This was me...

This was me...this time last year.

Weight? I can't honesty say as up till this past month, I never, ever weighed myself. In my early years of secondary school, my Mam, having noted the odd and rather secretive behaviour I displayed around food and at mealtimes - as well as the fact that I seemed to be slowly but surely losing weight - concealed the home weighing scales we had at the back of the wardrobe in her room, and there they have stayed until this year, in fact, when my doctor actually made me start weighing myself. Anyway, to return to my point, I don't know how much I weighed this time last year. All I know is...it must have been very, dangerously, low. I mean, I'm about 40 kg now. This time last month I was about 38 I think. And this is me now, having gained weight, over summer and over the past month. And so...I'm guessing it must have been below 35 kg.
 Clothes wise, I claimed I was a size 6...though in some shops even the size 6 wouldn't stay up on my tiny, bony waist.
 God only knows how bad my bmi was.

 So since then. I have gained weight. No one can take that from me. And I know, I have accomplished alot. This is the most frustrating thing of all I guess. The fact I have gained, I have achieved, I have conquered so many of my fears and ED-related anxieties. If only it were enough.

This time last year...I was literally, wasting away. I restricted without thought because to me, that ok, it was normal, it didn't affect me at all (though of course, in reality, it did). most days in Dublin I would eat, at the most, two meals a day: either lunch or breakfast would be skipped, if not both, and if I did have dinner, it was...barely anything. Sometimes I would eat a load of ice cream or chocolate or something as I was just so, so hungry...and then the next day would wake up, scared out of my senses that I had "over-indulged" and, accordingly, I would try to exercise more to burn off the extra calories, or just restrict more if I could get away with out without making it glaringly obvious.

I walked at least and hour and a half most days, pounding down the roads at breakneck speed in a desperate attempt to keep myself as trim as possible. even when rain splattered itself relentlessly against the window, even if there had been a frost overnight and the roads were slippy and treacherous, even if there was a gale and tree branches and bits of rubbish would be bblown haphazardly across the pavements of the city. it didn't matter to me: rain or shine, freezing cold or boiling hot, snow or ice or hail or fog...it did not matter, I had to walk and if I didn't, well...that would mean, inevitably, anxiety, guilt, irritability...and even more walking the next day.
 That was me.

 But I have come so, so far since then.
 That girl who stood up and looked at herself and her life...at what she had done to both herself and her loved ones...and realised that the life that she was living was, in fact, not a life at all - more like a living hell; all centered around restriction, secrecy, starvation...that girl then chose to make a crucial and fundamental decision. A decision in which she would embark upon a emotional, rocky, and undeniably life-changing journey, upon which she would face her greatest ever fears and her greatest ever enemy...the ED that has been controlling me ever since I was a child of twelve years old.

And now, standing where I am today...I know, I know, that I haven't completely lost my way. I have fallen a few times, that is true -  but, as  I am doing right now, I have always got back up, brushed away the dust and the tears and the feelings of hopelessness and despair...I can't do it...I have fallen so many, many times and I'm not strong enough to keep on getting back up and trying again... no...each time I bravely pushed them all away, and I kept going. I kept going, to the place where I am now. It has been incredibly, overwhelmingly hard. But I did it. I have trodden so many miles. But yet there are still more bridges to cross, more frightening, unknown tracks to gently step upon. But I know now I am strong. The Ganache Elf may be small, but no one can take away from her her inner strength, her courage, her determination. My heart is as big as any lion's. My resolve and strength of purpose is as great as Benny's when he sees a deer run out in front of his nose and he sets his heart upon chasing it.

What I need to do now... is to draw upon that strength that helped me to make those first few small but vital changes. Because at the time I know, those first few little steps appeared, to me, like massive mountain which I couldn't even find a foothold on, let alone begin to climb.

But I did it.

This mountain sure is big, steep, rocky...I knew that from the very beginning. But I'm getting closer and closer to the top, despite the slips I've made along the way...I am going to get to that summit, my peak. And oh, what a view awaits me at the top. :)

As a dear friend told me today...it may be raining now, but the storm won't last forever. :)

(my friend specifically requested to be referred to as the crazy cat lady or inspirational angel. Both of which, as well as being a truly amazing friend, she most definitely is. :) thanks hun, you know who you are. <3 xxxxx)

The crossroads.

The doctor told me on Friday that I am now standing at a crossroads...the crossroads at which, standing at now, I have to make an extremely important and life-changing decision.

