I know..that this is the Write Time.

Time for me to Write, again. 
Time for me to again find my Voice. 



Not really sure where to begin, with this. As I anticipated, the things that have worked to inhibit me from blogging in the first place - namely doubt, lack of confidence, and that all too familiar fear of being judged - are taking their places in that audience in my head right now, ready and eager to start their boos and heckling. As I sit here my eyes are scanning over the words I just wrote, seeking out flaws, feeding the hungry inner critics that reside within my mind. They're all poised and ready, now - ready to judge, ready to knock me down and smash the flimsy fragments of my fragile confidence, to unretrievable, tiny shards. Ready to cause me to once again do the thing that always follows my every desperate attempt to write. To close my laptop with a frustrated snap, push it away from me. Let one single tear fall upon the ribbed black cover, as I do so. A tear born from a awareness of defeat.

Im rereading and criticising every single syllable that I just wrote, there. But this time Im not quitting the stage. Im looking that scornful audience in the eye. Doubt sneers back at me, fear leers like a grotesque jester, mocking me, trying to make me feel small. Stand down, Em. It’s past time for you to stand down!
Another tear falls as I write. Not with anguish this time. It’s a tear for what I might have lost, alot of: but which has not completely died.

Amidst the cold and the harshness

Upon the bare branches something beautiful may blossom, again.. <3

Its true alot has changed. I believe I have  lost alot of my skill, if you could have ever called it that, for writing. I never believed that I had that much in the first place - despite being praised, back in my younger days, at school, for my descriptive essays, and despite of course going to Trinity College to study English. Despite my former love of writing, making a start on my own novel, and not being physically able to go out the door without bringing one of my many notebooks with me, and a camera for taking pictures, for my blog. Ah, yes, my blog. for me, an untilmate sumbol for my love of writing. My blog symbolised for me, the residing of two powerful passions of mine in the midst of a serious eating disorder: baking, for one thing, and of course, more implicitly, writing, itself. And for years it remained that way - through the storms, through the landslides; the soaring highs and the plummeting lows. My blog was there for me - through all of that. It was the lighthouse, shining a beam of light throuigh the stormy night; the sheltered hollow on the slippery slope, into which I could retreat and take sanctuary from the cold. My blog was all of this to me, and more. It symbolised hope, and strength, and resilience; it reminded me, when the clouds gathered thick and i could not see through the driving rain, what it was I actually was really fighting for, what I had to keep on pushing towards. It reminded me of whao i was - the real Emmy. Who I wanted to be. Writing here became a key mode of expression, for me. it was here where I would channel the emotions, the feelings that were too painful or difficult for me to put into speech. And, having transcribed the pain, the frustration, the fear and the hurt I felt, out onto paper, I would attempt to make some sort of sense of them. Writing had become, for me, an integral part of my recovery.

But it seemed like ED is intent on taking every last scrap of everything that ever meant anything to me.

Many years ago, when I first became sick, it was my body which initially seemed to occupy ed's  core focus in its bid to callously distort, weaken and destroy. My mind and brain, from a cognitive point of view anyway, seemed  at first mercifully unaffected by Ed's taint. Not content, however, with the devastating physical impact it had wrecked upon my body, Ed began to turn its attention to the psychological and cognitive facets over which it knew it could have some sort of control. And just like the physical effects, the process was slow and gradual. At first, I didnt really understand what was going on: why I was suddenly crying over my lecture notes which made as much sense to me as a book written in double Dutch would; why I suddenly could not write a single sentence of my novel in the space of 30 minutes; whereas once, back in some other distant time, I could have written a whole page. Why? I used to scream to myself in anguish. Why? What’s happened to me? How did I suddenly...just...become...so dumb???

And by the time I realised what it was that was actually causing this, it was much too late to do a simple u turn, and go back.

Slowly, slowly and painfully, I teetered from the path towards destruction and ruin; onto a wholly different, but equally difficult, road. The road of recovery. And gradually, with every tentative bite and onerous meal; with every gruelling day of grinding my teeth together and forcing myself to keep on eating, while the Voice screamed like a livid Fury in my head - my body slowly began to heal. Heal what it could after years of trauma and abuse. Heal, what actually still remained, to be healed. I learnt the hard way that you cannot always reclaim what has been lost.

If only I could just walk away 

and leave you behind, ED; forever... </3

One thing though that I was confident would be restored, would be my former ability, to write. But to my horror and dismay, this did not seem to be the case. And instead of writing becoming easier  - and more “natural” to me as it once had been - as I progressed further with my physical recovery, it seemed to become, on the contrary, even the more difficult, tedious, and frustrating. And there came a point, perhaps around January of this year, when I suddenly realised that I didnt want to try anymore. Not even with my beloved blog; not even with the journalling that I had up-kept throughout the strain-filled days of anorexia. Your ability has gone, Em, the voice of doubt and self-loathing mocked. You cannot write anymore. Youve become heavier and uglier and stupider besides. You - are - worthless!!!

I gave up. I gave up, and agreed with Ed that there was not one scrap of a writer within me. 

But now Im looking my judges - the doubt, the self criticism, the perfectionism - straight in the eye. And this time I don’t back away from their glares, their scorn-filled jibes and jeers. Yes, its true. Im not the same girl as i was, 10, 9, 8 years ago. When I was the grade A student of her class, who could write page upon page of fluid composition. Im not even the same girl as I was in uni, who managed - somehow; God knows how I did it; but did it, I did - to write the 6000 word essays that enabled her to attain her college degree. Im not the same girl now. So much of what I had - just like that of my tenuous health which I allowed to become abused and neglected -  has been lost; perhaps, forever. I cant write like that anymore. I allowed ED to take alot of that away from me; my former confidence with writng, my aptitudes as regards composing a piece.

But there is one thing left to me that not even ED in all his seeming omnipotence cannot touch.

