Love your Body! :) Part 1

A few days ago I wrote a post explaining how over the next week or so I am going to write a few wee lists which will hopefully help me (and all you guys too! :) ) to begin to appreciate and love your very own body. for accepting its so-called imperfections (thought I am a firm believer in the saying that it is all these little imperfections which make us special and perfect in our own little ways), bestowing upon it the care, respect and attention it deserves; and for recognising and appreciating everything it has done, will do and does for you, in the past, in the future and on a day-to-day basis. You and only you can be responsible for your body's health and well-being: others can help you, or try to force you to take measures in an attempt to protect yourself from causing you and your body from harm; but at the end of the day, the ball is in your court; it is your body, your life, and there is only so much people can do for you... inevitably, the person who has to take on the responsibility or who will suffer the consequences, whose life will be affected...is you.

And so today, I thought I would share with you my own list of the things that my body has done, and still does do, for me...things which I may have taken for granted in the past, things that I might not even have given a second thought to before. But now, I realise, that it is all because of my body that I could do and can do all these things. Writing a list like this acts as a real eye opener, to the extent to how hard your body works for you, what it has done for you, and which it loyally continues to do for you on a daily or regular basis...for as long as it can draw breath. We need to all realise just how amazing, how incredible our bodies really are; we also need to learn how to love, respect, and care for them. Always remember: your body will never give up on you; it will take care of you...as long as you are prepared to care for it, nurture it, in return.

• Without my body I would never be able to see, hear, or feel the world around me; without it, I would never, ever have been enabled to experience the breathtaking magnificence and beauty of the planet which we know as Earth. I wouldn't be able to inhale the delicate fragrance of the bluebells in springtime; I wouldn't be be able to hear the cuckoo calling or the blackbird singing from the rooftops, neither would I be able to witness to pale, radiant purity of a snowy morning. 
  

• because of my body, I was able to gaze over the sapphire-blue waters of the Pacific and watch fluffy wild sealions wreath and play in the tresses of yellowy kelp which form underwater jungles along the coast of California. I was able to climb to the top of Puig de Maria, running my fingers through the silvery leaves of the olive trees which overhung the rocky path upon which I trod. I was able to leave my footprints along the golden sands of the beaches of West Cork, the roars of the Atlantic crashing in my ears, the fresh sea breeze catching strands of my hair and casting them across my face.
• Because of my body I was able experience the magic of Irish dancing for myself, feel the pulsating rhythm and the enchanting beat of the bodhrán, leap across the stage like a creature of the faery world, as if my feet were on fire, as if I was one with that music. I will never forget being able to dance like that. And I hope by caring for my body, I might be able to do so once again.
• Because of my body I can feel the softness of my doggy's fur, ruffle his ears, take him for walks on the heathery bogs and moors, the rustling forests, the dewy meadows. I can pick up my cat and cuddle him in my arms, feel the warmth of his body against my own.
• I can write and do things with my hands - knit and draw and make delicious creations in the kitchen. 
• And of course, it was my body which kept me alive, when I at my lowest weight in the depths of anorexia. Despite all the strain and abuse that I forced it to endure, my body refused to give up on me, and allowed me to survive. Now I know is the time I repay my body in full for everything it has done for me, and, though I know this is easier said then done, I am determined to prove to my eating disorder that it is no longer the one who decides what is best for my body. 

And there you go, just a snapshot of some of the things which my body does and has done for me which I am so, so grateful for. Think about your own body, your own life, and what your body has done for you. Love your body and it will love you back; choose recovery and fight your eating disorder. It is the best thing you could possibly do for your body! <3 xxx

The storm will pass...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And pass, it did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Picking up the pieces..:'(

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's the only one you will ever, ever have...

If, at some point in your life, you accidentally snap your favourite chain in two, snag and tear your beloved little black dress on a door handle and rip it at the seam, or drop your expensive, high-tech smartphone on the hard stone cobbles of the pavement causing an unsightly crack to open up across the screen, your reaction might initially be one of anger, frustration, sadness, and guilt. And then, overriding all these various different feelings that you might have, there is an impending sense of loss, a sorrowful regret for the object or thing that has been permanently damaged or eternally broken, and that will never again be whole.

But yet, at the end of the day, no matter how potent or intense these feelings might seem, they do not last forever; and sooner or later they will fade completely, and we just move on with our lives, sometimes even forgetting that the object in question ever really existed. For after all, these things are material; and can be simply replaced with a something else. The snapped chain can easily be substituted for a newer, shinier necklace; the favoured dress can be shoved to the back of wardrobe, its fvoured place now occupied by another new LBD with all the trimmings; the smartphone replaced with a more modern and subsequently, better version of its broken self. But one thing that can't ever, ever be replaced, one thing that you will never be able to get a second replacement or simple replica of, is the body, your body.

Your body - your beautiful, complexly structured, amazingly unique and undeniably incredible human body is the only one you that you will ever, ever have, and, if broken or destroyed, will never, ever be able to be replaced.

And this is so worth bearing in mind, in eating disorder recovery. Eating disorders can essentially destroy the body, or cause irreparable or permanent damage to it.

