Catching dreams...

This morning I feel as if I am floating beneath fluffy, dove-white clouds. Clouds which may be thin and transparent; others, thick, solid, almost tangible. I drift between them like a pollen grain, suspended in the summer wind's soft breath.

All these clouds represent different things to me. Some seem fully formed and others, not so much. They represent to me my dreams and hopes. And how I long to alight upon each one of them.

But landing upon a cloud is a very difficult thing. Some may look solid but I know that they are not. If I were to reach out with my hands to catch one of them, I am afraid it will break apart in my hands. Disperse into a million tiny pieces, leaving me with a heavy heart and the remnants of a broken dream.

Is it really worth it to chase your dreams? Will they not escape you, evade you every time?

But that's not what I am willing to allow myself to believe.

My dreams. True recovery. To free myself, wholly and completely, from the Voice inside my head.  To conquer every single one of the demons which are still holding me down.

There are other dreams, dreams which I have held for a long time, but which I have never been able to catch hold of, since they are directly linked to the first one. To complete Morokia and to share my story with millions of readers worldwide. To find a job that I love and that I am good at, and to be at the healthiest that I could ever hope to be. Perhaps even to write my own story, one of recovery and strength and hope. And then there are dreams of being in a relationship and newfound love. Of places  I want to go to, sights and wonders that I want to see.

But I know that to achieve these other dreams I need to seek out the first one. Because without true recovery, I know I will only ever be able to brush the mere lining of those other clouds with my fingers.

But how will I ever be able to catch that beautiful dream? It seems to always just escape me , to hang just that little bit out of reach. Sometimes, it seems so close I can almost touch it, to taste its sweet delicateness upon my tongue, to feel its soft touch against my burning, yearning skin. Other times, it seems as cold and as distant as the snow-adorned mountain, a mountain so harsh and icily hostile that I recoil from ever attempting to reach its summit.

But I know that it has been long since I started to climb that very same mountain. I may only be halfway, but I am there, instead of being at the bottom. At one time I could only stare in wretched wonder, wishing that I had the courage to begin that long ascent.

And then I did.

But now I am halfway again at the point which I as never before able to cross. Just where does the path lead from here? The clouds are still far above me, shrouding the mountain peak with their billowy, feather light forms. But it's such a long road, to keep going along. And at times it seems so relentlessly, bone-wearily hard.

Both mountain peak and dreamy white clouds are still so far away, from me.
How can I ever hope to reach them? Catching them in itself now seems like such a beautiful yet impossible dream.

But I have something now which I did not have before. A new determination to give this fight all that I have got. To go into this battle with courage and hope aflame in my heart like a flaring torch. I am going to beat you, Ed. I am going to beat you, or go down still fighting.

Recovery is my new priority, my mission. And, if I fail, then at least noone can say that I did not try.

My Barcelona experience has helped me pinpoint my course of action in a number of ways. It's helped me to realise several things: about myself, my recovery, and what steps I need to take as I strive to move forward. It's reminded me that I still have so much work to do, yet. There were countless challenges and obstacles lying in wait for the girl with anorexia there, all of which reared their ugly heads on my wary, hesitant approach. Some of these challenges I managed to beat back down, overcoming them with the strength of my own purpose, my determination. Yet there were others which I fought against and lost. There were times when my attempts at fighting back were simply just not good enough, leaving me weakened, with only enough strength to vainly bang my fist against the unyielding surface, before being knocked to the ground and cast aside. Recovery was harder, there, away from the comforting, familiar surroundings of my home. I had to constantly keep my guard up high, and there was certainly more than one time when I let it slip and fall.

But. Aside from that. There was another thing that Barcelona reminded me. A fact that somewhere sometime I had realised, before, but did not nourish enough to fully acknowledge. above all Barcelona  reminded me that I truly have the power to do anything. Anything, if I set my heart and mind and soul to it.

Did I not climb the Via Ferreda, having not done anything remotely like proper rock climbing before? Did I not get thrown in at the deep end on my first day of teaching, having not been given any proper training or induction, only to walk into that classroom regardless to greet my pupils with a smile as if I had been doing this for all of my life? And did I not take the greatest leap of my life, by stepping onto that plane in the very first place? That step was so much more than a literal step, for me. It symbolised strength and resolution and enormous courage. It meant that I was facing my greatest ever fears, but yet despite my trepidation and terror, I was still going ahead and doing it, anyway.

And it is in this light I should see my recovery. My recovery, and the seizing of my dreams in trembling, exuberant hands.

I know deep down I have the power to do anything...