So here I stand. here is the decision I have to make right here, right now. Here are the paths which I can choose to tread.
I can choose...to stay the way I am at the moment. Half-recovered, I guess. Though over the past few days it feels like, to me, there is absolutely nothing "half" about it. For to me, now it seems like everything I thought I had achieved...has been for nothing. I'm still underweight, my body is still very much in danger, my bmi is too low and I have to gain more weight. And this time...I won't be able to do it, the way I want to...no. I screwed my chance at that. There are going to be hospital visits and weight checks and doctors peering over my shoulder all the time, telling me that I must eat this and I must not do that. And I know, they are going to do everything they can...to help me. But at the same time I want to cry with frustration and despair that despite everything I did...the weight I have gained since the day I told myself Emily, stop kidding yourself...you have an eating disorder....  despite all of that, I am still being told I have to go into hospital.

Anyway, as I was saying, I can choose to stay at this weight, this shape, and go on living life the way it has been for the past few months, since I started to try and fight back my ED. My weight? About 40 kg. My height I don't know, but trust me it's not much.
40 kg. At a guess, over the past few months I've gained about 5 to 7 kilograms. But it is still not enough.
I was happy that I had gained weight. I thought I had succeeded. Truly, I did. But it feels to me, sitting here today, as if nothing was further from the truth. :( From what they are telling me. From what the next few weeks, months, years..(?) are going to involve, for me.

And then there was what crossed my mind on Friday, sitting on the bus home after my doctor's appointment, watching the rain fall gently against the window and snake down in little riverlets to the pane, not unlike my own tears as they slowly coursed down my face. That being...I don't want to go through this, anymore. I just want it to end. I don't want to eat anymore...I don't deserve to live. I just want to vanish off the face of this earth forever. I want to become sick, really, really sick...so sick I can and never will recover. I just want my life to end.

Or. I CAN choose to get better and recover. To gain more weight. To let it all go...to entrust myself completely to my doctors. To go and get the help and treatment that I need...though there is an enormous part of me which is telling me that it is not what I need. but no - is that part of me the part which is dominated by the ED, still? I just don't know, anymore. I just don't know.

And I KNOW what path I need to take, of course. On Friday I was consumed with guilt, sorrow, despair. I just felt as if my existence was worthless. I just thought...that all of these helping hands being extended towards me right now...I am not worth their time, their effort, their money. That I am a lost cause...I was brave, but not brave enough. I made some big changes...but what was required were enormous changes which I was too scared to make.

And so here I am today standing at the crossroads. And I know which way I need to go. I am going to take that road with my head held high. I will draw on the courage, the strength of purpose, and the determination that brought me this far - that prevented me, those few months ago, from well and truly giving in to my ED...from letting it destroy me. And I was very very close, I realise that now. If my body is in trouble now...well, this proves to me two things. That a few months ago, I was much, much closer to tragedy than I ever, every comprehended. And that now, having gained weight and to be forced to recognise that my body is still at enormous risk...well, I guess that manifests the extent to which I really did damage myself. In a way in which my body can't simply fix itself, on its own. It needs help and it needs it right now.

I'm only human. And I have made so many, many mistakes. Mistakes which now I regret with all my heart. I know I have made a mess of, well, pretty much everything. But I know that I can be strong. I have to be...and I will be. Right now, the easiest thing for me to do would be to give in, give up, for ever. because I have been trying to do this...for well, 8 years. Nearly half of my whole entire life, I have been struggling against an ED. Ever since I left the idyllic happiness of my childhood and entered into the troubles and trials of young adulthood.

I will be strong, I will be brave. And I know, I have all the help anyone could ever ask for. I know that life is never going to be one completely smooth road, but I hope that the time will come when there will be no more crossroads quite like this one. When I will be able to look at my life and at how far I have come, and say, with a smile on my face, that...I did it. And now, I am healthy, properly healthy - no strings attached. Now I have finally found happiness.

No, more. :'(

 So there will be no more sitting at my little study desk at home, crying endless tears over my uncompleted college work.
 So there will be no more sitting in stuffy lecture rooms with my eyelids feelings like weights as I struggle just to merely stay awake, let alone focus on what the lecturer is saying.
 So there will be no more walking through that splendid Front Arch in the mornings on a clear day, and seeing that majestic domed sepulchre rise in front of me, proud and sublime against the pale blue of the sky. No more staring at that symbol of human excellence and accomplishment, and feeling that all-too-familiar, crushing sense of despair that always wells up inside me as I contemplate its greatness. I shouldn't be here. 
What am I doing here?
I don't deserve to be here.