That is my love, my passion, for writing. And I know - as long as that tiny flame still flickers within me; that tiny golden candle  - I can write. I can write and I can reach out to others as I used to. I can write and tell my story. I can write and perhaps, some day, some where, inspire and touch the hearts of others.

And I know now that this is the Right Time. The....Write, time. The Time to Write. 



I’ve refound my Voice.

The Task

The writer in me is frustrated and irritable. And has been the past few weeks, ever since I got that little urge, that sudden and unexpected desire to write Morokia again. Come on, Em, let's get back into it. Or the story will never be told.

But it's not good enough, another voice answered it, sadly, to be followed swiftly by another. And we need to focus on the job search.

That's your priority right now, Em. Get a job!! Earn some money!! Too long have you been here relying on mam and dad to provide for you!! Lazy, hopeless girl...

Like a blaring siren the sentences repeated themselves, over and over, in the cramped confinements of the chamber of my brain.

And it was only a matter of time before the siren became too unbearably, painfully loud.



Since I came back from Lapland, trying to find a job has proven to be a source of purpose and direction to me, in the sense that I, as a writer, have always liked to have had a little writing project to focus on - a project which satisfied that occasional need to dabble in the artistry of the written word. And the more I felt that "project" was of some sort of practical use - was going to be of benefit to someone, was going to contribute towards some significant cause - the better. And to that guilty, niggling part of my brain which was squirming in guilt and indignation at the fact that I was still unemployed, the task of finding a job was certainly the most significant task I could possibly commit myself to at this point in my life.

So I turned away from Morokia's unexplored landscapes; the epic battles raging between good and evil, the characters who I had come to know so well that they seemed real, breathing people, with minds and hearts and stories of their own. I turned away from that fantastical landscape, and concentrated all my energies on something which I knew was much more imperative: finding a job. I say "concentrated all my energies"  because doing job applications to someone like me is no straightforward task. The perfectionist streak of me demanded everything to be immaculate and without flaw. Any mistake on my part would result in a fury-filled inner berating which would then in turn leave me edgy and disconcerted for days. But I continued with my teeth set firmly together, as if I was making myself walk through a storm of drenching icy rain.

And so it comes as no surprise that equally my self-set job of finding a job has been a cause of misery, frustration, and more often than not, despair. A procedure so torturous and painful, it seems almost equatable to having the skin torn, shred by little shred, by a toothed bramble enmeshed around the legs, impeding movement, disabling you from moving on: yet biting into you, too, if you remain still and cease to move. At each little tear I would bleed that little bit more. Yet another unanswered email; yet another application which has been ignored, rejected, dismissed straight out of hand? Oh, you're useless, Em. Clearly no one wants to employ you. Save the place in Shrewsbury which you no longer want, and were to weak to take on. Now you've let it go and you're doomed, Em!! No one else will employ you. Ever. You're a complete and utter worthless piece of sh**!!

The other day I could not take it anymore. I shut the laptop with a snap and just cried. Was there really nothing out there? It certainly seemed so. I felt so afraid that it seemed every scrap of my courage had been stretched and wrung out to dry in a harsh, baking sun. That they had been stretched to the point of being snapped apart, leaving me with nothing but untraceable, indistinct fibres.

And that's when mam came and reminded me ofsomething which I, in the chilling depeths of my despairing, had inevitably lost sight of in my mind. Wave upon wave of heavy black misery had washed over me, but when mam reached out and took my hand to pull me from the water again, I could just perceive fthrough the mist and the fog that path through the choppy seas which I know I cannot afford to fall away from.

And mam reminded me of the most important truth of all. That yes, it is important that I try to find a job. But as important as my recovery? As important as beating ED? Not so.

Just don't get so stressed that you fall back into bad habits, Emmy. And right then her words filled me with strength. And even more so that I can attest to the fact that it is not "falling backwards" is not the danger here. No. For despite how stressed and desperate I have felt, I am still eating. Eating well and good. Eating the same amounts every day. But that's where the problem lies. The same amounts. My stress and anxiety hasn't impacted me in a way which has made me go backwards; no. I am strong enough to inhibit that from happening, now.

Rather, it has taken a toll in so far as I haven't quitepossessed the motivation to increase my meal plan that wee bit more, as I know I need to do, to gain the final bit of weight.

And, on reflecting on it all later, I realised that no, I was not quite right in asserting that finding a job as quickly as possible is the most important and critical task for me to accomplish right now. It's important, yes; but I just need to pause now and ask myself a crucial question. Is successfully fulfilling this task going to play any major part in contributing towards my health, my physical and mental recovery? Is bending over backwards to obtain employment going to help me save the most important and valuable asset that I will ever, ever own?

My body?

The answer is to all these questions of course, is no. No, finding a job as urgently as possible isn't going to heal all the damage done inside, or make my periods come. No, getting that job isn't going to help improve my osteoporosis, or increase my chances of recovery.

And this is what I have to remind myself now. My principal task is recovery. I'll carry out all the other tasks alongside that one, job-hunting included. But this one takes priority.

Journey to the Summit

And so I sat in my little writing room with the laptop open and my fingers resting on the keys; poised to type, but today, the words would not quite come. I wanted to blog but the tiny number on the page view statistic page mocked me. Who cares about your stupid work Em? You might as well give up right now.

I know though deep down I will not. I will always be a writer, and I will be drawn back to it even when - as I do, quite frequently - feel disheartened or disillusioned about my work. Even if noone else is really reading, these words mean still alot to me. Releasing pain through my words; channelling out fears and insecurities out onto that exposed white page. It has always been healing for me. And that little number on the page view screen is irrelevant, really; my blog is worth alot more to me than that. What's important is that is the charter of my own recovery journey. And in chronicling that journey I hope that I help - or at least, have helped - many others along the way.

One thing I learnt as an English lit student is never to underestimate the power of writing. Over the years, ever since the first form of writing appeared, the written word has held the power to inspire and excite, to move not only emotions, but people and nations themselves.: to cause both the weak and the strong to look towards change.