Anything, including this battle, and this long, long climb to reach the clouds. 💗xxx

My Goals, Hopes and Dreams...for 2016...xxx

Happy New Year everyone!! <3

Now, I know I have already talked a little about what I hope to achieve in 2016... But today, I thought I would compose this wee outline of my 2016 goals and dreams...in collaboration with a very, very special friend of mine who lives all the way across the North Sea... ;)

I could write page upon page of the things I love about Ange. Her ready smile and loving heart. Her ability to make me laugh till my sides ache, even on my most darkest and hardest of days. Her love of Nutella and her wicked sense of humour. Her beautiful, inspiring, incredible blog where she writes of her struggles and victories in her ongoing fight against her own eating disorder.One single blog post isn't quite enough to express just how special Ange is and how lucky I feel to have her as a friend. <3 if you do one thing today, please check out amazing blog. It will make you laugh, it will make you cry, it will make you fall in love with Nutella again. It will compel you to look at recovery with fresh new eyes and realise the sheer power and strength that lies deep within the heart of every single one of us. <3 xxx

1.) My first goal is one which undoubtedly constitutes one of the most crucial and fundamental decisions I could ever possible afford to make for myself.

That being, of course, to make 2016 the year when I break free.

The year when I break through all those cruel and heavy chains; push aside all the thick and impassable barriers. The year when I tear down the walls which have imprisoned me for so, so long; the year when I let go of all the pain and the regret and the intense and bitter sadness. The year when I conquer all my fears and destroy my greatest ever nemesis: this monster, this monster which lives inside my very head; this malign, pitiless, tyrannically brutal demon which, for the past ten years, came so close to almost destroying me.

But now the tables have turned on you, ED...

I will be your prisoner for no longer.

I know that it would be unrealistic of me to say, that 2016 is going to be the year in which I fully and completely recover from the illness which I have had for almost half of my life. Recovery, as we all know, is a process that doesn;t take place within a few weeks or months; rather, it requires perseverant, dedicated, and steadfast commitment over a lengthy and  usually extensive period of time. But that said...I want this year to mark a crucial turning point in my recovery journey. I want to make progress this year...real, concrete progress...more so than I ever have done before.

2.)Take MORE photos with my super cool, battery-devouring, weatherbeaten relic of a digital camera (yes, happy birthday to my camera!! I have had it for almost 10 years!! :o ;)

Now I wouldn't consider myself skilled in any way at all in the photography side of things. Taking photos is, for me, something which requires a considerable amount of willpower: as I find it incredibly infuriating at the best of times. I'm that annoying, fumbling, tourist-reminiscent individual with the camera out in the forest or up to her knees in mud in some swamp like patch of bogland, who keeps on stopping to take pictures of everything and anything, an undertaking accompanied by frequent groans and muttered grumblings about  how feckin' terrible her photography skills are. Though it's safe to say: I do really enjoy it, all the same...I get so much pleasure put of taking random pictures!! ;) even though I do wish my photography adventures could prove a bit more fruitful at times! ;)

Trying to take pics up in the mountains on Sunday...!!! ;)

3.)To be more tidy and organised.. I am actually neither of these things, despite the fact that others have often mistakenly assumed that I am so. I am not...you should see my room..general clutter and mess all over the place. ;) But I really want to change this as actually, my own disorganization and untidiness is believe it or not, often an indirect cause of stress or anxiety for me...eg. not being able to find the important papers that I need as they are all mixed up with the other ones in my bag; or being under pressure as I have l;left everything to do till the last minute and I'm running out of time - whether that be in the kitchen, in general, college stuff, etc.

4.) In 2016, I want to rediscover the real Emmy. Not the sad, negative, depressed, weepy Emmy whose fake smile always hides a hundred tears. No..I want, this year, to find the real Emmy.  the positive, chirpy, happy, bubbly girl with roses in her cheeks and laughter dancing in her eyes. Because that's the girl who I know that I really am...but it feels right now as if that girl has been submerged in layer upon layer pf thick, inter-penetrable, grey fog. But this year...this year, I am going to do everything in my power to push through that fog, drive all of those heavy, oppressive clouds away. And let the sunlight fall upon my face again.

5.) Improve my self-esteem..by doing a few things which I think wil definitely help me as outlined in my previous post on self-esteem. Namely, volunteering, and taking up a new hobby, keeping up the hobbies and pasttimes I love, and to not be afraid to reachout for support.

6.) Dispense with a.) obsessiveness, b.) perfectionism (to quote my close friend: "perfectionism is a bitch Em!" I could NOT agree more with her..wise words hun <3 ), and c.) negativity!!! :D

7.) Be more adventurous in my baking and cooking!!! Over Christmas I had such fun trying out new recipes and ideas which I had never tried making bbefore..and I fully intend to continue this on into the new year ;)

6.) And of course...one of my biggg wishes for this year <3 go to Disneyland with Ange in the spring/summer....OMGGGGG :o ;) <3 xxxxxxx

The Year that I make the Change...xxx

I thought today I would write out...my hopes for 2016. Because as I was saying in my post from a couple of days ago... I want 2016 to be my year. The year I beat ED....destroy it forever. The year I really make that crucial change and become the person I want to be.

because I know, of course, that there are still so many remnants of ED present in my life, clinging, like some sort of hideous, malignant, toxic fungus, to my identity. But there is no longer any part of me, which wants those remnants to remain. Rather, I want them all to be destroyed: wholly and completely, without one single spore or strain remaining.

