The Child

Recovery represents a new life, a new beginning. I knew this all along, but now, this concept takes on a new and profoundly beautiful relevance.

For not only does recovery mean a new life for me, free from the shackles of the eating disorder. It also means that, from my body, new life may be brought into the world.

Me this Summer

I've been with my boyfriend for almost a year now. Something I haven't really talked about on my blog; for at first I didn't discern a connection between my relationship and my recovery.

For through this extraordinary and beautiful boy I have found both life, and beauty, in a place where there once was only barrenness. Being in love has taught me alot about recovery. It has showed me what recovery should be like, and could be like. For when I am with him it is like I almost feel normal. Normal and more alive than I have ever felt, in the whole twelves years of my illness.

He has made me realise just how badly I want to be free.

Free, to make our own life together: and, perhaps in time, to create new life through children.

There was once a time I was repelled by the thought of having kids. I love children and always have done; but yet, when it came to the thought of having children myself, my whole being would recoil with fear and abhorrence. Because being a mother meant being a woman. And being a woman meant gaining weight and leaving my thin, stick-limbed child's body far behind.

For me, once; a distant possibility.

For me, now, a close and fundamentally life-changing new reality.

For now I no longer have a child's body: my body is that of a young woman. Just yesterday, I bought my first  D bra. Having been wearing B bras since March this year, it did not escape my notice that my breasts, over the summer, had continued to grow.

Hard to believe that once even my tiny little A bras were much too small for me.



I now have the body of a woman; the body that the person that I am was meant to have, long before now. Now all I need to do is accept it; and perhaps, in time, I will learn to embrace it.

And it is through love - the love of my boyfriend, my Mam, my best friend, and my readers - that I have come to realise that I need not fear being healthy. For being healthy will enable me to fulfill all my dreams and aspirations; for being healthy, I know, will enable me to live my life to the full. A life free from restriction, irrational fears, and obsession about my weight and my size.

It's began, now. And I am near the end of the road. Not there yet; for there is still much to do; still a hill up ahead, for me to climb. But the light is shining, strong and true, through that little chink in the wall; like a beam of golden sunlight pouring forth from the cloud-shrouded heavens.

Now all I need to do is dismantle the bricks that encompass that hole, and step through, into the light.

The Step

A few things prompted me to write my last post; compelled me to speak out about the pain and frustration and the agony of what is the longing to completely let go, but yet, simultaneously, being so intensely, paralysingly afraid to do so. It's a fear which is as numbing and as real as that when you're about to leap out a plane; stepping right out into thin air with nothing but the parachute upon your back. The very thought of that single step is enough to freeze your very blood out of fear.

But it's the mind that's the worst, here. It skips ahead of you and paints such pretty pictures, of you falling through the endless nothingness of the sky's infinity, the scream being ripped from your lungs and the cold air hissing violently through your ears. Imagined catastrophes wrap themselves around your mind's eye, so that you're unable to see anything else. Images of you falling through space and breaking your body upon the awaiting rocks below; of you, just falling and falling forever, with nothing to hold on to save the memory of what it once was like to be upon solid, firm ground.

And so, with these images having anchored themselves like heavy rocks upon the seabed, you suddenly declare to yourself you can't do it. After all your plans, all your preparations, all your courage mustering; all your best intentions. Now all of those just lie in a useless heap upon the floor, reminding you of what you see as your failure.

But I cannot do it. 

I can't overcome the fear.

But, I ask you now, is it the thoughts of the fall or the actual step which bites into you the most?

I'm telling you now, it's the actual step.

There's enough strength in each and every one of us to achieve anything in this life that we set our hearts to.

Including recovery.

It's just the fear that stands in our way. The fear and the doubt.

But doubt and fear killed more dreams than failure ever did.

Thoughts and doubts can kill. My story is living proof of that. I look back now to when it all began. It wasn't any external factors that caused me to move onto that distorted, polluted road which was Ed's; a road full of poison and damp soaking holes, a road which slowly caused my body to break up just that one bit more with every single hateful, yet irresistible step. No. It wasn't any living person, any physical thing that caused me to become ill with anorexia. Rather it was the Fear, and the Doubt, and the Thoughts. The Thoughts that ED implanted within me, and forced me to nurture. Thoughts that I wasn't good enough, wasn't pretty enough, wasn't cool enough, wasn't skinny enough. The thoughts that in order for me to have the slightest chance of making friends and losing some of my inherent ugliness, I needed to lose weight.

Later, the thoughts were of similar lines, and equally just as deadly. Thoughts that I deserved to die and that starving was the best course of action to achieve it. Thoughts that to gain weight, I would be repulsive; and the world would reject me. And many of these still linger with me now. Deeply ingrained beliefs, as obstinate and unmoving as the most deepset, heaviest boulders of sheer granite rock.

But.
I cannot, this time, let the doubt and the fear take any more of my life away from me, for any longer.
I've already lost alot of years to my eating disorder, through the fears and doubts Ed created within my fragile, vulnerable mind.

But.
Now is the time for me to fight back.

Now it's about recognising that those deeply ingrained beliefs which I mentioned above are not so deeply ingrained that I do not have the strength to budge them. To push them away and set myself free. To take that step out of the plane into the Unknown. The Unknown which is true recovery.

Yesterday morning I took one such single, tiny step, one which to many might seem trivial and irrelevant, but for me resembled something more of a triumph. For a good while now I have reverted to being fixated on having 100 ml max of milk with cereals in the morning. But today, on approaching the fridge to take out the bottle. I wondered. I wondered if I could make it more. Whether I dared to push aside the fear and pour that bit extra in the jug.

No, screamed the Voice. No! It'll fill you up too much! Because if you have more milk you'll have more cereals, and you'll blow up like a balloon! You won't be able to have as much later on! Don't you dare, girl! Don't you dare! 90 mls in that jug, that's ALL! Don't you dare!

I won't, I answered, timidly, but then stopped, pausing, thinking of the last post I had wrote.

And that's when I realised..
It's only a fear. A stupid, irrational fear.
What need I fear of just a bit extra milk???

Milk is good for me, right? I have osteoporosis. Osteoporosis = my bones need all the calcium I can get. Ditto.

And before I could ponder it for any longer I had seized the bottle and poured it out and added the cereal and then....

then I ate.

A tiny victory, but at the same time, it felt good. It felt good to be a victor for a change. Becuase for a while now it seems ED has been smirking an awful, awful lot, at my apparent inability to increase my meal plan that wee bit more.

But I know I can't just stop here, now. I need to do a bit more than that. The "milk victory" felt good but that's not where this thing is going to end. There's alot more I know I need to do here.

If I really want to gain this weight...no, let's pause and rephrase that.

If I really want to be healthy. To get my periods back. To silence the Voice once and for all. To give my bones the best possible chance to be as healthy as osteoporotic bones have the capacity to be.

I dug deep inside myself, searching for answers, the iron hard truths, the impermeable facts that neither time or force can change. Why? Why am I really afraid of being a higher bmi? It's not a case of physically not being able for it, after all. I've put myself through the gaining weight process a number of times. True, not with a target of this higher bmi(s) in mind, but it was still very much an intensely difficult, grueling process which takes an exhausting toll on both the body and mind.

I'm afraid to gain and reach this bmi because...