And just like Luther writing his controversial pamphlets; and the Gawain-Poet composing his intricate, beautiful poems. I want to leave my mark, too. I want to make people pause and think. More than anything I want through the power of my words to bring about a real change.

So that's my bit of...warbling done for the day💙
Now what I really wanted to talk about is where I currently stand. Where am I in my recovery? Where do I now stand upon the mountain?

Well I'm climbing. I've climbed high enough now to be able to appreciate just something of that beautiful view.
There's fruit trees growing here, at this point upon the mountain. And I'm enabled to actually reach out and pluck their fruit with trembling, tentative hands. The fruit is as wonderful and as tantalisingly sweet as I imagined. But there is a clause, as ever. Only a few fruit trees grow here. The rest remain far up the path, only reachable if I choose, to go on.

I feel something akin to what I felt, all those years ago, on that sunlit day in late April, when the trees bore forth fresh new leaves the colour of polished emerald; and sweet fragrances, delicate fragrances filled the air, scents of moist earth and blossoming flowers; the fragrances which looked toward the early summer. And it was upon that day that I went with mam and dad to Kinnity in my beloved Slieve Blooms; to do a walk which for constituted my first proper ramble since getting my osteoporosis diagnosis. Having received the devastating news which for me, at the time, had had an impact easily equatable to that of a death sentence, I had been forbidden to engage in any form of physical activity until, at the very least, my weight had reached a certain point, and I had been seen by the rheumatologist for his specialist opinion.

But then came that day when the prison gates were flung open and the sanctions were taken away. My soul and my body felt like they had finally been set free.

We climbed to the midway point of the mountain, and I stood upon the sandy skinned rock of the outcrop, and looked down at the magnificence stretched out below me. I wanted to absorb every inch of the scene, down to the very tiniest of details barely visible to my vision.

Hard to believe that it's almost three years ago

that this picture was taken...

And oh, the feeling.

Looking down at how far Id come. It had taken so much out of me to get here. But now I had done it, and was enabled to perceive myself the wonders of that beautiful, beautiful view.

But then I realised with a jolt that we had not reached the summit. And mam and dad were walking on, not upwards, but along the little path that looped around the side of the mountain. As I watched, mam turned and beckoned towards me. Not today, Emmy, she had said gently. Not today. You're not strong enough, yet.

That day I was not strong or ready enough to go further, despite my fervent longing to do so. And in a way, that has how it has been since then, as regards my ongoing recovery journey. Much as I wanted to move onwards, I just was not ready to do so. The inner strength and resilience required was simply not quite there, just yet. But now, in this brand new year, I feel as if I have finally found somewhere in me that inner strength, which will enable me to climb higher, and higher.

The changes I have put into place, so far this year.

• I renewed my efforts to break down just some of the many, many rules that Ed established for me to keep me in half recovery. 
• I'm due to make an appointment with an endrocronoligist that I was referred to by my doctor in trinity. The cost of the appointment is enough to make me want to recoil, but I am going to make myself go. For too long have I ignored my absent periods, clinging to the lingering hope that they would eventually come back by themselves. I'm really hoping the consultant will be able to give me some advice as to how I should address this, as well as her thoughts on my current weight, bmi and diet.
• I've started the frightening but necessary process of tapping into my oldest fears and demons. The bloating, of course; of no longer being the skinny girl, and the compulsion to do x amount of exercise.  
• I'm no longer content to let ED manipulate my thoughts and twist them in a way so that I am constantly filled with loathing and dislike for my body. Rather, I am striving to accept. Accept and respect, and to realise just how valuable my body really is to me. And then maybe in time, I will learn to love. It's a long and hard road ahead but I know that some day I will get there.

What I need to do now..is...

• Gain the rest of the weight that I know I need to; and allow my body to be the healthiest it can be.                                                                                                                                               But this goal is by its own nature one framed by uncertainty. Just how much exactly do I need to gain? What is the "healthy" weight for my body?
• I'd like very much to find a little part-time job; a job which would then allow me to both earn a wage while simultaneously enabling me to focus on myself and my recovery. I'd like very much to commit to therapy. If only though I could find something. I've been looking since I returned home and thus far my efforts have proved fruitless.
• Dismantle the long-established beliefs ED long ago established for me, about myself and my body.
• Continue to break ED's rules and push myself far beyond his boundaries.
• Seriously consider as to what it is that is going to enable me to climb higher than I ever have done so before. 

Kinnity <3

The quest for Morokia! :) Will you fight alongside me? :)

Ok!! Before there are any misunderstandings about this unusual blog post title - no, I am not going off to join the army or the navy; and neither am I planning on embarking upon some fabulous quest for a place that perhaps is bordering Morocco, since the two of them sound vageuly the same; or some other far-flung place that noone really knows about. No, no no! bear with me while I explain: I know my titles can be a little cryptic sometimes. Perhaps there's a bit of an English student left in me, after all.

No, this month (weather depending - if its a really hot and sunny and tropical August (which is highly unlikely, living here in the beautiful Emerald Isle...but hey, you never know!;) ) I do intend on embarking upon a mission of sorts, though. I want to return...to Morokia. As in, I want to start writing again: I want to tell my story, the story of Morokia. I want to narrate this moving, grippingly compelling, complex, engagingly emotional story and make it my own: I want to make it the epic fantasy trilogy  which I intended it to be; which I know it has the capacity to be.

But, the thing is, I know, that I won't ever be able to return to Morokia, in the company of Ed.

Because with Ed, I will never be able to concentrate and focus on what I am writing, give Morokia the necessary care and attention to detail that it deserves. I won't be able to dedicate the time and effort needed to compose a fantasy epic like Morokia. I literally won't be able to sit down for the length of time necessary to write a sufficient quantity of work. why? Because, as I know all too well, after I have been sitting down for any given length of time - yes, and even now, this does happen, frequently; I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't - this little Voice slyly creeps into my head and begins to whisper harshly to me, over and over and over, becoming more insistent with every passing minute. You need to get up. You need to get up. You have sat for too long, You need to be doing something active. Go outside and do a few paces up and down the garden, then you can come back in again. Then and only then. Stand up now and do some squats. Go walk up the stairs and get that biro you left up there this morning, I know you don't really need it, but anyway, you need to move. Move. Move. MOVE!! 