This time last year, it was nearly the end of Christmas 2014: a year which had been so, incredibly hard for me, in a number of different ways. But the one thing that I had to hold things together, as the sparkling lights which had been lit in my heart by the joy and excitement of Christmas gradually began to dim to fade and die to be replaced by the heavy, oppressing darkness of January  - a January which promised, for me anyway, assessments and appointments ,and, very likely, imminent hospitalisation - was that one slender, flickering hope, that 2015 would be the year when I would be healed, completely and wholly, of my eating disorder. That the hospital would cure me of my problems and I would never, ever again allow myself to lapse into the deadly embrace of ED. I know that this was unrealistic and wishful thinking on my part. But it was all I had. I clung to my little, fervent dream like a drowning man hanging onto a piece of driftwood, in some wild, grey, hostile sea.

I read somewhere, though, that the gritty, hard, real work of recovery doesn't take place until after hospitalisation...which I can really relate to, in many ways. Because after all, that environment of the hospital, is one which is altogether unrealistic. I was cared for in there, made to gain weight, gently or not so gently prompted to eat my dinner, like a good girl. And so in I went, and they did what they had to do to me, what they were supposed to do. And then suddenly I was out again, in the real world: This was where the real work was supposed to begin. For this was the environment where my eating disorder had first been enabled to develop and evolve; and of course, here, there was no nurses watching my every move, no monitoring, no one constantly looking over my shoulder, making sure that I doing what I was supposed to do, eating what I was supposed to be eating, conducting myself in a way which fitted in with the hospital and their rules. No, it was just me, little lost Emmy, pitted against her eating disorder. Which the hospital, of course, had not magically whisked away, as I was hoping, so desperately, that they would.

No. ED remained, lurking in the darkest corners of my mind, awaiting its opportunity to slip silently from its hiding place like a lethal viper emerging from its lair, intent upon sinking its poison-soaked fangs into its helpless, unsuspecting,vulnerable prey.

Because yes, I guess that's the truth of it, even though to say so fills me with shame: I was vulnerable, I didn't suspect anything, and I was pretty much rendered helpless, again. What chance did I have? The hospital had pretty much given me a new body, a body I was unused to and could not bear the sight of. The comments made by others - oh, you've gained weight, you look well - were unbearable to me, as were the ones which made it sound as if I was fully better. Because deep down inside, I felt as if my heart was breaking. As I knew, without one shadow of a doubt, that I was no way near recovered. People would look at me, and smile, and make their comments, and see a girl who was recovered: but they didn't know, they didn't feel, they couldn't see the storm that raged deep inside.

But that was a year ago now. It's true: somethings, unfortunately, do remain the same. That being, principally, that I am not free. ED is still part of me, and ED still talks to me every day: pouring its poisonous lies into my ears; lies which, I know, are jut what they are - pure, senseless, lies. But at the same time, ED makes them so believable, reasonable, to me; and at times, when I am caught off my guard and let myself down. And then ED grabs onto that victory, shaking it in my face, telling me that there you have it, there's the proof. Proof of your own stupidity!! You are just worthless, you are never going to recover!! You might as well give up, right here, right now.

But this is when I stand up and say...No, ED. No...

Never, ever again, ED....

No matter how many times I fall over...

This time, I will never again allow that fall to break me...

I will never again turn back.

At least I can say that is one thing...that has changed; That being, my determination to beat this...thing, which has taken so, so much away from me. And that, whatever it takes, I won't ever allow myself to just give in, ever, ever again. Maybe I will struggle forever. Maybe I will relapse again. Maybe I will never get to that beautiful, distant mountain top, the one to which I can see, in the furthest corner of my mind..so bright, so beautiful, but so, so painfully far away.

But I am going to give it all that I have...I am willing to fight with every single breath.

And I am wiser, now. I have come a long, long way from the frightened little Emmy of a year ago. It's true to say that I still feel so afraid, so uncertain, so confused. But. I know that I am, in a way, alot wiser, maturer, stronger. I have proven that I can be strong. I have overcome so many obstacles and fought so many fears...and although I know, that there I still have a long, long way to climb along that hard, rocky road winding its way up that steeply sloping mountain; I know that this time...I will not give in. No matter what ED may say or what ED may try to do to me, I know that it will never, ever be able to rob me of the inner strength that I possess deep inside.

Yesterday I mentioned, how I was going to do some reflective work on what, specifically, I need to do and achieve, in order to make this crucial change.

