Can I be brave?

First of all, I have been completely overwhelmed by the response to this blog - that so many people have not only read it, but even took the effort to get in touch and offer encouragement. I am truly blessed by the beautiful people in my life!

But one thing feels desperately wrong. So many of you have called me "brave" and "courageous" for doing this - and I feel that I do not merit this at all. In fact, the best word to describe me is this:

Selfish.

Absolutely, 100%, pig-headedly SELFISH.

This isn't a new idea. Sometimes I feel I should have the word tattooed or carved onto my skin, as a badge of shame. Let me explain...

There are no good points to this illness. Staying chronically undernourished (and exhausted, and cold, and cranky and self-absorbed...) only hurts me and hurts others. My parents worry - this isn't fair on them at all, as they move into what should be the "golden years" of retirement, blessed with the pleasure of watching their children become more independent. My wider family worry. My friends- wonderful as they are - worry. I use up the time and resources of professionals and medical services. All this concern and sadness - all because of me.

And to top it all, I hate it as well. Living this ridiculous, never-satisfying half-life; not living up to the full ideals of anorexia (of wasting away to nothing and escaping the misery in my mind), not being well enough to have a full life. There is no chance of fulfilment here and I end each day with despair that I haven't done anything proactive again. I don't stay in this condition because I want to, but because I am just too scared and terrified to be any different.

So I'm not brave at all - a selfish coward is closer to the mark. The brave thing to do would be to challenge myself, put myself in the position of feeling miserable and uncomfortable and guilty by taking the plunge. No one is "rooting for the anorexia", no one is willing me to stay in this state. It is completely ungrateful of me to squander the opportunities that I have been given - to be paid to do research! to do a PhD in Sheffield! to just LIVE in a peaceful country and learn about others! - to this madness which benefits no one. I can't think too closely of the cases I know where young people have had their lives tragically cut short or diminished by illnesses or terrible accidents because this brings into focus how I have squandered all I was freely given.

But I still have the chance to prove that I can be brave. I have that chance every day.

Yet there is always the easier option, of delaying the challenge to "another day" and giving in - carrying on the same pattern to appease the guilt monster. Anything for an easy, comfortable life.

Except it's not easy or comfortable at all. Mad isn't it?

I hope I can be brave. Time will tell, but I haven't got much left...

Waiting for a magic moment that isn't going to come...

It's been almost two months now since I was thrown out of the University and told that I needed to put on a stone in weight before I could come back. Technically, I haven't got ANY time to lose, as part of the requirements for my return are that I can demonstrate that I can maintain a healthy weight for a significant period (i.e. several months). So what have I done?

Nothing.

Understandable, said my GP, when I saw her a week after it happened; I was still reeling in the shock of it all and hadn't been able to muster any effort of will to make a change. But now my situation has sunk in, the practicalities digested, etc. it really is time to get to work.

Unfortunately, this illness makes me a master at putting things off. All through the first year of my PhD, the medical service and the University were urging me to put on weight, to build a "safety net" so I didn't plummet below the threshold in response to stress or illness. And I fully intended to...but....it was never the right moment. I kept seizing on events and using these to justify putting off actually doing anything - Oh, after this conference, then I will do something....after this report...I can't possibly change anything before I go on holiday....and that is how whole years have dragged by without me really taking myself in hand. The decisions we make day by day by day really do shape who we are, over the course of time.

I am waiting for a magic moment that will never happen - for something to somehow make it easier to challenge my routines of undernourishment and compulsive exercising. But it won't come. This week I was sent for an assessment at the Mental Health Clinic in Sheffield to see what services they could offer. I started to think that this might be the catalyst for change....
...but really they didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. And I have to accept that, in my current state of mind, no one else can really help me, whether I recieve treatment as an outpatient, in the day service or as an inpatient in a specialised eating disorder unit (!). The change has to come from me.

As I read on another blog on anorexia written by Emily Troscianko (fully recovered), it is common for sufferers of anorexia to fall into this trap. In reality, there IS no magic moment, instead we CREATE that moment, the instant we take action towards getting better.

I know what I need to do and that no one can do it for me.

But I'm still waiting, still holding out for....what?

And meanwhile, time moves on, time will run out as it has always inexorably done in the past. Every single day which I end, exhausted, is another failure towards the greater goal. I may achieve what I want - feeling comfortable or at least avoiding guilt by sticking to my regimes - but I am losing the ability, more and more, to fight back to where I really need to be. And yearn to be, if I can ever acknowledge my long-term dreams beyond the short-term questions of each day - To exercise or not to exercise? To eat more or not? To challenge my thinking, embrace freedom of thought and expression.... or Not?