It is said that we tell on average 6 lies a day. Most of
them white lies, I mean things like “your hair looks great”. It is to protect
feelings of the ones we love.
But how often do you lie?
What’s Your favorite movie?
Your natural hair colour?
Your shoe size?
Your relationship status?
Your dress size?
How much make up do you wear?
How many calories you eat?
How many times you check the scale?
When did you last purge?
When was the last time you cut, beautiful?
When did you last trace your bones that you adore oh so
much?
When was the last time you laughed until you couldn't
breathe?
After posting this picture on instagram months ago with the
quote "come on skinny love what happened here?" One person scrolling (or stalking) through
the hundreds of pictures that makes up my page I was asked how does my eating
disorder relate to the song skinny love?
Well, Skinny Love is about a relationship falling apart, the
love two people posses for each other has worn thin; it is skinny, emaciated.
Like those in the later stages of anorexia nervosa, their love bodies are raw
boned and feeble.
Anorexia nervosa has the highest mortality rate of any
mental illness. Many are lucky if they "just last the year". I think
that perhaps this is the most devastating link between a tragic love song and
an equally tragic illness. That people, us, are purposefully committing suicide
over months, years and even decades just because we can’t see anything in the
mirror that makes us happy.
I used the phrase “come on skinny love” as a petty means to
say that I want the small amount of love I still have for myself to come on. I
need it. But no, that shred of love is slowly getting smaller day by day and oh
how I wish it could grow. I hope, that somewhere in the back of my mind ive
planted that seed sized love in my darkest thoughts so it can flourish into
something beautiful. But the light can’t reach it yet…
Side note
So lately ive been feeling the cold a lot more as I’m writing
this I’m wearing pyjamas, a huge jumper, slippers, gloves, my feet are on a hot
water bottle and ive had the heating on full for 4 hours and my extremities are
still cold (especially my feet which are usually numb). I have to wear two
pairs of socks or long socks and my nails are purple. The other day I cried
simply because I was so cold, it’s becoming unbearable.
My friend Ella who I wrote my post “platforms and puppets”
about reckons I’m around 7 stone (I don’t own scales). I don’t think I am
though but I can’t tell because all I see is fat which is beyond frustrating.
Nightmares are slowly returning and I’m hallucinating more
frequently but I know that my visions are seldom what they seem. Although
petrifying some are comical, a few weeks ago I thought a friend of mine was
drunk in my bed, then she fell over and I told her to get out from under my bed
( I have underwear down there) and spent a few minutes feeling for her, then I thought
“what if a murderer is there?” and then began to realize it was all in my head. Getting back to sleep after is easier said than done.
As i reach almost 400 page views (a mini milestone, i'm proud) i owe my readers apologies for not posting frequently enough. I must find inspiration in the smaller things of my days, things that my eating disorder has made seem normal- and normality is scary. Waking up in the morning with little will to move or start my day i am lifeless for those moments, moments when i listen to music and let it consume me wondering if the songwriter felt the same way i do, if they ever felt better or just kept sinking into the pool of curiosity which haunts me. I loved Alice in Wonderland as a child, i still do. The novel is beautiful and something i can deeply relate to: A curious young girl finding her way in a strange place. Looking down on her story it seems enchanting, but to Alice it must of been intimidating; perhaps someone is looking down on my story thinking how captivating it must be, that my natural wit will help me out of wonderland. If not i hope my Cheshire cat will guide me past the fork in the road because "we're all mad here, and i do no wish to be among mad people".
Susana and Ella, this post if for you both. A thank you for
being so supportive.
Formally known as ‘lunykornio’ this ex moon unicorn lives in
Spain, a city girl. With an incredible sense of style and a new name @nonbreak
you make a statement: You will never break. Binge eating disorder? This
is just a challenge for you. In your platform boots you will conquer anything, one
step at a time.
Pale skinned, raven haired cello playing angel. You talk to
me about your life and confess all. You cope with so much I’m honoured to be
your friend.
With incredible English you make me feel important, at times
beautiful and I wonder if I ever make you feel the same way. We don’t see our
true reflection in the mirror but I see beauty in you and you see it in me.
“No girl sees it in herself I think. We don’t believe nice
comments but we do when an idiot says the contrary. I’ve learnt to only listen
to the opinions of my friends and family, it is selfish but it stops me getting
hurt” – Susana.
I must always remember those words.