The eating disorder can have an impact on nearly every single part of the body: sadly, an eating disorder takes no prisoners. The heart, the liver, the kidneys. The skin and the stomach and the intestines. The brain. The endocrine glands and the reproductive system. The bones. And in severe cases, when the body can no longer cope with the stress and strain of such a merciless and concentrated assault on all of its faculties, it simply gives up, and fails, and dies.

I often think to myself, if I ever was granted three wishes, perhaps the last one of them, would be to have a new skeleton...for of course, because of my eating disorder, my bones are now weak and brittle, and could be broken as easily as the fragile screen of the dropped smartphone, cracked upon the hard, merciless cobbles. But you know, in a way, I was one of the lucky ones...for I now know just how close I was, to destroying myself, forever.

But I have been given a chance, one chance, to improve my bone health and help strengthen my bones; and help my body to repair itself, and heal.

And now I am trying to move towards a more appreciative and positive approach towards my own body. I'm not going to lie, it is very hard. But I am determined to work on this and by doing so, I hope to inspire others to do just the same as me: to learn to not only accept, but to appreciate and respect for the body, too. Your body will do everything in its power to keep you alive, but it is no inanimate robot which is to be used and abused as the owner sees fit. It deserves the attention and care that you would bestow upon your most valuable of possessions: if not more.

I am a firm believer in that appreciation of ones' own body is no way NEAR connected to vanity and it makes me quite annoyed when I have heard people in the past say things like that. Vanity is an entirely different thing altogether and people should never be criticised for loving their bodies and being happy with the way they look. Personally I really admire people who have the confidence to do so and really look up to them. 

And so over the next few days (eventually!! ;) ) I aim to share with you a few more lists (YES! MORE lists!! ;) ) of...

The things that my body has done for me and does for me, which I am so, so grateful for.

The things that I like about my natural body (when I say "natural body" I am referring to my body in its "recovered state" ie. after gaining weight).

And what I am doing, and plan to do in the future, in order to care for my body and repay it for everything it has done for me.

I would love if you could join in and do these challenges yourself when I do them as I think they are so so helpful and an ideal way to start this process of appreciating and caring for your body. <3 xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didnt want this to change..

I dont really consider myself as that much of a reflective or philosophical sort of person, but today, as I arose with the ascending sun and pottered outside to my usual designated spot beneath the blooming bower at the back of the villa, the rocky coastal highlands to the north dominating my field of vision as I gazed towards the horizon, my mood became sombre and my thoughts began to race faster than a hawk in flight.

As I gazed out at the distant mountains, silvery grey peaks soaring majestically upwards, reaching for the blue, fathomless heavens above them, a wave of reflective sadness washed over me, leaving me feeling drained and despondent. Because I know, it is wrong, it is not right for a 21 year old girl to feel the way the way I do, about living at home, not being at college or in the realm of employment: or quite simply about life, in general.

Because the truth is, I dont want my life at home to end. My home is my safe haven, my sanctuary, my comfort zone; the nest in which my siblings and I - in that sweet, glorious summer of our lives termed as childhood - were raised and nurtured and gently allowed to grow.

Everything about my home to me is comforting, lovingly familiar, safe, warm, and unchanging.
Sitting around the fire on a cold winter's night, flames hungrily licking the logs and kindling placed in the hearth, while others leap upwards against the sooty blackness of the chimney, twirling and flickering like lithe dancers garbed in silks of dazzling red and and orange and gold. Cooking in the familiar, sparkly-clean, blue-tiled kitchen as evening shadows lengthen and the sun begins to gradually sink beneath the Slieve Blooms to the west; the delicate smells of herbs and fresh bread in my nostrils as I stir pots and lift hot trays out of the oven with my checked black and white oven gloves. Taking Benny out onto the bog on a sunny spring morning,the dew seeping through my shoes and the sharp nip of the dawn tickling my cheeks, while Benny's ears flap joyously like the wings of a young bird as he prances across the heathery expanses.

And I know that I wil have to leave it...but I don't want to, and am so, so deeply afraid of doing so.

For when I get back from mallorca, I will need to make a decision about whether or not I am going to return to Trinity, and, if I am not, I will then subsequently need to decide where the next twist in my road is going to take me.

I suppose I am just sad, and frustrated. As when I went into hospital I expected to come out and, as well as being fully recovered from my eating disorder (which I know, deep down, of course, that I am not), that I will also being more mature, more assertive, more confident, and ready to take on the world. But the truth is, I still feel very much like that scared little girl going into secondary school all those years ago, when ED first caught hold of my hand and beckoned me to follow him along the path which would lead to my very own ruin. I just hope that this month, I will be able to make the right choices - choices which will enable me to make some positive and generative changes in my life, and enable me to become independent. I want to be able to have my own income and start earning money, as the fact that financially I am completely dependent on Daddy only serves to fuel my sense of self-hatred and guilt. I want to pay them back for everything they have done for me, for giving me all the love a parent could ever bestow upon their child, and more - I want to make them proud. But at the same time I am so, so afraid of leaving the world of my home, of leaving the life that I love. And of course, I suppose it is made worse y the fact that I dont even know where I am going to go, what exactly am I going to do. Change can be as scary as the deepest and most darkest of winter nights, and certainly just as full of uncertainty.

I didn't want my life here to change...

Holiday challenges..

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

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

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

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

Plan of how I am going to Overcome these challenges:

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

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