No...there will be no more of that. No more of that, because...I won't be there anymore. I had my third doctor appointment yesterday. Yes, I have gained weight since I was last there. Two kilograms so to speak. But my doctor has told me that I can't go on like this. I have to pull out for the year. In the upcoming weeks I am going to have to go to the hospital in Sandyford to have what he entitled as an "eating disorder reassessment" test done.
 Depending on how bad they think my situation is...I am either going to be hospitalised, or receive out-patient treatment through eating disorder therapy clinics and counselling.
 And so, no more am I allowed to be in control of my recovery...it it well and truly out of my hands. No more am I under any illusions about the extent to which I have damaged my body. And the weight I have gained over summer, over the past few months, even - no, it's still not enough. It wasn't enough to save me from this. Even though it feels like, to me,  I am eating more food now than I ever did before this happened...well, let me tell you, it felt yesterday as if all of that didn't matter, at all. It was like I was being treated like an anorexic living off salad and rice cakes or something...that's how it feels for me, now. Despite everything which I thought, I had achieved. How do I feel right now? Well, it's a multi-faceted answer. Confused. Angry. Bitter. Miserable, wretched. Desperate Disbelieving. And above all...guilty. Confused because I don't understand why I am still so underweight...why I am supposedly in such danger, despite the fact I am eating, I am enjoying food, I WANT to gain weight. Angry at myself for not trying harder, for what I did in the past that has, obviously completely messed up my liver, my hormones, my ovaries...everything. Desperate and wretched because I thought I was on the way to being healthy...I thought I could do this, alone. And guilty, of course, because I feel as if I have let my loved ones down so, so badly, this time. To be honest it's hard to pinpoint which I feel the strongest right now...my head is like a battle field of conflicting, jarring emotions.

I just...I just don't understand. What has happened to me? Why I am still at such a low weight? Despite everything I have done, am doing? Perhaps...perhaps I have so badly damaged my body for the past, what, 8 years. That is is actually unable to repair itself, to gain weight? Or perhaps I am not better, and to say I am eating "properly" is a lie...maybe I am not? Maybe what I eat isn't "Normal eating" ?? What is normal eating? Maybe I am just so entrenched in this mess, I can't distinguish anything at all...my ED has robbed me of my mental faculties...I'm just a body, a small, weak one of that, with an ED stuck in her head ruling everything that body does. Nothing more? Has the real Emmy really been lost forever? :(

Plum crumble. :)

I want now to make a humble crumble apology to this delightful dessert that I made a good while ago now...gosh, I think it must have been 2 months ago :o at the beginning of autumn...one of my favourite times of the year, it has to be said. All the colours and the ripening fruits and berries on the trees, and the first few grumbles of "it's cold" floating about in the air alongside the twittering of the swallows as the prepare to depart to warmer climes. And in the orchards of our gardens, one can occasionally hear the odd plop or thud as a ripened fruit drops from its branch to the grassy floor beneath its parent tree.
 AND then another falls...and another...and another. And as is often the case when one is lucky enough to have their own fruit trees, supply can be found to be greater than demand. It's lovely to be able to have an apple a day, but in general we don't want to have anymore than that. And so unfortunately - and this is a source of great sadness to Ganache-Elf - walking amongst fruit trees at this time of year is often a scenario which involves a great deal of squishing and slipperiness. Yes, one of the few sights of autumn that doesn't fill me with pleasure...for yes, similar to the way I don't like wasting my Oreos (see previous post.. ;) ), I do so hate to see any kind of lovely fruit go to waste. So it is crucial, in order to maintain this wonderful sense of tranquility brought about at this time of year, to come up with some yummy ideas to utilise as much ripening fruit as possible.

At the very bottom of our garden, we have a small cluster of apple trees, and also a plum tree. Which funnily enough never yielded anything for the past sixteen years we've been at Derryguile House. But this year...it's as if the plum tree felt the sudden need to make up for its general fruitless-ness by producing a bumper crop of purpley-red plums.
 Trying to think of ways to use up cooking apples isn't too difficult as I am sure you all know. But plums are something I am not quite so familiar with. Up to this year I admit, I actually don't think I have had a plum before. Biting into one, I had a rather unpleasant surprise to find a little stone inside, which I found rather off-putting. These little guys were just like smaller versions of the much-loved nectarine, only not quite as sweet and with half the quantity of succulent fleshy fruit around the stone. And I had LOADS of them. What on earth was I going to use them for? And then, once again, Daddy Dearest comes to my rescue with a request for plum crumble.