• I'm afraid of what my body will be like. I am afraid that I will hate it. I feel ugly now at this current weight and I am convinced that, at an even higher one, I will feel completely repulsive and vile.
• I'm afraid that then, people will see me as completely "recovered" (if they do not do already) and assume I no longer need any help and support to beat Ed.
• I'm afraid that, if I increase my meal plan again, I won't be able to stop eating 4000 + calories on having reached the target weight, and will just keep on gaining and gaining.
• I'm afraid, yes, of facing the physical and mental unpleasantries of gaining weight good and proper again. The screaming anxiety, the horrendous bloating, the constant declarations of "you are fat, Em" resounding through my head.

There are more, I know; but those are the main ones.

So now I have to gather my own weapons; prepare myself for ferocious war, once again. War with Ed. I'll retaliate his list of no you can'ts with a list of my own. Oh yes I f***ing can, Ed.

I'm currently reading Life without Ed by Jenni Schaefer. One of the most crucial aspects to recovery from anorexia that Jenni identifies is distinguishing and constructing your own voice, separate from Ed's.

So here is my own voice. Speaking loud and clear, now.

I need to gain this final bit of weight....because...

• Wake up, Em, and face the reality here. You have serious osteoporosis. And you know all too well that your period ain't gonna come at this weight. No good drifting on and pretending it's all ok, because it's not. You may not have taken your consultant's advice back then. But take it, now. And stop closing your eyes to the truth.
• By gaining this final bit of weight I will be able to fully restore my health. All those other parts of the body damaged from over a decade of anorexia. My nails and skin and internal organs; my concentration, my memory. You might not be able to see the internal damage, Em, but you know all too well that it's there. 
• I won't feel so tired and listless and lifeless all the time. Gaining these final few kilos will give me the energy to laugh and smile again, to live.
• And last but not least. It will be in my best interests to get my weight up for my new job in February. It's by no means an office job or anything like that, by the way - it's quite a physical job in which I will be on my feet alot of the time. I'm not saying I'm an unfit person, but I'm not exactly what you would describe strong and vigorous, either. But, to get my weight up beforehand, will mean I can work at my very best, physically and mentally.

So now I have some new goals, new priorities. Which I am going to fix right in my head, now. Time to step up to the plane door, take one deep long breath, and step out.

That terrifying step...
But one I need to take to save myself.
Because one day this plane I'm riding will crash, and burn; with me, along with it.

Time to go, Ed.

Time to go.

I'm gonna take this jump and you're not coming with me. This time, you stay behind, old friend.

This is my own step, which I alone can take; for myself.

For me and for my life, and for all that recovery stands for.💗

Yesterday I finally plucked up the courage to approach Mam and ask her for help. I told her everything: my current struggles with Ed, my aspirations to try and gain a little more weight and my fears around having to do so, and my difficulty in dealing with people's comments as regards my current shape and weight.

Mam listened as I knew deep down she would. And it felt, right then, that the enormity of taking that huge, overwhelming step had lessened.

I know Mam can't take this big step for me. But to know she is there - ready to give me that gentle, yet firm push forwards whenever I can feel myself faltering - has given me so much comfort and has made me feel both safer and braver. Now I'm ready to jump without once looking back. My courage roars defiance in my breast like a lion facing the retreating hunter with his net. Oh yes, ED. I'm ready, now. I'll be your captive for no longer. 

Thank you, Mam. I dedicate this post to you. 💖💕💗 

Thank you also - SO much - for everyone who has commented and wished me well over the past few weeks. Your words mean so so much. I am honoured and humbled by your sincerity and thoughtfulness. Thank you 💗

Leaving behind the scared little girl...

Mam was cleaning in the kitchen, her strong, brown hands scrubbing vigorously at the stains upon the smooth paneled cupboards. I approached tentatively, my hands curling awkwardly at my sides, feet dragging reluctantly upon the tiles. my hope, flickering like a weak candle flame in a draughty, cold church. 

Seeing me, she stopped, glancing at me enquiringly. "What's the matter, Em?" she said.

My heart leaped into my throat; like a lithe young rabbit jumping towards the stars. The longed for, yet intensely dreaded words. I wanted to pour out everything then - but the moment flitted away from me, flecks of dust being blown away by the wind, passing through my groping fingers. And besides. I had - a question, not a full blown account of how much I yearned for her help, her support in what I was doing.

"I wanted to ask you a favour, Mam," I said. She smiled, straightened, flicked the dishcloth she was holding into the sink.I suppressed the urge to fling my arms around her; to release all of the aching troubles of my heart.

No, Em.

Get to the point.

"I was wondering mam," i began, my voice barely above a whisper. "I wrote myself a new meal plan amounting to about 3500-4000 cals. I was wondering if...if you could look at it for me..?"  My voice trailed off at the end; I had lowered my gaze to the floor as I spoke. But at the final few words I snapped my head up again. I had to see  and witness the expression on her face.

Something flickered across her eyes like the shadow of a bat flitting across the bright surface of the moon. I searched those beloved, dark green eyes desperately, with the fitful, desperate hope of the last survivor clinging to the wave-washed rocks.

"Ok, Em," she said, reluctantly, wearily. My heart felt like it had been cleft in two by a butcher's cleaver. I quickly turned away from her, my own eyes filling with a rush of salty tears. Pathetic, I know: but I had so badly, so intensely longer to hear, to see, that ready willingness to help me, which she had so readily exhibited in a former time, a former place. That being, of course, in the days of my hospital admission; when everything had been so centred on little Emmy's recovery.

But things, this time, are very, very different.

As I turned and went back up the stairs, painful, fleeting images began to dance across my mind's eye. Images of that bitter, bitter time: but embedded in the thick soil of that bitterness there lay a sweetness which now I longed for more than anything in the whole wide world.

That being the open support, and encouragement, of my parents, who at the time  had constantly and consistently advocated every single aspect of my recovery. Mam had sat with me through my most difficult meals and had held my hand everytime I would break down in tears over my bloated, distended stomach. Daddy would often ask me as to how I was coping with the meal plan, and offer gentle words of encouragement whenever we sat together and ate our spreaded scones together at half past 4. They were constantly checking in on me, asking me how I was doing. Every little goal I met, every single step of progress I took: each and every one of them, they would acknowledge with a hug or a smile,

But now all of that is gone.

Now...things are different. Mam and Dad aren't involved anymore. Now it is just me. Me, and a flimsy piece of paper upon which is inscirbed the meal plan that I wrote up for myself. Me and my broken spirit and my cracked heart.

And I know - I know, with every piece of soul - that I am the one who is to blame.

Because I know that they are beginning to give up. All those countless tears and countless promises, that this time, it will be different, Mam. I wont slip up again, I promise. All those countless ruined meals and failed attemots at "true" recovery. Is it any wonder that they have given up on this? Is it any wonder that - whenever I ask for thier direct support - they appear detached, disinterested, distant? Is it any wonder that they think, here we go, again. Emmy says she's going to recover.

I know that Mam and Dad think that this place at which I am now at - this semi-recovered state at which the sufferer is not "severely", dangerously sick, but yet, still sick -is the furthest I am ever going to reach in my recovery. I know this. I see it in their eyes and in their faces. I read it in Mam's face when I asked her that question after breakfast today. I hear it in Daddy's voice when he tells me, in the weary, resigned voice of the defeated soldier, to stop picking at my food and start eating like a "normal person". I sense it in that uncomfortable, loud silence that fills the space between us every time I try to express how much I am trying, or to make them aware of the battle I am continuing to fight, every hour of every day.

