'It' makes me wish away every moment...
Sunday 23rd December 2018 19:06
Anorexia really is one of, if not the MOST manipulative, vile, and horrendous illness. I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE. I know I’ve said this lots of times, but I really can’t tolerate it anymore.
This afternoon I spent wishing away every minute of the beautiful Carols by Candlelight service. Yes, I was there physically, but no, Mima wasn’t really present. I couldn’t enjoy the Once in Royal solo my twin had the guts to sing, I couldn’t enjoy Daddy’s organ playing, I couldn’t enjoy just being there, in the moment, making memories.
Last night I spent at home, alone, in bed wiped out by another migraine, whilst everyone else was at our neighbours annual Christmas carols/drinks (something I used to look forward to each year), but once again, I couldn’t participate in, because of this bloody illness.
This morning, I was awoken at 5am due to my body deciding to hurl my insides all over my pyjamas, and bed sheets. Anorexia really is the antithesis of glamourous, that’s the reality of it, and I am SICK OF IT.
It ruins everything.
This could well be our last Christmas spent in the company of both my grandparents, yet anorexia just convinced me that Mummy’s Shepherds pie was far “too scary”, and supper would be far “too late”… so instead I ate a safer option, at anorexia’s preferred time, in just Mummy’s company. I’m literally handing over my life to anorexia… since when did I become so weak; such a shell of a person?! Where the hell’s my fight gone?
This may sound very ott, when at the basis of things, I suppose I’m just talking about not eating Shepherds pie for supper tonight. But, that’s just it, it’s always ‘tonight’, anorexia never lets me see the wider perspective. Aged 40 I won’t remember the guilt from eating this or that, I won’t remember the time I ate, with whom, where. What I will remember are the happy memories, the moments spent laughing with those I love the most, and at this rate, never mind not having the memories aged 40… this will have killed me long before then.
Yesterday I weighed myself… I’m the lowest I’ve ever been; both in weight, and mood. Yet that number still wasn’t low enough. It will never be low enough. I just wish the rational Mima would remember that when anorexia whispers yet more convincing lies.
So, an honest post, perhaps my most honest yet… currently, I am not okay. I am heading straight for hospital, every day that passes I’m handing anorexia the last of my life. I’ve only been home a week, and already the uninvited guest has induced multiple tears from those I love the most. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, as I’ve said before, Christmas has always been Mima’s prime time, Mima’s favourite time of the year, yet I’m sat here already wishing it all to be over. Anorexia is fast ruining mine, and my families fourth Christmas running.
But, it’s no good me being a bystander, as it’ll only continue taking until there’s no more of me left to take. I’m writing this in the hope that if I voice my intentions there’s a greater chance of me sticking to them. So, tomorrow, on the 24th December 2018, I will make every decision to go against this horrid illness. I will stop protecting what’s killing me. I will be open, and trust those around me, as right now, I evidently cannot trust myself.
“Today, do something that your future self will thank you for” – I don’t think my future self will thank me if I’m sat in the same position in a year’s time, come on Mima, you HAVE to do this.
Below are photos of a happier Mima, a Mima pre-anorexia, the Mima I want to, no, will, get back to.