Now I have to say, daddy is (or maybe that should be was..for (sniff sniff) crumble is most certainly not included on the healthy heart diet... :( ) one of those people who really, really does appreciate a good hearty crumble. This, however, was my first ever plum crumble...and I was, initially, pretty much certain that this new addition to the crumbly collection would never, surely, prove as popular as the classic apple and blackberry, or the scrumptious rhubarb. There's just something so wonderfully simple and comforting about crumble; in its irresistible combination of sweet, soft fruit, topped by a buttery, sugary mixture which is delicately crunchy in texture, though not too hard on the teeth...and yes, even though I often feel inclined to put twice the amount of toothpaste on the brush to clean my teeth afterwards to counteract such an intense hit of sugar, crumble always will hold a very special place in my heart and in my kitchen. It's one of the first things I baked as a little girl. And that first ever crumble was, needless to say, NOT plum. So did I rhu (heehee) substituting the beloved rhubarb for my glut of ripening plums? Was I berry wrong to make the risky decision of not using the traditional filling of blackberry and apple, for the sake of using up all these surplus plums?

Well no, I didn't, actually. Try this recipe out for yourself and you will understand exactly what I mean. I can honestly say that plum crumble is as equally delicious as its more popular counterparts...if not even yummier.
Ingredients

For the crumble...

• 225 g plain flour
• 125 g butter or margarine
• 125 g demerara or granulated sugar, or half of each. 
• A little extra demerara sugar, for sprinkling 

For plum crumble...

• about 600 g fresh ripe dessert plums, halved and stoned. 
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon.
• 2 tbsp light brown soft sugar.

• Preheat oven to 180c/160. Grease a deep overnproof dish. Mine is round and about 20 cm in diameter.:)
• Grease the dish and lay the halved plums, cut side up, in a neat, even layer in the bottom of the tin. You might need to lay some of the halves on top of eachother, but that's ok.:) Once you've used up all the plums, sprinkle with the soft brown sugar and the cinnamon.
• To make the crumble, sift the flour into a bowl, stir in the 125 g sugar, and then dice the butter/margarine into small cubes.
• Rub the fat into the flour and sugar. Do this with your fingertips, lightly rubbing the cubes of butter/margarine until you end up with a fine, breadcrumbley mixture. Hold your hands high above the mixture as you do this, keeping your hands about the level of the bowl rim.
• Once the butter is completely rubbed in - there should be no big lumps of fat - sprinkle the crumble mix all over the plums in the dish. 
• Sprinkle over the extra demerara sugar.
• Bake in the oven for about 30 minutes, until the crumble is pale golden and the filling is hot.
• It is DIVINE served warm, with custard...mmmmmmm. :)

Was I mad...?

No, I wasn't...I know that now. I was just...in a dark place. I was sick...but in a way that wasn't quite so obvious as having a leg broken and in a cast, or having a really bad flu which makes your nose stream and your face pale and become drained of colour. No. Eating disorders are never quite as obvious as that, are they? So, so much can be hidden behind that bright smile, that cheerful face, that seemingly carefree and happy expression. Behind that innocent "oh no, I'm fine...I ate earlier" and those persistent claims of not being hungry and "sure I'll eat later". Often, noone knows... the sufferer, of course. Burdened with a secret you are too afraid, too ashamed, and too guilty to reveal to anyone, not even your loved ones, the people you trust the most.

But the above post title was the exact thought that crossed my mind today as I sat at the kitchen table, writing out, as tidily and as legibly as I could (for yes, unfortunately, my writing has dwindled to a scribbly, messy, almost impossible to read scrawl since I made the transition from school to university...bring back the fountain pens and hardback copies of my schooldays I say :( ) what I have eaten, day by day, over the past week; for the inspection of my doctor on Friday. As I wrote, I could not help but let my mind drift back to a time now quite so long ago...a time when I had become so used to restriction, hunger, denial...of going to bed every night and crawling underneath the covers and then hearing the hollow gurgles of your intestines in the dead silence as they try, once again, to digest food which just isn't there...a time when I had become so used to all of this, that what I know now was completely abnormal and unnatural and just plain senseless...well, to me, back then, that was normality.
I reflected on what I ate then. In comparism to now. And that's what made me feel so, incredulous. That's what made me consider...was I really crazy? But no...I know, I am a perfectly sane human being. But that doesn't mean my thoughts weren't completely and utterly messed up and manipulated... by my eating disorder. It's not insanity or madness or anything like that. It is a disease, a sickness, a horrible, horrible condition...one that begins in your head and then infects your whole mind...and then take its toll upon the body in the most destructive, damaging way.