Mam and Dad have laid down their weapons.

They think the battle is over; won, by ED.

But this is where I have to prove them wrong.

This is where I have to show them that the Emmy they knew and loved was not destroyed, forever.

I have to prove to them that their little girl is not lost. Well no; let me rephrase that sentence. That their daughter is not lost. Because the truth is I am no longer a little girl. I am a young woman with an eating disorder, who still has, in some ways, the body of a girl. A young woman who has decided to take this fight into her own hands. Because she realises that she no longer can depend on her parents to manage her recovery for her. It's her who has to do the doing. It's her who has to be the strong one, now. For all the love that I bear for them, and always, always will. For all that they ever did for me, and continue to, every day.

Because no girl has known as much love as I have had, growing up here in the sweet leafy surroundings of my beautiful childhood home. And I know that my parents care about me. And that nothing in the world will make them happier..if I choose to recover.

And so I fight on. I look at my meal plan and feel a tiny surge of pride as I think to myself, well done, Emmy. Because I am sticking to it. I am doing it. I am getting stronger by the day. This second relapse has proven to me I am my own source of my greatest ever strength. I am doing it alone but I know that I am not alone. I know there are people in this world rooting for me. Willing me to move on; and leave that sick, frightened, thin little girl behind.

The Little Light in the Darkness...

I knew it would never be easy. I knew, that this path was going to be a hard one. The hardest journey that I ever will make. But never did I anticipate just how...how dark this road was going to be. Especially at this exact place: the place after weight restoration.

I often liken the recovery journey to a scramble up a long and lonely mountain. And that is what it is; to me. But halfway up that mountain, the  path winds into an impossibly dark chasm. A chasm which I have no choice but to step into, stretching out my fingers as I try to feel the way. I cannot see here; I might as well be completely blind. There is no way of telling what lies ahead of me, or what traps and holes might open up beneath my feet.

That glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Sometime it winks mockingly ahead of me, the faintest speck in the blackness of this cavern. But then, as I start towards it desperately, it winkles out and ceases to exist. I know it is out there somewhere, beyond the pitchblack darkness; but I have no idea how I will get to it; just how exactly I am going to proceed.

Because this is truly what they call blind faith. Walking a tightrope with your eyes closed, precariously balanced with your hands thrown out to either side. A thin little leaf clinging to its twig, which with every puff of wind is almost cast off and blown away. I feel fragile, vulnerable, unprotected. And, above all, I am more afraid than I have ever been in my entire life.

So easy to turn back now; turn back, and try and flee from whence I came. Back to that familiar, seemingly comfortable place behind me.

But that was the place which almost killed me... 

And then I know that I have to go on.

And so I step into that chasm and then I close my eyes. because with my eyes open I can see the darkness, trying to close all around me. But in my mind's eye I can paint a completely duifferent picture: images which glow with soft, golden colours. Colours which serve to warm the very blood in my veins.

These images are simple enough; to anyone else who might have seen them at the time that my eyes did. But, to me, they are more beautiful than the sparkling stars of a clear winter night sky; more precious than the most priceless of gemstones in the vastest of treasure hordes. And their beauty and value have caused them to be forever inscribed to my heart; never ever to fade or be taken away. And this darkness cannot touch them.They shine like stars; they glitter like diamonds. But stars and diamonds, to me, are worthless in comparison to what these images contain.

These little images show people as well as words. There is my mam enveloping me in a hug, that very first day when I set out on my battle against my eating disorder. Here are the words of the comments of my readers on the day of my previouis blog post; when I felt like I was drowning in despair; that because of the way that Ed has broken so much of what I had, life appeared so empty and broken and hopeless. There is the memory of I and my best friend, screaming our lungs out as the Cú Chulainn rollercoaster, having reached the crest of  105 m, plunges down towards the ground at the speed of a plummeting stone.

And so I let these images fill me with strength. Because they remind me that I am not alone; that I was not, that I never will be, alone along this long and difficult path through the chasm.I know that this is my battle; one that I and I alone can fight. They cannot carry me; they cannot fight for me. But I know that they are there beside me. I know that they will help to guide me towards that beautiful glimmer of light.

That little light in the darkness is just there in the distance now; seemingly so small, so far away, so distant. But this time I will not cry out. I can dance through this darkness now if I want to, spinning and gliding over all those holes and pitfalls. Ed need not touch me, or catch me. He might try to take hold of my hand and lure me to join him in his own seductive dance. A dance which I know the steps all too well now; a dance which I have trodden before, in the certainty that I could not cross this darkness on my own, to step my own way.

And before I knew it Ed was spinning me to his own tune again. A tune which led me right back down, back through the tunnel, to that familiar, familiar place...

But I know that, deep down inside me, there lies the strength and the courage to to break completely away from you...

And so I step lightly forwards into the darkness, letting the love that radiates from those images pulsate through the blood in my veins. And in the distance I see the little light in the darkness ahead of me. At times its brightness dims and winks out; at times it might appear a million miles away; like some beautiful faraway star suspended in the vast infinity of the heavens. But though the stars of our galaxy may not always be visible to me, I know that they are never truly gone. Just like my little light in the darkness.

And I know that if i keep on believing - that if I never allow myself to lose hope - that one day I will find my way to that shining star. That I will reach the end of this dark and lonely road; and step into the beautiful valley, where soft grasses and sweet wildflowers do grow.

Thank you so much for always being there for me..I mean every word of what I wrote here..your words fill me with strength and hope and give me the courage to strive on with this fight <3 xxx

My little candle became a flame; the flame, became as bright as the morning sun...

It started off so small, my rebellion. My rebellion against the relapse.

At first it didnt seem like I had a chance. My heart was broken and my spirit was torn. My fear - seemed so vast, so immeasurable, so limitless. There didn't seem to be any hope left for me. That hope was as slender as the flickering slivers of light on the dying embers of a rain-soaked fire.

But despite all that I still surged forwards, reaching for that change with outstretched hands.

And over the past few months...I know I have climbed many mountains. I have faced, and withstood, so many, many storms.

I reached out for support to my Mam and closest friends.
I dedicated myself to sticking to my meal plan and I got myself back on it alone.
I stuck to my meal plan every day.
I consciously increased my food intake.
I took on the enormous task of battling my eating disorder, by myself. I kept on going to college, I struggled onwards with my course. All the while I was fighting a battle of my very own. The other people at Trinity were oblivious to it. But I knew that I was fighting for my life.
I sat my exams and I got through each one. Even though i felt ready to crack under the strain and the anxiety...I told myself I had to be strong. And on each and every one of those exam days I ate as well as I would have on an average day. And I told myself...I would be ok. This was an exam, nothing more. An exam did not define me. If I failed this exam, than there would be always be another one; another chance to sit, and pass. But this might be the only ever chance I get, to save myself, my body. There would be other exams but there would be, for me, only ever one body. And I knew that the time had come to treat it right; and to prioritise my recovery...

And not once during those storms, did I let my little fire wink out.