How I wish I could
meet you in person.
Ella, I noticed your ribs and you noticed my raw knuckles
with this mutual understanding of what we do to ourselves our friendship
boomed.
Ana had been controlling you, you were the puppet she was the
puppeteer but it’s time for you to cut those strings.
With such a witty sense of humour I hope you’re laughing
through recovery. It’s not going to be easy. I know that, even though I do not
face recovery at the moment I cannot comprehend how difficult this must be.
“You keep restricting for one reason: you are ill. You're
very sick, both mentally and physically, and you can't stop without help.
You're killing yourself, and the sooner you get the help you deserve, the
better. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I promise.” – Ella.
Tough love. But chummy that is something I truly believe in. It’s
not every day I get told I’m killing myself but I am, I need to come to terms
with it.
Recovery is imminent for me, you’re 3 steps ahead urging me
on. Holding my hand soon we will be able to say in unison “I beat my eating
disorder” and be proud.
You are a role model, supporting me even if the support you
have yourself is weak. Putting others before yourself is how girls like us end
up like this, learn to love your body, your being.
I am so proud of you. Not only me but ‘deep beanie headed
lady’ is too ( Mary Lambert). You’re worth more than this disorder.
“Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet
And brother, arm wrapping shoulders, and remember
This is important
You are worth more than who you fuck
You are worth more than a waistline
You are worth more than any naked body could proclaim
In the shadows, more than a man's whim
Or your father's mistake
You are no less valuable as a size 16, than a size 4
You are no less valuable as a 32a than a 36c
Your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your
wood
Wisdom
You are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out
Reborn”
"OK,
it's not perfect, but perfection’s overrated"- Ella.
Is it bad that I just want to go into a deep hole with my
duvet to cry and sleep? Maybe sometimes listening to sad songs to make me extra
sad.
I’m not always sad, I don’t know if I’m even sad, but I’m
know I’m not happy. No one knows this, no
one has ever delved into the depth on my mind to see what’s there. I don’t let
them. My mind is not pretty or cute as I make myself out to be. I think
horrible horrible things and I’m not proud of any of it. And it brings me down;
the fact that I dwell on nothing and everything without being able to channel
my thoughts. I’m a mess.
And I don’t let others worry about me, talking to a friend on
facebook consisted of me briefly explaining an issue that makes me cry but
ending the sentence with “but enough with my problems, is everything ok with
you?”.
I’m afraid people will judge me for the things I think, so I carry
on with my innocent persona.
Saturday night i was lucky enough to go out with my boyfriend to a local fair but of course my mind wasn't quiet "66 calories plus 110 is 176 which leaves me a fairly normal person sized dinner..." "walk the long way around, burns more calories" which somewhat ruins the quality time with my boyfriend. I couldn't share candy floss with him or chow on toffee apples. Instead i got bruises all over my body due to the hard seats on the rides which do not hurt, but look awful. My fingernails turned navy blue and my low blood sugar meant i almost passed out on a ride called the "cage" which uses G force to pin you into place as you are 3 stories up parallel to the ground. Walking off of that ride shaking my boyfriend bought us chips to share (which i must admit made me feel 10 times better) but that only lead me to: A bag of crisps, bowl of noodles (with lots of veg) spring rolls, cheese cake, 3 croissants and more crisps. I was sleeping over at his house so i couldn't purge either :( *sigh* When i got home i drank two bottles of water and a cup of coffee before doing ab exercises and squats. I still feel guilty about it all.
I'm not sure if Edna is someone else or myself. Surely my eating disorder is still me, but why do i feel different when writing as Lovelyana? I've eaten just under 400 calories today under a quarter of what i should be eating and yet i feel empowered. I mean, i feel sad when i can't feel the hunger. Perhaps it's because i'm trying to empty myself so i feel nothing but then Edna makes me binge to feel something. It's too confusing. I'm too young for this. All of it. I'm too young I'm too young to be this stressed. I mean if i currently think " i hate my body, i purposely starve myself and cannot think straight because of this stress but before i try and make myself feel better i have homework for: Textiles, maths, science, history and P+R." How fucked up is that?! I want you all to watch this, it's my favorite poem. <3
Am i fat?
I've never been a fan of my body, i was always the taller girl in primary school and to a 9 year old taller meant bigger and bigger meant fat.Well after being bullied by E i though losing a few pounds couldn't hurt... right? I mean if people other than myself think i'm fat then maybe i am.
