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.