Of course, the owner of that Voice is far from gone. It is still there, perched doggedly upon my shoulder every day, bending itself over to whisper softly in my ear and fill my head with its threats and obscurities, its cold, manipulative lies. All it would take would be for one small step back and then my candle will flicker again, be toppled over. But this time, though, something is different. The flames have become more than mere flickers: they are dancing, leaping, glowing like ambers. The girl who is called Emmy has changed. And her flame is stronger than ever before.

So many other things too, try to dampen my flame; try to pull me down. But now I know I need to dispense with each and every one of them. The perfectionsim, the obsession, the constant talking myself down. You're useless. You're a waste of time. You're surely the most stupid human being who ever lived. These thoughts revolve around and around inside my head, echoing and reverberating. Trying to establish themselves as my fundamental truths; striving, with the ruthless intent of a leopard closing in for the kill, to block out all of my light. The worst of it though is that you can't escape it. How can you escape a little, but so cruel, voice which resides in your very own head?

The answer, I have learned, is this. you can't, essentially, escape it... But you can choose to fight it, resist it, defy it with every single breath. The Voice can and will be silenced. But the onus now lies on us to strive against it now, to stand tall and brave and strong.

And my little flame burns brightly, shining like a diamond, a glowing, sparkling star. And it burns and glows and becomes stronger...

And this time I will nurture it. Nurture it, let it grow.

The storm may rage and the rain may fall. The wind may blow hard against me...but this time, the wind and the rain cannot touch my little bright light. This time, my light will not be extinguished.

This time my light will shine on. <3 xxx

Thank you so, so much to evryone who commented and sent me well wishes during my blogging absence. It meant the world to me and I thank you with all my heart.

I thought I just needed to clarify before I sign off just where on earth I have been the past few months since I ceased to blog.

If you recall, back in September last year, I disappeared from my blog as this was the month which marked the beginning of my relapse. However, this time this was not the case. I stopped blogging for a number of reasons which I just want to briefly elucidate now. Firstly, what with the exams fast approaching, I felt as if I could not dedicate to my blog the time and the care that I would have liked, so I thought it were best if I distanced myself a while from my beloved Cocoa Stained Apron for fear that it would interfere with my studying. This was a source of great sadness and frustration to me, as I love blogging and hated being separated from it, but I felt as if I didn't have a choice.
Secondly, and here I am being very honest in saying that of course, there were times in my relapse-recovery that I felt extremely negative, down, and depressed. It was hard; it was so very, very hard. There were times when I felt I had to give up. There were times when I felt ugly, unattractive, fat, a failure, repulsive. And I felt so afraid that somehow, during those times, my negativity would manifest itself on my blog, if I chose to write. Another factor, then, in my decision not to blog. And thirdly, my little negative voice also had allowed me to convince myself that my blog was useless. Yes, this was exactly what I had allowed myself to think and believe.

But now, as I say, Emmy has changed, and grown.

I know I am not ugly, fat, or worthless.
I know my blog is not useless. It is my blog and my place, a place of memories and reflection, of sharing and healing.
I know that recovery is hard. But also, that recovery is possible. That if you refuse to give up, and keep on going, despite all the fear and the hardship and the pain. That one day, we will get there, together. That one day, we can and will be free.

And, last but not least..I don't have any exams coming up!! :D (more on this later - think I need to update you on where I am at at the moment in regard to college :o )

So now the time is right for me, to return to what I love. It is time for the Ganache Elf to resume her blogging journey again, for so much has changed since that day all those weeks ago, when a young girl with fear in her eyes embarked upon one of the most difficult and challeneging stages of her recovery journey: the fight back against a full-blown relapse. But I did it. I did it, and here I am now. A happier, healthier, stronger Emmy who is ready now tomake her voice heard. <3 xxx

Advice Post- sticking to the plan!! :)

Today I thought I would write the first (haha, or maybe not so. It's more than likely that I have written a postof a similar kind some time in the dim and distant past. I've just written so many blogposts at this stage I guess I am beginning to lose track of them :( !! ) of my advice posts dealing with certain aspects or particular challenges of recovery. And so here are my tips, based on my own experience of what has and has not worked for me, of how to follow/get back onto following a meal plan....

• One of the hardest but most important things you can do is to tell someone about how much you are struggling.

Yes, I know what you are thinking. "I can't tell them. They will be mad. They will be upset. They won't understand why this happened." But please believe me when I say this...recovery is one of the hardest things you will ever have to do in this life. And recovery without support is a hundred times harder. It is always, always best to be as open and as honest as possible with your friends, family and support system. They can only help you if you reach out to them.
This comes from the girl who took a whole six months to finally reveal the truth to her loved ones, about how she had relapsed on returning to college and lost weight as a result. And it was one of the most difficult and painful things I ever had to do, to tell them that, yes, I had relapsed, I had lied to them, I had fallen victim to my eating disorder once again, had allowed it to take control of me. But since that day I have not looked back once. I have been doing so, so much better, now that I have Mam supporting me. Because doing it on my own did, in the end, prove to be too hard.

But there is enormous power in togetherness and it was through that crucial support and help that I was finally enabled to find my feet again; to realise that I did, after all, have that strength and courage deep inside me. the strength of a great white swan, soaring upon the storm clouds as they rage and thunder around him. the courage of the young, delicate seabird who has stretched his wings and stepped over the edge of the cliff face, trusting himself to the winds, and the strength of his own wings.

• Write up the meal plan in full and stick it somewhere where everyone can see it.

It can be the fridge, the noticeboard, the kitchen door or above the doggy's basket on the wall if you prefer. Just somewhere obvious where you and the people you are living with will constantly be able to see it.

• Buy yourself plenty of the foods which you like and enjoy.

common sense I know, but I mean, what's the point of trying to force yourself to eat things you don't like??
Take my meal plan, for example, which is basically comprised of all the foods which I love to eat. I can honestly say there is not one food item on there which I don't like..no, quite the opposite!! And this, consequently, makes it much easier for me to follow. After all, eating toast generously slathered with peanut butter, or regularly indulging in numerous mugs of Mam's hot choc is something which, to be honest, I don't really find too difficult to do at all anymore, haha. They're just too yummy to resist, and I know that by having as much of these delicious foods as I want, I am only helping my body to repair itself, and basically doing the equivalent of shaking a clenched fist in ed's stupid gaping face.

• Tell someone about what you plan to eat today/show them your food diary for the day.

this puts pressure on you to follow through with what you aim to have. And you will feel under pressure and feel some anxiety, but just remember, thisis a "good" kind of pressure, essentially, and the only way you are going to destroy that anxiety is by directly doing that thing which directly causes such feelings of agitation.

• Make things in advance if possible, to lessen the chance of being convinced by ed to skip/"conveniently forget" to have something.

I know you can't do this for everything, but it's just something which might do for a few things, particularly if you are a person like me who hates wasting food. I am most certainly one of those people (maybe a bit too much so!!) and so the general idea of this is that if I were to get something out of the freezer, say, the night before for my morning snack..and then once its out the freezer and defrosted, then you have to eat it or it will just go to waste, essentially - you get the idea. As I say, this might not work for everyone and I know it still requires a good bit of willpower to actually make the food item/get the food item out of the freezer etc for starters!!

• Bakeand make your own meals/snacks.

again might not work for everyone but if you are like me and love to bake and cook, this is great as eating more and sticking to your plan consequently means you have more excuse to bake and experiment with new things. ;)

• Develop a sound support system and get as much help and motivation as you possibly can.