This was what my eating disorder did to me.
The most obvious thing...I am, well, tiny. I know, this might be down to genes...but I am doubtful that this is the case for me. None of my family are particularly short. My mam is of average height, and has a lovely, curvaceous figure, as does my sister. My daddy and brother are both very tall and slender of frame.
I think...if I had eaten properly in that crucial growing period of my teens, I would have been alot taller than I am now...but my eating disorder stunted my growth. I have the body of fourteen year old.

In complete contrast to that...I have horrible, bony, veiny feet. Years of walking too far, for too long, all for the sake of burning off those few calories I had allowed myself to consume...and now I am suffering the consequences. They are sore, they are misshapen, the skin on them is often cracked and sore, and I walking in any kind of shoe that hasn't some sort of support is relatively a matter of great difficulty for me. This is where my obsessive exercising got me...as well as the fact of course that the bone structure of my delicate feet is probably all messed up...because I did not eat.

I have never had a period...my oestrogen levels took a massive hit during that period in which I had my ED and it seems, even though, they are unable to replenish themselves... and I am probably going to have to take hormone supplements or get IVF or something, if I ever do want to have children.

My skin is always flaky and dry, especially on my hands, legs, arms, stomach and underarms.

It's very likely that I have a very fragile bone structure, meaning that if I ever did break a bone, I would be in serious trouble.

I suppose they are all the main physical effects of the eating disorder...the impact it had on my body. Whether or not I will be able to rectify these in something which only time will tell. All I can do is hope. Hope, and take care of my amazing, undernourished, fragile little body, as best as I can. Fragile because of what I did to it...as in, depriving it of the nutrients it needed to become strong and fully grown.
Amazing, for its ability to survive all of that, despite weeks, months, years of continuous abuse, undernourishment, starvation.

An AUTHENTIC NEO cake (even Benny and Maisy want a wee slice... ;) )

Do you recall my much, much earlier post with the rather grand title of NEO cake, which I wrote a few months back during the summer? Now I'm not saying that I was unhappy with the cake, or anything - it was everything a good chocolate cake should be; so no problems on that score. Though it has to be said, as I published that particular post, I felt a teeny-tiny sense of guilt...why? Well, I suppose I thought the post title was a little misleading. Due to the fact that, despite being adorned with Neos on its top and sides, the actual sponge of the cake - light, chocolatey and utterly scrumptious as it was - was sadly devoid of all trace of these beautiful little biccies.

 BUT today yet another development took place in the never-ending saga of Ganache-Elf's bakery. That being, of course, the infiltration of approximately a hundred grams of Neo into a divine vanilla and chocolate marbled sponge. So yes today, I am feeling rather smug indeed. I'm just kicking myself for not having made such an attempt before now...but trying out your own recipe for the first time ever is always - for me anyway - both an exciting and extremely nerve-wracking experience. Hwat if the Neos all sank to the bottom of the sponge? Or if they all stuck to the sides and bottom of the cake tins? Or if they went hard and brittle or squidgy and soggy? The very thought of permitting my beloved Neos (for yes, as I have specified before, Oreos and any biscuit in the guise of an Oreo (J-Os, Neos, etc.) are most definitely on my top 10 list of biscuits and anything of dunking potentiality. ) to such a terrible fate makes me shudder with repulsion. So I suppose yes, I did have some sort of, erm, excuse for not endeavouring to make an AUTHENTIC NEO CAKE sooner. Anyhow, today, my stash of Neos were destinied for a somewhat more spectacular fate than just being dunked in hot choc, as I believe the pics below fully testify. ;) 

