want to/feel like it/an exercise!!!). After a dip in the pol here my habit is to sit in the sun till Im dry and then to go and sit in the shade. And by doing this you are less likely to become too hot and your appetite wont be affected!!
• To be honest, I havent let the hot weather put me off having hot chocolate - my eating disorder would have liked it to have, but I wasnt going to let it!! ;) but I have also bought in some chocolate milk which I also love and can enjoy ice cold if i so wish.
• And just asking yourself when you find yourself tending to always have the "lighter" options. Is this really what you want?Do you really want to have salad again for the third time in a row say..or is there a tiny voice at the back of your brain saying that really, you would love a Spanish omelette?? I am going to give you some advice a dear friend once told me: when you hear that little voice, not the Voice of your ED - but your voice, the voice of your very own heart, which you know, deep down, is the voice which is telling you to do what is right - then GRAB ON to that voice and GO WITH IT. Don't wait, hesitate or deliberate. Just go with your heart and AGAINST your eating disorder!! I know, for some, it might be hard to distinguish between your own desires and that of your ED's...but I strongly believe that if you look deep inside yourself, deep inside your very own heart, you WILL know.
• Ask for help and support with meals or snacks that you find difficult, like I did today, I sat next to Mam at lunch and she helped me to decide what to have and a suitable amount too, which I was grateful. The only thing that bothers me of course, is that I feel that I should be able to do this myself, but at present, I dont feel quote strong enough to. So I am very lucky that I have my Mam to help me with that <3 
• In regard to being the only one eating and being triggered by other people exercising. this is something that I find really hard to deal with myself, and I am sure I am not the only one. But I know that in this regard we have to focus on ourselves. To not be like sheep and feel like we have to do what everyone else is doing, eat what everyone else is eating, make food choices based on what everyone else has chosen. Why do we feel like we have to do that??

You're not a sheep...you are YOU and you should NEVER have to feel like you have to act or be like someone else!!!!

I'm Here!!! :) xxx

Hi everyone!!!:)
First things first…thank you so, so much for the comments and words of support and well-wishes posted here over the past few days <3 what can I say, I was so, so overwhelmed by such a poignant display of kindness and generosity…it really touched my very heart and I just wanted to all offer you all a sincere and massive thank you, you are all just so, so, so AMAZING and it is all for YOU which I dedicate this post today!!

I apologise if my blogging is  abit on the scattered side at the moment as well ;) As you might have guessed, the past few days I was preparing for the holiday and catching up on myself, and now, here I am, sitting writing to you from my room in a gorgeous country villa in North Mallorca. Blogging on the move is fun and exciting and I am really looking forward to sharing my adventures with you for the next couple of weeks.

And as also mentioned, this is the holiday to which ED is NOT invited, at any place, at any time, no matter the circumstances. I am determined more than ever to make this so, especially following the surge of support and encouragement I have received from my readers. <3 I think this is also the perfect occasion to reflect on what I can do to help myself while I am away and keep ED pushed down into the dirt where it belongs!!! I hope that by sharing my experience and advice I might be able to help any one else out there who might be holidaying or travelling while suffering with an eating disorder. I COMPLETELY understand just how difficult this might be as for the past 8 years I went away with my parents and, unfortunately, ED sitting contently on my shoulder, whispering in my ear and dominating every thought that ran through my head, ever decision that I made, every action that I did. And each and everyone of those holidays were, of course, tainted by that Voice in my Head, meaning that there were tears when there should have been laughter, anger when there should have been joy, rows and disagreements when there should have been nothing but harmony and accord. I regret these things, I regret them with all my heart, and there I wish for nothing more than to be able to go back in time and change everything, make everything better, guide myself down the right path instead of falling into the arms of Ed and letting him direct me, instead, every living moment of every single hour of every single day.