If I am feeling a bit nervous or agitated about a certain meal/snack etc what I usually do is go onto my Facebook and answer one of my messages if there is any..my closest friends are aware about my efforts with the meal plan and just talking to them and knowing that they are cheering me on makes such a difference to my motivation. And if I have the camera handy and I am having something which looks as delightful as it tastes, I often can't resist sending them a wee pic..like the Lizzy hot choc I had this morning for example.. ;)

• Reintroduce things gradually, don't take it on all at once. 

Start off with the foods/meals/snacks etc which you fund the less overwhelming. Once you get back into the routine, then it's time to start challenging yourself...
For example for me, when I started eating morning snack again with a hot choc. Well, first I started off by making sure I had a full mug of hot choc, every single morning, for abut four days in a row..and then I added in a small handful of nuts to go with it. In a few days again, a hot choc and a big handful of nuts. Then...hot choc, spelt toast and peanut butter. Then half a bagel, peanut butter and hot choc. And now? Well, now I can happily say that every single morning I have not ONLy a hot choc and a snack...no, now I have a hot choc and TWO snacks instead of one. Like this morning, for example: hot choc and a good handful of salted cashews at 10.30, then half a seeded bagel + tbsp pb at about 12.15. And boy did I enjoy it. And its true, that at one time - only a few months ago, so to speak - this would have been totally unthinkable for me. Yesterday while I was rummaging through some notes in my bag I found a diary in which I had taken some notes of my daily intake during the period back in October, during the period when I had started to restrict again. And I can honestly say, I was appalled, shocked and incredulous..let me tell you, one of the first thoughts that popped into my head - a few seconds after running my eye over the words and actually comprehending just how measly my intake was back then - was...jeez, that amount would NEVER be enough for me now..I'd be starving, if I ate that little. It just all goes to show that, no matter how big, scary or impossible change may be, you CAN do it and you should never let anything or anyone stand in your way. Whether that be fear, doubt, uncertainty; the cruel taunts of ed, dragging you down and telling you that you cannot do it. You CAN resist and defy all of them. Don't let anything stand in the way of your recovery!!!!

Anyway, ahem. Once again I seem to have swayed off topic somewhat. Apologies. ;)

• Establish a little routine.

For example , on Mam's work days, I always have my hot choc and afternoon snack when she comes in from work at 5.15 . Then we sit by the fire together and talk about our days. Likewise, on Mondays when Im at college until the afternoon, I always try to meet with a friend for coffee (or again, hot choc in my case!!! ;) for coffee at 10 am. Just little changes like that make it so much easier. Always , always try to eat with others..I know this might not always be possible, but whenever it is, do. Make others aware of your routine. My afternoon snacks at the weekends is always crumpet + pb and mam is fully aware of this..then she always buys me fresh crumpets from tescos on friday afternoon and we have them toasted later on after our afternoon walk!!

I hope these are of some help to anyone who is struggling with this particular branch of recovery...which is, I suppose,one of the most important and fundamental aspects to the physical recovery from an eating disorder in terms of nutrition and weight restoration...but which, at the same time, represents one of the most difficult. But hear me now when I say: difficult does NOT mean impossible...and there is absolutely nothing that you cannot do.

You can, and will, defeat the ED Voice. <3 xxx

Oh and one final point i felt that it was important for me to make. In my last post I included my own meal plans, all of which are loosely based on my ones from hospital (but altered, of course, to suit my own schedule and food preferences!! ) Now I don't calorie count but I would estimate that they are roughly about the recommended amounts for recovery (2500 + ). I thought it important to clarify here that if you are in recovery and about to start the refeeding process, it is very important that you do not go onto a meal plan like the ones I am currently on straight away as this could cause refeeding syndrome , which can be very dangerous. Instead you need to start off on a lower amount and then gradually increase to 2500+.

We have the Power to Break Free... xxx

It's over two weeks now, since that crucial Sunday in late February. the Sunday which changed everything, for me. the Sunday which saw the tables turn on my eating disorder once again; the day upon which, having struggled and floundered in the dark, icy sea for so, so long, I finally achieved what I initially thought would never truly be possible; and which enabled me to firmly and decisively takes the reins of my recovery back into my own hands.

As I outlined in my post from last week, sticking to the meal plan no longer represents any major difficulty for me, now. As I mentioned before..a few months before, it was a completely and utterly different scenario altogether. And I remember it; I remember exactly the way I felt. How I would lie, on opening my eyes each morning, as the faint light of the pale new dawn would steal through my window to illuminate my room with a faint rosy glow,  and ruminate about how much I so desperately yearned to make that vital change; to eat what I knew that my body needed, to follow my meal plan; to smash the chains forged by ED and to break away from its cruel and deathly cold embrace. To reach out to my loved ones, to allow them to reach me; to let them into this cold, harsh, desolate world in which I had become so hopelessly lost.

Every smile that I would fake; was like a shard of ice breaking through my skin, slicing to the bone and causing bright red droplets of blood to ooze to the surface. Every lie that would escape my lips; was like the pain that encases your fingers and your hands on being exposed to the chillness of freezing winter air; a chillness that freezes the blood in your veins and creeps into the marrow of every bone. I'm fine, Mam. I am okay. I feel grand. I ate my lunch. I had toast and cereal before I left the house this morning. Yes, I made myself dinner. No, I don't want anything to eat. Of course I haven't lost weight. 

Lie after lie after lie. The chill had seeped from my veins into my heart. My whole body became numb with the cold, so numb, that I could no longer feel anything. It had become a way of life for me. hopelessly I allowed myself to succumb to its icy embrace, so that the cold water filled my lungs. I knew I was going to drown, but I would not, could not, find the stength to reach out.

But despite that initial pain and fear and anxiety; despite that crippling, all-consuming, overpowering sense of self-loathing, and the belief, as hard and as solid as concrete, that I truly cannot, and will not, ever be able to do it...

Did it, I did. 

and no.  There was no magic medicine or miracle pill that I had to take, in order to make me finally take that terrifying huge leap forward. No. What it took was an incredible amount of willpower, courage, and determination. And the love and support of my Mam. Thats what finally gave me the strength to pull myself out of that icy black sea; that's exactly what it took to give me the power to break through those chains. And since that day I have not looked back; not once. Following my meal plan is more or less habitual to me now. There is no longer any inner debate, on any particular day, over whether I will have my morning snack or not; whether I feel "hungry" enough to prepare and eat breakfast; whether I have "earned" a proper lunch or a scone with my hot chocolate. It's just something that I know, I absolutely have to do.

And now, I know that I have passed through the most difficult early stage of refeeding - the "bloaty", constantly full, nauseousfeeling type stage. If you are currently going through that stage right now, please, please please please - and I know I am repeating myself here. Please DO hang on in there!! I swear, it DOES get easier but you just have to stick with it. I understand all too well how hard the first stage really is. It's not just hard; its god damn fucking awful and it really, really sucks. But. You just HAVE to take a long, deep breath and say to yourself, when you feel as if you can't keep going and just want to give in right there, saying, "surely, restriction was better than this...I felt so much better when I was hungry.." NO. Snap that thought right out of your head.  You have to keep going, keep on eating as much as you can, following your meal plan and fighting, fighting the Voice in your head. And as I say..persevere, and your efforts will be rewarded. And that comes from a girl who stuggled enormously with this phase of recovery. If it wasnt for mam being there to comfort me, and perhaps for my own sense of determination. I don;t think I would have made it through. But i did AND SO CAN YOU. I can truly say it is so worth it. It's actually quite a nice feeling to get your hinger cues back  - again, a little daunting at first, but we need to welcome and embrace this sign of the bodily systems getting back to normal after having been suppressed and deprived of vital energy for so, so long.