No, your eyes aren't deceiving you - those little black specks in that sponge are indeed chopped Neos. ;) I chopped them into little pieces the size of my little fingernail. Just be careful when you do this of course, for as with all culinary tasks that require knives; but also because the Neos seem to have a whole mind of their own when they are being broken up in this way. Or maybe it was just the way I was cutting them (rather tenderly, as I almost felt bad breaking up them up..) but with each chop the broken up chunk of Neo often would go halfway across my chopping board. A couple fell upon the floor, much to my disconcertation. (but not to my two little furry friends'...who saved me the trouble of picking them up, needless to say. ;)

(well they were also awaiting their dinner too as I just happened to be making my Neo Cake around doggy feeding time so hence the cow eyes and the pitiful countenances...but they weren't going to turn their noses up to a wee bit of Neo of course. ;) ) 

And so, I had finally succeeded into getting my all-time favourite biscuits actually into my baking in the very literal sense of the word. But of course, to be completely Neo-fied, another 100 g of Neos were applied to the exterior of the cake too. And so, if your Oreo (or equivelent of. ;) ) addiction is as serious as mine is, I think you are going to like this cake. So please feel free to try out the recipe for yourself as outlined below. ;) 

To make an authentic, no-nonsense NEO Cake (or even perhaps, you are using actual Oreos, so that should be OREO Cake? ;) you will need...

• 225 g softened butter/margarine
• 225 g caster sugar
• 225 g self-raising flour
• 2 tbsp cocoa powder
• 4 eggs
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 4 tsp full-fat milk
• 1 tsp vanilla extract/essence
• 100 g Oreo/Neo/J-O biscuits (I used original, but of course, there is absolutely nothing to stop you from using Double Stuff, Double Choc, Vanilla, Chocolate Creme...etc/ ;) (they are all the Oreo flavours I have thus discovered so far...are there any others in existence? If so please do let me know...partially for the spreading of baking ideas amongst my readers of course...but also, of course, because Ganache-Elf would dearly love to try them out for herself. ;)

• 200 g plain chocolate, broken into chunks.
• 200 ml single/double cream
• 100 g Oreos/Neos/J-Os etc. :) (This amount is a guide only...don't be shy, add more if you think more is required. :)

Method. :)

1. First, make the sponge. Preheat the oven to 180 c/fan oven 160 c. Grease a 20 cm sandwich cake tin and line the bottom with baking paper.
2. Chop 100 g of the Oreo biscuits carefully into pieces about the size of your fingernail.
3. Put the softened butter, the sugar, baking powder, flour and eggs into a bowl. Beat well with an electric mixer until smooth and well blended. Add a few drops of water, if necessary, to create a soft dropping consistency.
4. Transfer half of the cake batter into a separate big bowl. Sieve in 2 tbsp cocoa powder and stir in the milk. Fold gently in with a metal spoon.
5. Add the vanilla to the plain cake batter and fold in.
6. Distribute the chopped biscuits amongst the two different cake mixtures. I put slightly more Neo in the vanilla batter, simply because I think the black pieces against the yellowy sponge looks ever so pretty. :) )
7. Fold the biscuit pieces in with a metal spoon. 
8. Transfer large spoonfuls of each mixture into the prepared tins. Dot the spoonfuls alternatively around each tin until each mixture is used up completely. Then use a skewer to swirl around the surface of the uncooked sponge to create a pretty marbled effect.
9. Bake for 20 – 25 minutes in the preheated oven until the sponge is well-risen and springs back beneath the fingertip when pressed gently on the top. If an indent is left when you do this, bake for a few minutes more before testing again.
10. Leave in the tins for a few minutes before turning out onto a wire rack, peeling off the paper and leaving to cool.

• Next, make the dark choc ganache by melting the 200g plain chocolate with 200 ml single cream, on a very low heat in a small saucepan. Stir until smooth and then refrigerate for about 1 ½ - 2 hours, checking after 1 ½ hours…you don’t want it very hard, just a nice spreadable consistency.
• when the sponges are completely cold, place one on a plate spread a thick layer of ganache on the top. Place the other sponge on top of it and the cover its top with another layer of ganache.
• Spread the remaining ganache around the sides of the sponges, so that the whole cake is coated in a gorgeous thick layer of chocolate ganache. ;)
• Use the remaining 100 g (or more..) of Oreos etc. in order to ensure you have absolutely no scruples whatsoever in claiming your cake as being, well and truly, a real Oreo Cake in every sense of the word . As you can see from the pic, I scattered a load of crushed Neos on the top of my cake and then applied whole ones to the sides as well (I split them in half so that you end up with two flat black discs which more easily stick to the sides. ) And then...? get a spoon, a knife and a big, big bowl...and try to decide what is going to be the est way to eat your well-deserved slice of Oreo/Neo etc cake. Which part to tackle first...the soft sponge, to silky ganache layer, or perhaps the actualy crowning glory of Neos itself? Or maybe even you are like me and like to remove your whole Neo piece from your piece and save it till the very last. ;) Anyway, whichever way you choose to have your cake and eat it,enjoy. I feel safe enough in saying that you are going to.  ;) xxxx

Dear Every Body...I'm sorry.