• I need to develop my self esteem...Because after years of branding myself a worthless and useless failure, ir's now proving so, so hard for me to want to recover, as I continuously let this voice drag me back down. You are useless, you are worthless, noone cares about you. You are stupid and selfish and pathetic. What do you have to recover for? One thing I know for a certainty now is that, if I am to make a full recovery, I need to completely destroy this Voice. But how, essentially, am I going to accomplish this? I have a few ideas..more on this in my next post. ;)
• I need to separate myself from the "skinny identity". I need to recognise that being at a healthy weight for my body (ie around that which I was at on leaving the hospital) did not make me ugly, repulsive, fat, or unattractive. Rather, I need to find peace with my body...to fully and wholly recognise that ED's promises of the benefits of being skinny - that it will bring me happiness or fulfillment; that being skinny will mean that I look just a wee bit prettier...you will still be ugly, but maybe, not quite so ugly as you would be, if you were at what people call a "healthy" weight" - for exactly what they really are: nothing but manipulative, non-sensical, distorted and corruptive lies.

Before my relapse in the summer...

But though others would look at me and think I was recovered...they couldn't see the storm that raged,

deep inside my "recovered" body...

• I need to follow my meal plan and get back to healthy, strong Emmy, who enjoys her food as much as she enjoys cooking with it. I know that I love food. Food is awesome!! Why should I let a stupid voice spoil my enjoyment of it?
• To break every single one of the ED rules, in their various forms. I'm currently working on this long and detailed list which I will definitely share with you very shortly. 
• And all the other various Branches of my Recovery need to be properly tended with equal care and attention. Some are harder than others, but I am not prepared to neglect a single one of them.

Chase your Dreams...:)

Hi everyone!!!

Just another quick (and exciting!!!) update from Ganache-Elf's HQ (ie. the little blue-tiled kitchen here at Derryguile House!!)

As you all know, baking has always been two of my greatest ever joys. Baking is, to me, more than just a simple hobby for passing the time or as a means of saving money on buying shop-bought produce. No: to me, baking is my passion, a commitment and a source of endless enjoyment, pleasure and creativity. Nothing makes me happier then spending a rainy afternoon up to my elbows in flour in my kitchen, pinny on and wooden spoons and battered Kenwood Mixer at the ready. To me, there is something truly special in seeing the delight on the face of a recipient of my home-baked produce; about that moment when the oven door is opened to reveal a beautiful , golden, risen masterpiece inside; or when those gorgeous, homely smells begin to emit from the kitchen to waft all over the house, tickling tastebuds with their heavenly aromas.

But today, with the help and encouragement of my friends, I have discovered that I can take passion for baking that one step further...

My friends and I went for a little picnic up in the mountains yesterday afternoon, armed with various essentials which we knew were indispensable to the success of our adventure. These included three pairs of worn out runners - which, despite being caked in mud with the Nike swoosh or Adidas stripe long been rendered indistinguishable, had withstood the test of time again and again, never failing us when we chose to don them for such mucky expeditions in field or forest or bog. numerous rain jackets and umbrellas, which, despite the innocent blue serenity which had graced the sky as we had initially departed from the house, we knew all too well we would more than likely need upon our journey. you don't really go walking in Ireland without a rain jacket. Not even if its in the middle of the summer, and it feels warm enough outside to wear shorts and a t-shirt: no. it just isn't the done thing, to refrain from bringing rain jackets on a walk in Ireland. And then, of course, there was the most essential item of all. The picnic. ;)

Our picnic consisted of various baked delights, including a freshly-baked crown loaf which I had whipped up earlier that morning, wrapped securely in a tea towel and bundled onto the back seat of the car. With that we had cheeses and peanut butter and tomatoes, and fruit and nuts and of course...sweet things. Oat cookies and cupcakes of various flavours. And it tasted so, so good.

And as we sat at the little picnic table, with the wind gentle rustling the leaves of the beech trees which formed a shady, spring-green canopy above our heads, it suddenly occurred to me - to us, even - that perhaps, I can make all my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations for the future, all come true...

Starting with one that has remained with me for a long, long time, ever since that day when I first put on my little white apron with the canaries on it - the very same apron which I still wear today, with its chocolaty stains and all - and discovered for myself joy, the excitement, the magic of home-baking...

This dream being, of course, to have my very own little baking business, in which I design, bake, and decorate my own edible creations!!! 

And since everyone has to start somewhere, today I set up a little Facebook page called My Cocoa Stained Apron, from which I will be able to provide information and pricing and let people know about my little business. And yes I know, that it might not come to anything, but. I believe that if you have a dream you should follow your heart and chase it...

Be stronger than your excuses; be braver than your fears.

Never, ever stop believing; don't ever lose hope.

Chase your Dreams!! <3 xxx