And so on that note..its time for me to reflect on this. I'll talk abit more about this topic tomorrow, but I wanted to mention it here, and having written that wee motivation testimony above, I thought it might be good to include here in order to prove to you that ultimately, eating DOES get easier and your body does adapt to it, even begin to feel hungry, as in my case,. So much so, that I now feel ready and prepared to take the next massive step.

The decision: is it time to up my meal plan a bit more ?

I suppose this coming Sunday might be the ultimate determinant in finalising this decision. Thus far my weight has been going ok, I have gained; but I know from experience that there often comes a time when the body requires that extra bit of energy to reach its setpoint; meaning, of course, that the intake of food that it needs has to be increased once again.

Anyway..if anyone could give me any thoughts or advice on this, please do let me know, I would appreciate it so so much <3

I thought that perhaps I might write a few advice posts giving my thoughts and tips of how to cope with just some of the things I have struggled with, and overcome, so far in my recovery. Now I am not in any way saying I am an expert on any of this and please do not assume that I am - that would be a mistake! But that said, I feel as if I do have something of value to offer to others who are going through a similar struggle or experience, and I really want to reach out now and help those in any way I possibly can. <3 xxx

Now I'm a very sleepy and groggy Emmy - so it's on with the fluffy dressing gown and off to the Land of Nod with me..good night everyone, my thoughts and prayers are with you all <3 xxx

It's over, Ed...and you don't have anywhere else left to hide...

You left me feeling so helpless... 

You never showed one shard of remorse, one single drop of pity...

It was as if I was being hunted...hunted by a voice, inside my very own head. Bent on my own destruction. Because that's what you wanted, Ed. You wanted to destroy me..

But now it's time for me to e the stronger one...
And you, you are the one who is going to be hunted.
And I won't stop or give up till I have sought you out and destroyed you completely.

We cannot survive with each other, you and I...
This, is where our relationship ends. 

Just some of my thoughts, on my way home from Dublin yesterday evening, sitting curled up on the half-empty, soporifically warm train, alone with just my thoughts and my little writing journal.

And before I knew it, I had began to write: transcribing those thoughts onto paper, another blog post already beginning to take form within my mind.

It had been a truly lovely, beautiful day. One which had challenged me, in many respects: but the fact that I had overcome that challenge, filled me with a renewed sense of hope; a strength which lightened my heart and lightened the heavy weights pressing down upon my shoulders. And it was a day upon which I had learned things, important things. Important things about myself, my recovery, and ED.

Yesterday, I went up to Dublin to see one of my closest and dearest friends who has, particularly since my relapse, been so, so supportive to me in regard to my recovery, and who has been consistently and unfalteringly stuck by me in my darkest and most lowest of days, when everything appeared so bleak and hopeless and futile, and all I wanted to do was curl myself up into a ball on the floor and close my eyes in the hope that I would never again wake up.In those moments, she was always there for me; even though she lives miles away and her life and work schedule are busy and jam-packed. But yet, despite all that, she has never failed to be there for me to offer a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, heartfelt and supportive advice and encouragement. A gentle, but firm push in the right direction, whenever she feels that I need a bit more than to get me back on the right track. And one of the many, many things that makes her so special to me, is her honesty, her openness, her sincerity.  I know that when she tells me something, that something will consist of the pure, unabridged, simple truth: nothing added, nothing concealed. Nothing is ever left unsaid between us.

Prior to Thursday, I had messaged my friend asking her what times of the morning would suit her for me to drop in, and we had settled on around 10 am, depending on whether or not my train got in on time (the chances of which were, of course, extremely unlikely: Iarnoid Eireann do their utmost best, of course, but I can't honestly say I remember the last time I got to my destination no less than 5 minutes late, unfortunately... ;) ). 10am...a time which, for me, marked a very important time of the day: the time when I would usually have my morning hot chocolate.. ;)

Now, I know that, for my non-Irish readers anyway, Insomnia coffee chain is something you will most likely not be familiar with. Anyway, I'm not going to make this post an advert for Insomnia or anything, but what I am going to say here is: if you, like me, are a bit of a self-confessed hot chocaholic, and you happen ever to visit Ireland some time and you pass an Insomnia coffee shop: just please GO IN THERE. Because their hot chocolate simply is... made in HEAVEN. I think they must use real melted milk choc in it or something (correction: I can confirm, that they do...I watched the lady who served me on Thursday ladle a generous spoonful of divine, satiny, glossy melted choc into the cup before she added in the milk...) and the resulting concoction is a smooth, gloriously creamy, indulgently thick hot chocolate which, quite simply, is enough to melt the heart of any diehard chocaholic, as effectively as the chocolate shards sprinkled over the top of the cup are melted and liquified by the hot milk... ;)

Anyway, to go back the original topic of this long-winded post. Now as I was siting there texting my friend, an all too familiar debate of sorts was currently ongoing in my head. Me, my own voice: and the voice of my eating disorder, of course...

Em. Get a hot choc before you go up to the apartment. Insomnia, Em. Your favourite! You've fought hard this week. You deserve it...

No. NO. No, you do not deserve it. Why would you deserve it? And besides...you drink too much hot choc. You need to give it a break, Em. And you'll save a it of bob by not having one. Don't, Em. You'll be grand. Not sticking to the meal plan for just one day won't harm you.

No. No..I want to stick to my meal plan. I want to maintain the good work that I've started, now. And sure, what difference will three euro make? It'll be worth it, Em. Your readers will be proud. You can do this, Em. You can. Don't - listen - to - the Voice...

No, no, NO! You shall not have it! No, you greedy, selfish girl! Sugar addict! You can't go without one hot choc for just one single bloody morning - ?!

I felt a sudden surge of angry desperation. I was so, so tired, of this. This noise, this constant exchange of heated, furious dictations, in my head. And suddenly I had grasped onto that sense of anger, and hate -  the hatred, for my eating disorder - and I was texting my friend and teling her that yes, 10 am was the time i would usually have a hot choc. And perhaps, before I came up to her, I would pop into Insomnia and get myself one? My friend was quick to urge me on, encouraging me to do exactly that and commending me for being so strong. "But make sure you get one now Emmy. I'll be checking when you come in!" And so...yes. I had done it. I had won another victory against my eating disorder...with the help and support of my friend. And so, subsequently, on Thursday morning the Ganache Elf was coming out of the Insomnia near Heuston Station, clutching in one gloved hand a cup of the best hot choc in town. And they even still had the Christmassy themed cups, which quite honestly are so adorable and made the smile upon my face even wider. A smile brought about through the knowledge that yes, I was doing the right thing. I was being strong against my eating disorder, and had taken yet another little step up the long and steeply sloping mountain.