Dear Every Body.
I want to address this post to a number of bodies...because I know now something that, not quite so long ago, I would never, never have even considered.
 That by not eating properly and starving myself, by letting my ED take control and make my decisions for me, that by slowly letting myself diminish into nothing but a skeleton...that I was doing so, so much harm to a number of human bodies...both in my life, and outside of it. 
So today I just wanted to say sorry...sorry for everything I did. To all those bodies. I know I was wrong. I would do anything, give anything to transport myself back in time and change everything...but I know that that is impossible. So all I can do now is, to face my fears and take this one huge big step..or should I say, leap.
 First and foremost...to everybody in my family, and my circles of friends.
 For having to put up with my tears, my stress, my fits of panic and anxiety...for all the heartbreak, the anxiety and the worry, the feelings of helplessness and frustration I caused you for the past 8 years in which I have had my eating disorder...I will never, never be able to fully express how much it pains me now to think of what I dragged you through. For all the lies and deceit I made up to keep you from knowing the awful truth about my relationship with food and eating. For all those times when you encouraged me to eat and to take care of myself; and for how, each time you did so, I thoughtlessly ignored your advice, oblivious to your concern and your mental anguish as I continued on my self-paved path of destruction.
And yet, all this you endured and still, you refused to give up on me. You continued to love and care for me for all that time that I had my eating disorder...and now, as I tentatively make my way towards recovery once again, you are still there for me, supporting me every day, reminding me that I am not alone, that I am not a lost cause, offering me a shoulder to cry on, a warm hug, an attentive ear to which I can pour out the troubles of my heart to. for this and so much more...I love you all so, so much <3 <3 <3 and I am going to get better, for you...I know that this will never serve to make up for what I did. Though if there is just one small thing within my power that I can do, I know that this is it...and this time, I am never, ever going to look back. I will want to let you down ever again.

And I also want to say sorry to the bodies out there that I don't know...but who I now want to reach out to in this blog post. I know that there are so many, many people out there who may have - or still are - suffering from an eating disorder. And sadly, I know that there are probably some who will be, in the future, touched by this awful disease too. I know that I can't blame myself for becoming sick, for allowing my body to take on the appearance of a skeleton...but I do feel as if I could have tired harder to fight back my condition before now. And there were - I know myself - countless, countless times when I did claim to myself that I would eat better and stop restricting. But these fleeting moments of good intention never lasted very long and I would always, a few days after I made such assertions, revert back to my normal ways. And so I became thinner and thinner and thinner, and my ED became stronger and stronger and stronger. I was, slowly but surely, killing myself. I was permitting my ED to destroy me...I was, through my refusing to fight back, allowing my story to become one of defeat...and example of how EDs can, and will, kill the sufferer. And that, I believe, would have sent out a terrible, tragic, and very, very negative message.
Because I know now that they can and will be beaten.
But I just want to say sorry with all my heart. Sorry for nearly becoming that girl who allowed the ED to win...sorry for coming so, so close to testifying that an ED can be fatal.

And finally, to my own body...I know I abused you. I know I put you through hell, every single living day when I was in the grip of my ED.
I forced you to walk hours upon end in the lashing rain and cold winds...even when you were screaming at me to stop. I just ignored your cries for help.
I deprived you of the vital nourishment you needed to function and properly grow. I took no heed of you when you were staving...I denied you of one of your most basic and fundamental needs.
I ran you to the point of exhaustion...I wouldn't let you rest or sleep. I let you become fragile, bruised, unprotected...I wouldn't enable you to develop the vital protection you desperately needed, to cover up all the delicate organs and bones.
I promise that I will never mistreat you in such an abusive and damaging way ever, ever again.

Dear Every Body, I am so, so sorry...please forgive me. And know that I am going to put everything...heart and soul...into becoming better again. I promise.