Just a sample dialogue, of the many, many conversations between me and ED.

And so I want you to all fight beside me, against the Voice, the Voice of ED. Fight against the Voice, which has caused us so, so much heartache and suffering and pain. Fight against this Voice which demands that we harm and hurt ourselves, our own bodies, the people that we love and who love us. Fight against the Voice which has tried to take so much away from us.

The Voice in my Head stole so much from me...

And yes, sadly, Morokia was one of those things. For years I have literally been unable to write Morokia: I have physically not been capable of sitting down in front of a computer screen and typing my story. for numerous reasons, ranging from not being able to concentrate, not being able to formulate the sentences in my head; not being able to sit down for any length of time without feeling extreme anxiety over the fact that in sitting there, trying to write, I could easily be spending that time doing exercise, instead. Sitting down, for long or even short periods of time, was a big problem for me; I had to always be constantly on the move; and this was one of my biggest obstacles to getting any of Morokia written. And then there was the exhaustion and fatigue. Often in the past when I attempted to sit and write, I would end up just sitting there, fingers immobile upon the keyboard, as I felt so utterly drained of energy that I was unabble to write anything. Othertimes, my starving body was just so hungry, that to sit down with a blank page in front of me, would evoke nothing for me but frustration and feelings of self-hatred, as all I could think about - no word of a lie - was food, food, and food. What I should have eaten earlier that day, what I would like to eat that moment, but of course, was not going to allow myself to have; what I might be made to have for dinner later on, and how difficult that was going to be. No matter how hard I tried to turn my thoughts onto what I wanted to write, it wouldn't be long before images and thoughts of food would bubble up again, suppressing everything else. So almost 100 percent of the time, I would just give up writing anything, and go off to do something "active" instead, as that was the only thing I could really focus on.

But things ARE different now. Alot has changed, since the last time I tried to write Morokia. And I never want to deprive my body of the nourishment it deserves ever again; and I am going to fight this Voice, this demon in my head, with every bit of strength and courage that I have. And I will return to Morokia, again, and this time, ED will not be able to stop me.

The heroes and heroines of Morokia are fighting their battle against the evil which threatens to destroy them...And I am going to join them, in a battle of my own ...and I want you to join us to. Fight against the evil, cruel, malignant Voice which threatens to hurt and destroy us, to take away everything which we hold dear. Take courage and stay strong!! <3 xxx

Thank YOU so, so much :) xxx and a little sneak peek at the Cocoa Stains 2015 will bring to my Apron! ;)

I can't express how touched I was by the meaningful, lovely comments written on my last post in which I invited you to respond as to what you would like to see more of on My Cocoa Stained Apron. How can I thank you enough? <3 Well, i can't, really, of course, except say it right here, once again: thank you so, so SO much!!!! (x100000000) I know some might think I'm crazy for getting so excited and emotional about something like this, but do I mind? Of course not ;) maybe I am crazy...in a good way, of course. Is there anyone in my vicinity who is as crazy about baking as me? I don't think so! ;)

thanks to all of YOU, my special readers, I now have a clearer idea of how I am going to go about making My Cocoa Stained Apron even better (and even more chocolatey ;) ) in 2015. I thought I would just give you a quick outline before I proceed ever further, of the sort of things I would be posting about in the next few months - or should I say, year. ;)

• I will continue to write my personal posts, in which I will describe the steps I am currently taking in my battle to overcome my eating disorder. In these posts, I outline the fears and anxieties I face, the challenges I hope to overcome, the changes and achievements I am looking to make. These posts also serve, for me, to charter my progress in recovery, from sickness to health.
• In addition to my personal posts in which I talk about my own experiences, I also think I might try to write some advice posts. As I mentioned beforehand, I wondered whether I was really in a position to do this, since I still have alot more work to do in striving to recover from my eating disorder. But I have thought about it and yes, I believe I do have some advice to give, to people who have suffered in a similar way as I have.
• And then there will be the odd baking post! Each time I bake I am going to try to be a bit more creative and original, and if I'm happy with the result and think it's looks, err, well presentable (the maple syrup oat cookies that I made last week most certainly did NOT match this description!!! :p ) I will post it on here with my own recipe, tips and thoughts. In addition to that I might give the odd post with specific baking tips and tricks and what I call baking secrets. (Just make sure you don't tell anyone... ;) ) . I might also create a new page on my blog called the National Bakery, where I will categorise specific recipes according to their country of origin. I really want to embrace a multicultural way of baking this year and take advantage of the wonderful diversity of baked foods from all around the world. :)
• And also: Morokia! I think I will be blogging a bit more about Morokia this year, because it's something that, in the next few months, I am very eager to get started on once again; and what with having no college work to deter me over the next few months, I will have plenty of time to reflect on, plan, and write the trilogy that at one time was something which I derived great pleasure and enjoyment from. But I'm determined to rediscover that passion. And so what I might do is, as well as telling you a bit about the context of Morokia and about the story and characters in general, I might include some actual excerpts from the story itself. 
• At the request of another lovely reader, I am also going to compose some posts about Ireland and the Irish way of life. And since the Irish countryside is so beautiful, I will of course post some pretty pics with these posts :)
• And then of course...the odd random post!! Like when I got my little Christmas box from my reader in Germany <3 - times like that, when I feel like I am literally bursting with a combination of different emotions, I just can't stop myself from hastily opening up my laptop and expressing my feelings through writing on my blog! :)

So that's a little outline of what I'm going to be doing from now on...though if you have any other ideas, suggestions, comments, feedback - please do let me know; I would love to hear from you :)

 (me blogging this summer...haha terrrrrrrrible pic :p )

What do YOU want me to blog about? :)

Another rather random post!!! But I had to ask and I would be so, so pleased if you could perhaps let me know what you think about this :) <3

When I started writing My Cocoa-Stained Apron, I never, ever really expected to get any readers/followers. But contrary to my expectations...I know now, people do read my blog. I have readers...who have become more than just readers to me. rather, I think of you, my readers, as dear, special friends, who motivate me and help me to push myself forward whenever I feel lost or useless or hopeless, or that I really cant' go on.