And so: to summarise. In recovery, it's so, so important, to ensure that you are consistently "on your guard" for the various traps and snares left for you y your eating disorder, which is willing to adopt any strategy to get you caught up once again in its , and that you expose the ground upon which your eating disorder flourished and thrived; so that it is left right out there in the open...so it pretty much, has not one single place left for it to hide. You have to hunt it down in order for it to be destroyed. But, like the pod of dolphins working together in the ocean, hunting out the shoal of fish, this is not something you should be expected to do alone. reach out to others and ask for their support. If you know that breakfast is something you struggle with...then make sure you let someone know and get them to have it with you (if possible, maybe they could have the same sort of food as you?) Or if you have a tendency to miss out on snacks. Then tell a supportive friend or family member, go out and buy yourself some nice snacks that you know that you like and will enjoy, and make it clear to others that this is what you intend to have. The more people you let in, the more support you will have and the eating disorder will have less and less places to hide.

Now, this post has got way too long already so I am going to sign off now!! But I have alot more to say on this topic and in one of my upcoming posts I would love to share with you some of my tips for exposing/hunting out ED and ED habits/behaviours.

Take that, ED!! Heaven in a Christmassy Cup!! <3 xxx

The Branches of Recovery: My Meal Plan

The first two of my branches, I suppose, are the ones which I am currently addressing at the moment. These two branches divide out into lots of different little stems, each of which must be tended to individually and with equal importance. Not one little segment of recovery should ever be neglected.

And so how am I going to about making sure that I continue to follow my meal plan correctly...and not shoot off course as I did the last time.

1.)Plan out in food diary: designate a particular time of the week (ie Friday afternoon for me :) to write out what I will eat for each day.

This is important for a number of reasons. Firstly of course because in writing it down I know exactly what I will have and when; there isn't any indecisiveness or uncertainty. As we all know, ED thrives in such situations.

And also, I did make Mam aware that I am keeping a food diary...I didn't ask her directly to check it now and again, which I wish I could do, very much, as I know how much easier it would be for me if I knew that she would be definitely monitoring my food intake.But anyway, i know that she is aware of it...and I have been leaving it around, quite visibly, on top of my piles of college papers and other accumulations of various bits of junk lying in various positions around the house!! So she could very easily look at it, anytime. Now, I know what you are probably thinking now: that by not asking her directly for support, I am listening to my eating disorder as there is nothing more ED hates more than being put out in the open . But I can honestly say, hand on heart, this is not the whole truth. My prolem lies in that I never made my family fully aware of how I completely slipped off track in regards to the meal plan...I was extremely secretive about it, to say the least, and successfully concealed the real truth og things for months on end - and I am, needless to say, still very, very afraid of their reaction if they were to find out the whole truth. :'(
I hope that one day I will have the courage to tell her, and that she will be able to forgive me. I regret the deciet and the concealment with all my heart. Because my Mam, my wonderful, amazing, one in a million Mam...means more than the world to me. More than the universe, more than life itself. All I can do is take that guilt and the deep love I possess for my Mam, my family, my friends, my loved ones...and  use it to drive me on, drive me on when the rain pours down and the clouds gather together to block out the light. But this time, I will not lose hope...this time, I will carry on. orm may rage and the rain may fall...But instead of running from that storm, i will laugh in its face and dance in that rain. Let Ed say what it likes...this time, I will not let it steal away the rainbow that will appear in my sky. <3 xxx

We CAN reach that beautiful horizon... <3 xxx

2.)write out meal plan and stick on noticeboard in the kitchen...yes, as that's where everyone will be able to see it, everyone will know exactly what Emmy is supposed to be having...and there will be nowhere left for ED to hide. 
So that's what I am planning on doing, this evening..wriitng out my lovely, consice, no-nonsesnse meal plan , with lots of colours and smiley faces...and it will be stuck up on that oard by this evening!! Haha I might as well put up a pic of my master piece when its done, right? ;)

3.)Incorporate a number of different foods into my diet, so I never get bored of anything. I want to learn to love food again, see it no longer as an enemy; to be feared and rigidly controlled. No - I want to recognise it as something to be shared, enjoyed, and loved. :)

4.)Keep up my weekly goals in alliance with the meal plan so I am constantly challenging myself.

5.)Always bear in mind, The basic outline of the meal plan:

Breakfast, morning snack, lunch, afternoon snack, dinner, bedtime snack.
This has to always bbe stuck to every day, no exceptions.

6.)Remember that for now, I cannot rely on hunger cues/intuitive eating.
The body's system gets a bit messed up when we don't eat properly...it will take a while for it to settle down and begin to trust its owner once again.

7.) Write out my Golden Rules and Never Forgets...
Currently working on these...more on that to follow!!

                            Allow your recovery to grow...

And to finish off on a positive note. For my afternoon snack yesterday I had one of my blackberry scones(which I had made back in September but again, had not allowed myself to eat) AND...I did it myself. Granted, Mam was there at the same time - she had made teas for everyone and a hot choc for me <3, and said aloud across to her from the kitchen, "Mam, I don't know what to have for my snack..any ideas?" "I thought you were going to have one of those scones!! There's a load of them in the freezer." Seized with sudden bravado, I quickly hurried to the freezer, dug out the bulging bag in question, and before I knew it I was sitting down by the fire with my hot choc in one hand, and my plate with the buttered scone in the other.

One thing I have learnt from today then, I suppose, is that I can get support from those around me, but in a way which doesn't make me completely dependent - just a little helping hand to guide me along. Also, and I will be sure to do this in the future too - take full advantage of people being around and make sure I always eat my snack with everyone else, not sitting in my room or somewhere out of sight - as then,ED isn't given any opportunity to take advantage.

Here's a little quote I found on Facebook yesterday...
just as a reminder for all of us, to realise just how strong we really are... <3

Have the best Sunday ever everyone...good luck, and stay strong... <3 xxx

ED watch out!!! :D the Ganache Elf is back and she has a Plan of Action... :) xxx

Polka dots, Morokia, volunteering...and that faithful, chocolate-splattered Kenwood Mixer of legend... ;)

Yes, these are just SOME of the tools I have at my disposal...in my quest to overcome my relapse and forever silence ED...

My plan of action against ED. :D

1.To make a concise meal plan and stick to it every day, NO exceptions.

Designate a particular time of the week (for me I think it will be on one of my hot choc breaks at the weekend! ;) ) to plan out my meals and snacks (I have ANOTHER new noteook for this purpose, this one has polka dots on it...my little catty one has gone walkies somewhere in my room so I had to get another one!! :o ). Let  Mam know what I would like her to get for me when she goes grocery shopping (I used to go with her but I have college friday mornings now :'( ), vary what I eat so I don't get bored of anything and lured into just having "safe" foods.

And of course, one of the most essential components of my meal plan = LOTS of hot choc!!! ;)

2. Make my own list of rules...which are essentially are reversal of the ED ones :)
I will tell you more about this in a separate post as it is a very good and helpful technique I think, for going against the ED voice and destroying the "rules£ that it makes for us, in their various forms.

3. Bake my own snacks so that I will be more motivated to get back into the routine of snacking regularly.
Yesssssss, what better excuse to stick to my meal plan and eat my snacks?? Because by doing so, I will give myself the perfect reason to bake and mess around with my beloved Kenwood Mixer to my heart's content. In a nutshell: eating my snacks and keeping to meal plan = more baking and I will of course post all recipes/photos on here, rest assured.. ;)

4. Make sure I make time for my hobbies and interests and for spending time with people who make me feel happy and loved. <3
I'm going to start volunteering here at home (an hour a week, visiting an elderly person in Mountmellick to keep them company and give them someone to talk to); keeping up my blogging and maybe Morokia over Christmas if I have time; make time for baking, walking Benny, knitting, and meeting a friend for a chat over hot choc - just some of the things I am going to do in order to keep me busy and occupied and distracted from the ED voice.