Alone. I sat alone in my room guzzling water while looking on weight loss sites, it seemed simple: Drink more water, eat less crap and more exercise. Simple. With a new figure i thought i'd be happier, i was already making new friends and starting to feel better.
When i noticed my jeans becoming baggy something clicked.
I began to lose more weight, with E's words echoing in my mind. "fat" "lazy" "can't have a belly bar" Each time i did one of my 300 sit ups a night i tried to shake away those words. Soon i noticed something strange... i liked feeling empty. I deserved the hunger pains and the blackouts, the lightheaded tingle and calorie contents rushing through my head. I know i deserve it because the voice says so.
Let me introduce you...
She is Edna, my eating disorder. EDNOS to be precise, a cocktail of anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa i suffer with two disorders, drifting between the two. Usually i'm anorexic (purging type) but for the period of a few weeks every now and then i'm bulimic. This can be particularly destructive at times, after a few days of fasting followed by a full blown binge and purge my stomach has experienced many extremes: Empty, full and forcefully emptied.
Needless to say you will hear a lot more about Edna shortly.
I spent a long time thinking i would go without friends, that my mood will remain low and socially i would fade into nothing but an echo from the back of the room, voice harsh from not speaking. My mama, however, would not let that happen. She called E's parents.
E apologized to me the next day but this time i felt like i could do better than her, i deserved more than her. Her words still volt through me each time my heart beats, most of the time it's not even being called "chavy" or a "slag" but flashbacks of how i dealt with it.
Laddered tights
I remember coming back from school upset (as i did a lot those days, a Wednesday) I went into my bedroom sat on my bed listening to the song "someone like you" By Adele. Fascinated by the ladder in my tights i pulled and created more and more while i let my tears flow free. As anger set in i tore holes. Why did she say that? Do i deserve it? Do other people think that?
Am i fat?
Needless to say my tights were left in shreds. But sitting on my bed crying isn't the main way i dealt with being bullied, E's words had manifested much deeper than tears.
I will write third chapter soon, the next is going to be juicy...
Ive grown up in England, small village to a large secondary school. I took to that school like a duck to water. Yes, i loved the responsibility, the new teachers and a whole new opportunity unraveling before my eyes. With few friends (3) one who was a twin, she and i talked for hours on end and bickered even more-often i'd come home upset from her petty comments. The next a girl who clung to the 4th member of the group, she always looked down on me, occasionally doing what i call 'sweet bitching' (saying negative things about me in a nice way, one of them was "i think you would have been born a big baby, but that's ok because it means they are healthier unlike me" (calling me fat)) and the 4th. Ive got a lot to say about her so lets name her E.
E was the only friend in the group who i felt connected to in a special way, whenever i came home upset from the twins foolish actions my mama would always tell me E was my real friend. And why should i have doubted my mother? E was kind, considerate and mature. However i grew weary of the other 2 girls and wanted to make more friends as i felt only 1 true friend would not suffice, i only left my friends at lunch time to chat with other friends on the school field; For the first time my social life was thriving.
One day, during a games lesson the twins came up to me and told me of how E had been talking about me behind my back. I was called "lazy, chavy, slag" "Got really chavy over christmas" And truely, the most destructive insults: "she can't have belly bar because the fat would roll over" "fat".
Devastated i came home crying my eyes out like a child. My mother wanted to contact E's parents but i wanted to deal with it myself. It turned out she was jealous of me and felt like she was being left out. Seemed believable right? I forgave but didn't forget.
Some time later she implied that i was reckless with other peoples belongings but one of my newer friends said that doesn't sound like B (B=me).
Finally, while E was at a large sleepover of which i wasn't invited to but my close friend T attended i was back stabbed once more. Called "chavy, lazy, slag" and "fat" once more my dear friend T told me all about it on a bus ride to school. Soon i will tel you what happened next in the following chapter.
Well, as i'm sure you can tell by now i'm rather new to blogging indeed. I have not a clue what i'm doing but i just thought "Fuck it, ill make my own way" which seems to be my motto a lot at the moment.
I'm keeping my identity private but i am the owner of instagram account @lovelyana_bones. I was encouraged to start a bog by a beautiful girl, her blog is @lunykornio and ill be posting about her shortly, however i feel i must tel you a little about myself. That is to come my lovelies, i just need to fathom this thing out.