Anyway, before I get all emotional and gushy again as I normally tend to do!! - I just wanted to put this question out to you all...that question being, as suggested by the title of this post...what do YOU want me to blog about? What posts do you think I should try to write more of...what do you find the most interesting? What kind of blog would you like My Cocoa-Stained Apron to be?

Up to this point, I suppose, my blog has been a bit a sort of hybrid blog in which I share my own favourite baking recipes, while simultaneously recording and reflecting on my experiences of an eating disorder - what I went through when I was sick, the steps I made towards recovery, my own personal thoughts, feelings and fears. yet I today I wondered if there was anything more I could do to improve my blog, to make it more engaging for you. Do you have any advice/thoughts? Or should I pretty much carry on as I have been doing up to this point?

My own stance on it is, well, I think the combination of both culinary and personal works well, and gives me both stimulation and a sense of creativity in organising both. Sometimes I think I would like to do a bit  more work on the baking side of My Cocoa-Stained Apron - along the lines of focusing on experimenting with different recipes traditional to specific countries of the world, sharing my own tips and advice as a baker, etc. But then I sway more towards the concentrating on the part of My Cocoa-Stained Apron which deals with the story and recovery of the girl with an eating disorder. I love writing my baking posts, but at the same time, I find writing about my eating disorder is in itself an enormous help to me in so many different ways - and perhaps to others, too.

As well as my personal posts, I often consider doing posts in which I give advice and so forth...but then I stop myself again ; because I am uncertain as to whether I am in a position to give such advice, since I am not, well,fully  recovered , so to speak. Though perhaps, I still do have something valuable to offer people.

And then of course there is Morokia...would you like to hear more about my trilogy? And if I get round actually writing it...should I include some excerpts on here? :)

And so....what do YOU think? I would be so, so grateful for any comments/advice/thoughts. 

And, as always...Thank you so, so much for reading My Cocoa Stained Apron, everyone <3 You have no idea how much this means to me. :)

My 2015 new year resoultions!! :) :D

I know this is sort of random...but I thought I would just share my new year's resolutions with you! ;) And some of them are after all related to what my blog is all about - that being, of course, recovery and cooking/baking.

And can I just take this opportunity to wish all my readers a very, very happy new year <3 I hope that 2015 will be a happy, healthy and enjoyable year for you, full of smiles and fun and good times, and all those special moments which make our lives so magical. :)

Anyway, in no particular order....

Ganache-Elf's 2015 New Year Resolutions. :)

1. To fight even harder against my eating disorder, and strive to reach full recovery.
2. To become even better at cooking/baking!! :) And to get lots of variety into what I make. This year I am determined to be more organised and plan what I am going to do at the beginning of each week - no more going to the cupboard like I did the other day, set on making a cherry cake...only to find not only am I appallingly low on glace cherries - shock, HORROR!! How could I have ran out of one of my baking cupboard's essentials?? - but I also didn't have any ground almonds. 
3. To be tidier!! haha..something my mam is always giving out to me about ;)
4. To continue to develop my Cocoa-Stained Apron ;) I really want to try to write at least one post a day! :)
5. To write Morokia!! :)
6. To focus more on the "crafty" things I enjoy too - ie. knitting scarves (and maybe sometime in the future....HATS :p ) and painting by numbers. :)
7. To cook, and try, new foods! To experiment with different cuisines.
8. I would really like to try and learn a bit of a new language... Spanish I have a teency (and I MEAN teency ;) bit of. so I wouldn't mind learning more of that. Or perhaps piciking up French or Irish again...I learnt these two languages in school, but as is often the case when you aren't regularly practising a language, exposing yourself to it on a weekly basis through speech and written word, then all that vocabulary and grammar you committed to memory is forgotten. Or maybe an entirely different one? German perhaps? ;)
9. To volunteer in my local community - something I have never done before, but which I have always aspired to do. I particularly would like to work with children or elderly people.

I might make more of these, but now it's time for breakfast and I can't think of anymore for the present. Happy new year everyone <3 

From the frozen hard ground of winter...a beautiful spring bud bursts forth.:)

As I sit here in the conservatory with my laptop, the pale yellow November sun casts its rays upon the garden, making the whole scene assume a kind of solemn sublimity, further heightened by the soft silence that is broken only by the occasional harsh trill of a blackbird, or soft, soothing cooing of a dove. The trees are almost bare now, their branches skeleton-like and dark against the emerald green of the grass at their roots. The sunlight though dances upon their tall, majestic forms, turning patches of the brown bark turn to dapples of gold; and throwing long shadows upon the ground; shadows which lengthen and amplify as the sun slips further and further down beneath the Slieve Blooms to the west.
 it is a scene capable of evoking, for me anyway, the first crucial and fundamental ideas which are brought together to produce a work of art... I'm not really much of a painter (I enjoy painting and drawing but I fear Van Gogh and Da Vinci and Monet would all be turning in their graves if they saw one of my various attempts at creating a "Masterpiece" ... :p ) so for me this would most likely be a story of some kind. I don't know if you recall but there was one time when writing was my one time favourite hobby... but that all changed when I went to college. Writing became, for me, a source of stress and frustration as a pose to enjoyment and pleasure. I became isolated and detached from my own little writing projects that had previously meant the world to me...more than that; they were my world; and I invested a large amount of time and effort in them.

But here I am now, at home in my own little environment, away from college and the bustle of the city. There is no pressure to do anything, no rush to be anywhere, no essays to read or assignments to write. The only thing I have to focus on is...myself.