5. Talk back to the ED voice when it tries to sway me off track again.

Talking back to the Voice: an example dialogue...

ED. No, you don't need your snack...get out the packet of biscuits, take them out of the packet...but then just wrap them in a tissue when no one is looking, and throw them away...then they will be none the wiser...

And the past few weeks, it's true; I went along with what that Voice was telling me, agreeing with what it said, not putting up any fight. Deceiving my loved ones and throwing away food; not eating, even though my stomach felt empty and all I could think about, focus on was what i wanted so badly to eat...but the Voice said, no, you cannot; you shall not, you will not.

But now, I am determined to talk back to that voice: take up a defiant stance. And in that moment of resistance I know I will find my strength.

And so, let's write out the new dialogue.

ED: You CANNOT eat your snack.

Emmy: No.
I want to have my snack.
Why should you get to decide what I can and cannot eat? What right do you have to dictate to me how I nourish my own body?

                                         yes, I CAN!!!! :D

If I don't eat that snack...

I will just contribute to the weakening of my bones...
I will deprive my body of the vital energy it needs...
And ultimately, it will mean that I am just giving into,..the Voice of Ed...
I will just be costing mam and dad more money, more worry, more heartache.
I will just be wasting yet more and more of my life away, sacrificing each and every day to ED.

So I am going to adopt this approach, when ED tries to persuade me to not stick to my meal plan, to not finish a meal/snack, or to engage in any other ED type behaviours. I think it might help me as well to make little memos and stick them at random in places where I can always see them (ie the top of my laptop screen, my food diary, etc. just random stuff which will help keep me motivated...more on this to follow!!! ;)

6. Set myself daily and weekly goals.
And I will tell you more about this in a later post too. But the main idea of this is to set yourself individual little challenges to complete every day, so that I will be making progress week by week at a rate which is very doable and not too overwhelming. I might try sharing my goals on here as I think that will really help motivate me to accomplish them!! And if you have any suggestions let me know, thank you so so much <3 ;)

7. get as much support and help as I can.
I know I have all my loved ones, friends and readers behind me; and that I should never feel afraid or ashamed to reach out to them when things get tough.

8. Charter my progress and share my experience through my blog.
Blogging has always helped me so, so much with recovery...and in a way, I suppose, when I stopped blogging just before the relapse, that didnt really help me at all; but back then, I was in a bad place and felt too ashamed to write about my struggle. But now I am thinking about things in a different way and, though I am finding it very, very hard to let go of the anger and shame at myself...I'm trying, to move on and find peace with myself. And so I suppose you can say that the Ganache-Elf is back on the blogging scene...and her recovery journey goes on from here. :)

No matter where I turned, there was no escaping you...

...Because the thing that I was running from, was a Voice, in my very own head.

And so, it's true to say that I had a setback. Probably my worst setback since I started fighting my recovery, in terms of how I felt deep inside and my apparent inability to resist the anorexic Voice. And it was all sort of, unconscious, in a way. I didnt even seem properly aware of what was going on, on what I was doing every single day. The habits which I thought I had forever cast away, had returned again in force; becoming habitual, automatic, instinctive,  ; the "rules" ED had long ago slyly made for me, bending me to its will and forcing them to obey them...they had established themselves once again, as if they had never really ever been broken.

ED was becoming ever stronger, I, ever weaker. The days flitted past, and not one of them passed upon which I did not restrict or follow the soft, snarling dictations of the horrible little voice which had taken over my mind and brain. I could feel my willpower being ruthlessly crushed, like a daisy being trampled beneath the callous heel of some cruel, malignant beast, intent upon the little flower's eternal destruction. Trampled, to be scattered like dust upon the wind.

And so, there I was. Stuck in a hole again. And then I bbecame more aware of the familiar telltale signs. How secretive I had become, for one thing. Little rituals which I would go out of my way to conceal from everybody; and my snappy, angry response if any of my loved ones ever broached the subject of my weight. And college...college. i had gone back to Trinity: that had been my decision, after so much painful deliberation, so many tears, so many sleepless nights when I would sit up late just...thinking, thinking until my head felt as if it were about to split in too. I had wished in a way that it would. I just wanted the thoughts, the noise to stop. I just wanted that voice to be silenced.

The Voice that told me I was useless, worthless, a waste of time, a burden to everyone I loved, the most stupid and pathetic girl who had ever lived.

But the Voice was a thing that seemed to intent upon touching, tainting, corrupting ever branch, every little thread of my life...

And so I went back - or should that be, we went back - Me, and my little Voice. And I made a solemn promise to myself, to not let things get on top of me, ever again. That no matter what happened, I would be stronger than my inner demons - I would not allow myself to slip back, one bit. But another thing that the Voice apparently seems to excel in, is making up, oh-so-plausible excuses which crowd in on one another in the brain, throwing a dark and obscuring shadow over my hopes and plans and good intentions; quashing my resistance, making me believe that what it spoke was final and true.

It follows me everywhere. It first came to me so long ago, that I can't even remember, what it was like to not have my little voice. It crouched upon my shoulder in my early days at secondary school, whsipering in my ear that I needed to make myself skinnier in order for the other girls to like me. It travelled with me to America, to england, to spain, to Mallorca. Every single holiday that I had, my Voice tagged along too, not wanting to be left behind; not allowing me to leave it behind. And it came with me to college, too, of course; and it was there where my Little Voice was enabled to grow and fester, like a small but deathly fungus sporing and spreading itself across the flowerbed where the tiny, weak little flowers struggle desperately to grow. But the flowers are choked and suffocated; the fungus is too powerful, too strong. There is nothing small, nothing little about the potential deadliness of that fungus. Just like there was not about my own Little Voice.

Another Dean Clinic appointment, of Tuesday. I havent been back there, for a whole three months. Three months, since I was discharged from their care...I was so , so happy, and I truly believed that I was free, forever...free from the control and rigidness of the hospital, and free, so blissfully, happily free, from my Little Voice.

But I was never free, and I know that, now.

Knowing that once again I allowed the Little Voice to be stronger than me; that once again, I allowed it to hold and control my mind and my heart and all my actions, is enough to cause me untellable shame, and pain, and self-disgust. But that's not going to get me anywhere. So I will be strong and brave, and go along on Tuesday. I know for a fact, after all, that accepting you are struggling. Doing just that, is being strong. Doing just that, takes enormous courage, and strength, and wilpower. We have to all remember, there is no shame in asking for help, and that asking for help does not make us weak. Asking for help takes enormous strength.

I am going to go along, no matter how scary, how hard, how difficult and painful going through those familiar doors is going to be. Because I know that I need t move forward, but I can't just do this alone.

I hope that they will give me the help and guidance that I need...to support myself, to manage my own recovery, by my own. And to give me the courage and the strength that I need, to lay aside the oppressive chains of that Little Voice which has stayed with me for so, so long, and then, to walk away from it, towards the beauty of the horizon. To be free.

I will not look back.

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