But I know that I cant , of course, travel back in time, and that those days are gone, now, never to be relived. All that I have are the memories, the regrets, and the hate. The hate I feel for that demon in my head, which has wrecked my bones and given me the body of an ancient, which has caused me and all those I love untellable amounts of painand heartache and misery, and has essentially imprisoned me in a web of deception and deceit, depression and isolation for all of my adolescence and beyond…

But this one fact remain true: we should take that hate and use it to make us strong, strong against the Voice that seeks to hurt us, to betray us, to ruin us and destroy us. And we should use that strength to fight that Voice with every single breath that we take, so that we can finally spread our wings and fly, like the beautiful butterfly finally liberated from the suffocating confines of its cocoon…

 Anyway, that’s it for now- just a quick little post to say where Im at and what Im up to, and of course, to thank you personally from the heart, again and again and again. <3 xxx

Mallorca... <3 xxx


Normal blogging will (hopefully!! ;) ) resume tomorrow. (If my blogging style can be described as anyweher near normal, heehee!! ;) Good night everyone!!! <3 xxx

No room for you any longer, Ed...

In a few days time, I will be scrambling into the back of Daddy's jeep, dressed, more than likely, in my usual attire of a dress and skechers (I know, like sooo unfashionable...but when you are like me and have a dodgy knee and fragile feet to match, more often than not the pumps or the fancy heels or whatever are going to be ditched for a good ol' pair of runners!!! ) and with my leopard-print girly sunglasses, balanced, in a somewhat haphazard position on top of my head, ready to fall with a glorious clatter - it will probably be the hundredth and something time they would have done so, ever since I bought them back in March!!) - at any second. At my side, I will have a wide-ranging and extensive little assortment of items to keep me entertained for the duration of the car journey - knitting needles and tangled balls of wools or various different colour shades; a couple of chunky reading books textures and thicknesses; journals and diaries, big and small, dog-eared and pristine, each one designated for a different purpose or function. This is how the Ganache-Elf goes on holidays. She ALWAYS brings more junk than she really needs and forgets the stuff that she actually does.

This will be my fourth holiday in Mallorca; that beautiful gem of Mediterranean radiance which holds, for me, so many memories. Some of those memories are infinitely precious and make my eyelids prickle with unshed tears if I were ever to think of them. Happy, beautiful memories of days full of sun and sand and happiness; if golden beaches and grey-skinned olive trees in their neat little groves; cobalt blue skies and the sound of our laughter mingling with the cries of the swifts wheeling in the sky and the humming of crickets crouched in the grass.

But the other kind of memories I associate with mallorca also make me want to cry, but in a different sort of way to before. Because I have memories, there, memories of being a girl with an ED, a girl with an ED on holiday. Who couldn't relax and enjoy herself, because behind that smile she flashed at the camera, behind the protective frames of her sunglasses which she wore to conceal her facial expression, behind all the giggles, the laughter, the joy and the excitement and the outward show of complete and utter carefree happiness - lay something dark, deadly and destructive; that being, of course, ED, ED at his very worse, ED seeking to control and spoil the holiday with my loved ones, in every single way. On holidays with my ED, I would overexercise, cry and create a scene in restaurants, refuse to try local specialities and delicacies, reluctantly eat ice cream and then compensate desperately at the next given opportunity, shut myself away from everyone else, isolate, block out, and hurt, hurt myself, my body, and everyone around me. It tore at my soul, it broke my heart and caused me so much pain, to see just how much I was impinging on their happiness, and their enjoyment of the holiday - but yet, I just couldn't stop. On nearly every single family holiday, there was many a night when I would cry and sob into a spotless white pillow of the villa or hotel of holiday home; stricken with guilt, wrecked with unhappiness, torn with self-hatred and shame.

My holiday in Mallorca last year...but I want things to be different now...

So many holidays, so many memories...of myself, and my family, on holiday, with my ED.

I never want that to happen, ever, ever AGAIN.

My friend, as we hugged one another more fiercely than ever today, in the knowledge that we would not see eachother for a fortnight or so, whispered something in my ear; a piece of advice which I am determined more than ever to take to my heart.

You are going to have a great time. Emmy. You are going to be just fine. And just remember. you're going to get on that plane and this time, there is going to be no seat, no room for ED. 

All set for my holiday! And I know, that there will be challenges and anxieties...But nothing I cannot overcome <3 and I hope that by facing my fears and sharing my thoughts, advice and experiences while away, I will be able to help anyone anyone else out there wit an ED, and prove that, despite all the odds, recovery is possible!!

So let's stand together now and take action, as no one, not one person on this planet, should be forced to make room for an eating disorder, and all the pain, all the suffering, all the bitterness that it brings into their life...<3 xxx