And really, I have all the time in the world to do whatever I feel like doing. Including writing...and I am glad to say that my former passion for writing has been rekindled. Perhaps it's only a spark, but who knows...that spark might become a flame, and then that little flame into an unquenchable fire which nothing will be able to extinguish. :) For I am hopeful that, once I get back into writing again...there will be no stopping me. This is what happened with my baking addiction and blogging, after all. Who's to say it won't happen again with my writing? :)

My first writing project which I want to dedicate some of my time towards, is something which I started a few years ago. And though I haven't done any work on it for a long time, the themes, subject matter, and characters of Morokia still hold, for me, a compelling fascination and a certain captivation... which has not, thankfully, been tainted or touched in any way by the disappointing and dispiriting experiences I have undergone in choosing to study English at Trinity. Or by my ED, of course.

And now I realise something which fills me with a sense of hope...which serves to somewhat dispel the feelings of uselessness, ineptitude, and worthlessness that seem to frequently occupy my head. I know that for the past 8 years I have been used, abused, and manipulated by my ED. It's always been the one that's been in control; it never ceased to not have the advantage over weak, defenseless Emmy. But now it's time, I think, for a reversal of roles. Instead of me being used and exploited consistently by my ED...it's now a case of I, the Ganache-Elf, being the one who has the upper hand.

I have always been a firm believer in the theory that one of the best strategies to adopt when it comes to writing is to write what you are familiar with, what you know. Haha. Morokia is a medieval story. Am I an expert on the Middle Ages? No. So yes one could argue I am most definitely contradicting myself here. But! In my defence..ok, maybe I can't say I know an awful lot about medieval stuff. Rather, it is through the sufferings and experiences of my characters, their various trials and tests and individual struggles, where I can really put my own knowledge and experience into play. For all of these can function as a mirror or a reflection of my own life, my own personal battles. It's like I am inserting a little piece of my own personality into my own characters and matching their worldly experiences with my own.

My feelings of inadequacy and inferiority; of worthlessness, helplessness, desperation...and my belief that I don't belong. Of feeling like a failure and a hopeless cause. fearing of change and the future. Wanting desperately to mature, but simultaneously longing to remain as that small little girl who wants to remain protected and closeted away from the harsh, cold, unfeeling world.

The character that I relate with the most is Begonia, who is a young princess abducted from her home as a child. While she is imprisoned, Begonia, despite being fed relatively well by her captors, begins to refuse to eat and stunts her growth. At the tender age of twenty-two, her radiant and startling beauty remains, but she has the body of a child and her body is infertile. Begonia's willingness to starve herself is brought about by a deep self-hatred and a desire to punish her own body. When one of the heroes of the trilogy, the young knight Connor, liberates her, she falls in love with the dashing young man, but is torn with despair at the thought that her barrenness will repel him. It doesn't of course - Connor loves her for as she is and not for her ability to reproduce children - but Begonia is desperate to make up for the damage and abuse she has put her body through all through her teenage years. She makes a brave attempt at restoring her weight and nursing herself back to health. Gradually, she becomes healthier, and she is filled with delight when her menstruation begins. However, her malignant half-brother drives the lovers apart and forces Begonia to marry a wealthy lord of his own choice. Begonia becomes disillusioned with misery and wretchedness. She sinks right back down into her old ways, purposely starving herself in order to undo the repair she has done and make her body barren once again in the hope this will repulse her new husband. As the trilogy commences, Connor's own intrepid endeavours to unite his divided, war-striken country are matched with his lover's personal battle with her own eating disorder, as she struggles to escape the manipulative voice in her head that whispers that she is of no worth, she deserves to die, and that she should destroy herself and rid the world of an existence that is of no significance.

And so I suppose one could say...we can make little flowers grow from something so cold and hard and cruel. by this I mean, that from the sufferings and struggles I underwent in my experience of an eating disorder...I can create something beautiful and positive and nurturing. I can translate my experiences through my writing and produce a unique and meaningful work of art. And in doing so, I can reach out again, in the same way as I have done with my blog...I can touch the hands of those like me who are have been, or currently are, fighting the same battle as I have fought for the past 8 years. Begonia does, as the third book in my trilogy reveal, recover from her ED and makes that crucial and fundamental recognition which I want all of you who are reading this to realise, too. You are beautiful, you are worth it, you deserve life and you should never, never let anyone  - including your ED - let you think otherwise. So strive to be what you want to be. Love, laugh, live...open your eyes and see the sunlight streaming through your bedroom window like liquid gold. Dip your feet into the waters of the ocean and feel the spine-tingling coolness against your skin. Walk amongst the primroses and the new green shoots of spring and hear the birds call to you from the trees. Your life is worth more than a treasure trove of diamonds and you deserve to live it the way you want it to be. :)

And NOW it's time to blog. :)

One of the things that has been bothering me of late as you might have noted, is the fact that I haven't been able to blog much at all, like I did in summer. :( But yes, I have come up with a solution to my dilemma...
 I am going to set aside some time to blog. This will mainly be...

• When I have my hot choc breaks at home. Blog and hot choc? I couldn't be happier. :)
• When I'm travelling by train or car or bus...I might try making notes or writing drafts, and then transferring them to my laptop once I get home. 
• After dinner, about 9 am, is going to be my "me time". I'm not going to just waste my time anymore trying to read or do college stuff...there is just no point and I was only kidding myself in the past thinking I was getting something productive done at this time of the day. Instead I am going to blog, or bake, or knit...something I like. :)

I know that my Cocoa-Stained Apron is not yet complete. I still have alot to say about my baking, my cooking, my life and my recovery. I still have advice to give and recipes to share. Why should I stop blogging because of college? There's no way that I am going to. 

 I think, you see, that recovering from my ED has really helped me to realise that life IS a gift. That every day is precious, and that we all really should live for the moment...and that it is so, so important that we set aside a little time every day to do the things we love. And for me, alongside many other seemingly simple, but truly wonderful things that I do every day in my life, which make me so, so happy...there is blogging, and reaching out to others in this world. And spreading the love of all things chocolate too perhaps, as my next post will fully testify. ;) 

Being back at coll....and how things ARE better. :)

If you have read my blog before, you probably already know that I don't really like my course and that my whole college experience hasn't been the most enjoyable one. I know I can't help disliking the course. But as for college itself? Well, I know all too well that unfortunately, I did let my ED essentially tarnish my experience of being at university... I allowed it to affect me physically, mentally, psychologically, and intellectually, in a number of negative and damaging ways. I didn't realise it at the time...or maybe I did, but I refused to acknowledge it to myself; just as I refused to admit to myself that I had an ED.
 But this year...this year is going to be alot different.
 I went to the library today for the first time ever since starting back. It's not one of my favourite places, to be honest, as for me it reminds me of...a few things. whenever i go and sit in one of the silent, shadowy rooms, surrounded by so many studious-looking young people who seem so thoroughly engrossed in a massive book of impossibly minute script, or whose eyes seems permanently glued to their laptop while they fingers rap upon the keypad in rather startling comparism, or who have their desk strewn with paper upon paper of neat, concise handwriting...whenever i go and sit in there I immediately am reminded of several things from my past two years in Trinity.

First of all of course...my general feelings of inadequacy... That I can't do this; that my course is a lost case and that coming here to try and study is just a lost cause as I am going to do shit anyway.
And then...hunger. Of wanting to eat, so desperately - but not permitting myself to.
And because I was hungry, I couldn't focus or concentrate. All I could think about was food, and how long it would be till my next intake of something small. And so the hours would drag painfully on, and on, and on.
 How much time I wasted, how many tears of frustration and misery my inability to work caused me...it brings a hard lump to my throat when I look back at it, now. Especially in the knowledge that it was entirely my own fault and that I could have done something about it easily...but I was too afraid to change. And what if I did eat more and gain weight...and I was still unable to concentrate?

But then today I had a new sense of hope. I can't say that I came out the library after a couple of hours, having finished off what I wanted to do, full of confidence and self-appraisal, of course...that's just me. But I was able to concentrate, and I did what I needed to do, and I was happy enough with it. AND of course...I wasn't starving hungry. Before I had gone in there I scoffed the brown submarine roll I had made earlier with fresh tomatoes and hard-boiled egg, followed by a delightfully crisp Granny Smith. And just in the off chance that these wouldn't quite deter my peckishness until I was done, a variety of little snackrels were strategically stowed at the bottom of my bag: granola bar, Twix, banana, and a blackberry yoghurt to name a few. ;)

I know that I will never be good at my course. I know now I am no longer the academic, studious girl that I used to be at shcool, who would experience a rush of disappointment and anxiety if she didn't get the top grade in that biology test, or who might be found, right into the hours of the late evening, pouring over scribbley notes by lamplight or reciting key quotes and phrases so that they would be the last ever thing in my head before I went to sleep that night. No, that's not me anymore...to be honest with you, if I manage to get my pass in my degree, I will be both surprised, and satisfied. But at least now things are better, and that I have the energy and courage to try my best. To study as well as I can, without killing myself, and to do everything that I'm capable of to get through the final two years of my course. My ED might have played a part in making the first two years seem like a hellish, never-ending battle, but this is where the struggle ends; this is where my real life begins and when people can really get to see the real me. :)

Where will my blogging take me from here...

I find it hard to believe that I've been writing My Cocoa-Stained Apron for a few months, now. Writing it has really become part of my everyday routine. Whenever I wake up in the morning one of the first things I actually think of is what I might blog about today; and I spend many a hot chocolate break strolling through my blog and editing spelling mistakes, etc (though I am quite sure that there are many more ;) ). But it really has been such a special and meaningful journey for me. I've discovered that I love to blog and that i still do love to write. It's not that I can't write, I understand now...I can. But I write best about the things that mean alot to me; and I know that for me writing is something that I don't want to do at all hours of the day...I think for me, writing will always be a hobby. Not something that I want to spend my life doing.
I really do hope I will still be able to write when I go to college...in fact I am determined that I will, though perhaps not to the extent to which I have been able to over summer. I will still be baking, after all. And I want to focus still on trying new recipes and develop on the ones I've created myself.
 And My Cocoa-Stained Apron has really helped to erode my sense of worthlessness and ineptitude and show to me that...yes, I can bake, I AM a baker and I have my own little style and strengths. :) Last year I went for the Irish Bake-Off on TV3...of course I only got as far as the first set of interviews (though that, in itself, was an achievement of sorts for me anyway!) but I am keen to have another stab at it this year. AND maybe even the British one, too. I know I don't have much of a chance of getting that far or anything...but well you never know unless you try.
 And I plan to continue writing posts about my ED, too, and everything I went through and everything I remember...and try to give heartfelt advice to anyone out there who is struggling as I was. I know I am no expert, but what I know with certainty is that eating disorders are rotten, horrible, destructive things that wreck people's lives and cause so much hurting and pain and suffering. And that I would do anything that I could in my power to help all those men, women, girls, boys who are burdened with this horrific disease. And so this is where I start I suppose...writing a blog which I hope can make you realise that recovery is possible...and that there are hundreds of people out there like you. Be brave and take that first crucial step like I did earlier on this summer...tell someone, seek help, and don't wait or falter for any longer. Only you can decide to change your own life. I know how important the help, support and love of others is at this time...but you must know that if you want to get better you need to want it...and not have others just on your case all the time, telling you you need to change...a big part of this ball game is in your court, now. So don't shy away and let the ball drop from your hands...be a player...take control of your own life rather than letting an ED control you.

Thank you, My Cocoa-Stained Apron…

Ok…so why are you thanking your own blog/dirty apron, Ganache-Elf?? Well I am sort of thanking both, actually…but why and why now? Let me explain. As I keep on bewailing and lamenting…summer is drawing to a close. And unfortunately…I’m not quite sure where my blogging will be going from here…will I have the time to blog when back at coll. I will want to, of course – I would much, much rather blog than do any of my course-related stuff. If we lived in a world where we could all just do what our hearts truly desired…? Well I don’t think I’d ever go back…but I feel as if I have to, and not going back is just not realistic and affordable.

But hey, I might e wrong…I hope that I am wrong, I hope that I will be able to continue with my logging once college starts again. Because I have found that I do love blogging, that I haven’t completely lost my old love for writing…and that My Cocoa Stained Apron has developed into something truly special, for me. I know I probably don’t have any readers, that my blog is probably just one tiny seed in a massive field of wheat…there are so many fascinating and interesting blogs out there I know, and I am sure that they are a thousand times better than my own one. But, anyway…even if I haven’t helped anyone else, even if my recipes will never be read, let alone be of use to anyone…well, I can still say that My Cocoa-Stained Apron has helped me to…

·         Beat my ED…by acting as a diary of sorts where I could record and reflect on all that happened to me, to the changes I made and the goals that I wanted to achieve…by allowing me to take note of all the habits and patterns of behaviour that I wanted to be free of…for enabling me to tell the world how I really feel.

·         Connect with my old love of writing…and prove to myself that I can still write; that I’m not completely useless. My Cocoa-Stained Apron has made me realise that if something means a lot to me, then I can write about it: that I WANT to write about it, too.

·         Realise that I am a baker and a cook…that I love food and that I love working with it. My blog has allowed me to share the recipes that I love and cook in my own kitchen, as well as acting as a place where I can record what I bake/cook every week and acknowledge that I am actually quite adventurous and diverse when it comes to cooking…I’m always ready to take on a challenge and try something new, while at the same time staying true to the classic timeless recipes I’ve been making ever since I started my baking journey.

And of course...I have my faithful apron to thank, too. For through baking and blogging I've come to realise how much I love food, writing about food, and eating delicious things...and without a doubt both my blog and my baking has helped me defeat my eating disorder for good.

The reasons why the Ganache-Elf decided to finally wash her sticky fingers and sit down with a laptop to embark upon her first ever blogging journey.

I didn’t just wake up one sunny day in June 2014 filled with a sudden urge to start blogging. Rather, it’s been something which I’ve wanted to do for a good while, but always put off or didn’t get around to doing. But for me, this particular blog - in chartering both my baking and my recovering from an eating disorder - has allowed itself to assume a special significance. There’s a few reasons why I chose to write it and so I thought before we resume that I’d just outline these to you first.

In regard to the eating disorder, I believe that blogging is just one of the many things that is helping me to get better again and to leave all traces of that awful, awful condition -  which for years had sought to diminish my happiness and well-being and essentially corrupt my relationship with food -  far, far behind. How? Well, I don’t know if you can relate to this from your own experience, but in writing and describing what I went through - the abnormal thoughts, how it all began, what I ate then in comparism to what I eat now - I am enabled to look back upon it all and realise how bad it really was and to dismiss all those potential doubts about weight gain. One thing I really hope you will come to understand through my blog is that gaining weight - especially for someone like me who, due to the eating disorder, had always tried to eat as little as possible for such a long time - is anything but easy. Even now, I still have to face misgivings, hesitations, uncertainties; it’s not all plain sailing. But in writing my blog I have a written record of all these doubts and challenges. And in writing them in this way - and in sharing them with my readers - I believe that they can be controlled.

I know there’s a good possibility that my blog won’t be read. But if there was any realistic way a normal girl like me could reach out to anyone who’s struggling, as I was, with an eating disorder, then I think that blogging is the way to go. And that’s another reason why I’m writing today. I know all too well what living with an eating disorder is really like; for both the sufferer and their loved ones. It’s horrible, it’s shit, and it can ruin lives. Perhaps one day it might have utterly ruined mine. Unfortunately, I think in some ways my condition has had a damaging impact on me in ways which can’t really be changed. But hey, I’m coping with that. What I’m focusing on now is recovering and moving on completely, so that, in the future, my life will never be affected in such a harmful and negative way again.

And! Two more things. I’m really hoping (I know it’s unlikely, but a girl’s allowed to dream!) that bogging might improve my baking in some way too. Again it’ll be a way of keeping track of what I make every day I suppose, and any mistakes made along the way. And I can set myself goals and challenges too. Today my challenge, gulp, is to make mushroom ravioli from SCRATCH. I might chicken out later on, I’m not promising anything. I’ll let you know later on of course whether I decided to rise to the challenge or not, and if I did, whether it was a success or just a sticky doughy disaster.

If you recall from my first post, I mentioned that I am an English student who’s struggling somewhat. Having just battled my way through two years of a course I do not like, I can safely say college has not been one of my most memorable or enjoyable experiences. Disliking my degree has made it extremely hard for me to be motivated or to work hard at the course work, and has made me feel unhappy, stressed, out-of-place, and useless, in a university where everyone else seems so studious and intellectual and really into what they were doing. I should never have opted to study English; it was a stupid mistake on my part; and looking back at the day I filled out my CAO form in my final year of secondary school, I am always filled with a strong sense of regret. The thing is, though, I did used to enjoy writing. I loved to write stories and essays and diary entries, and whenever anyone asked me what my preferred hobby was, the answer would spontaneously always be “writing”. But, like so many other things in my life, that all changed. The course, I fear, diminished my enjoyment of writing in a number of ways, and I began to feel as if my writing and everything I wrote was crap. As a result, I ceased to write as a hobby; writing became a chore rather than a pleasure. Even writing one of my own projects, a fantasy medieval story which I used to be so passionate about - it was as if the course had sucked all the joy I used to derive from producing it; and so, I stopped trying completely.

But in writing this blog, I am hoping to reconnect with that long-lost joy. Could blogging help me to enjoy writing once again? I’m really hoping that it will be so. I know I’ve only written three not very good and probably overlong posts. But just in composing them, I have felt the old sense of enjoyment that I thought I had forever lost.