A Moment of Light

'She realised she had this one. This big, bold and beautiful life. And she realized she didn’t want to live it chasing and crying and apologizing. Starving and fearing and regretting. She realized she wanted to live it proudly and freely and creatively. Lovingly and fully and sweetly. She realised she could choose. And so, she chose.'

It's been a while, a long while and I'm sorry. To be honest I became really scared of writing and sharing. I became terrified of sharing my truth, frightened to lay bare my vulnerabilities and afraid of what you, reading this right now, may think or do! It's so silly but in a way I became most afraid of what could happen..what someone could say, what someone could think and what someone could do but living in fear is no way to live and if I want to share my truth and inspire others than I have to embrace those fears and accept that they aren't going to just leave. The greatest reason though, and something different that I have grown to become really quite afraid of, of which my family and loved ones warned me about from day one, is of others who are struggling with their own pain and heartaches, asking for my support and guidance. I really want to help every aching soul on this earth, I would do anything to try my best to save and solder together your broken pieces but a few months ago it became a little overwhelming. 'Stop carrying other peoples monkeys on your back, it's not your job to save everyone', my loved ones often say, and so, I have taken a long break from writing. I wish that I could help you, heal your heart and mend your aching heart if you are struggling with pain right now, but I can not do that. I am just a young girl trying to find her way through her own sense of anguish while trying my best to enlighten and inspire you to perhaps work on navigating your own. It sounds so selfish and heartless, I'm so sorry. I pray and hope you find the inner strength and courage to reach out to a loved one, professional or someone who is themselves mentally strong enough and capable to help you...I am sorry that I am not that person but hopefully someday, when I am fully free, I can help you too.

Have you ever had a moment of clarity when everything seemed to fall into place? When everything suddenly made sense? When the lightbulb flickered and it all just clicked? When I began my recovery journey, I searched endlessly for the switch that would ignite the light in my darkness. I tried everything and anything to feed the insatiable search for a catalyst in my recovery. I teetered on the edge of the schism between life and death, recovery and illness, hoping that my hopes, supports, medications, treatments, loved ones and diminishing inner courage would eventually compile to bridge the gap; finally tempting me to step a shaking foot across. It never happened. You see I have always always wanted to get better. From the moment I first started throwing my little 4th class packed lunch away, I wanted to not have it to be this way. Even when I screamed that I would jump in front of car if an extra pea was placed on my plate, even when a lady found me collapsed on the side of the road from walking on empty, even when I let this illness pull me out of college...I wanted to get better; I just didn't know how. I know you may think, 'just eat, rest and gain weight!!', and I completely understand and agree that that is a major major aspect of recovery but I've tried that in my first admission...and it didn't work. I still felt the same ache in my soul and the same throbbing in my heart of which the only way I ever knew how to quieten, was through starvation. I've always believed I am bad. Not the kind of bad that commits crimes or intentionally hurts others...but the kind of bad that runs deep within my bones and seeps into every crevice of my being. An innate inherent evil, so horrific that I believed for so so so long that the only way I should be allowed to live, is with as little impact as possible. I began to question every breath my lungs sucked in, every word my lips allowed leave, and of course, every bite my mouth met...it was all too much. I was too loud, too lazy, too arrogant, too unkind, too selfish, too uncaring, too rude, too bossy, too ignorant...I was too much yet paradoxically never ever enough. I thought that if I gave and gave and gave...if I never took from this world, became perfect in my behaviour, impeccable in my thoughts, pure in my being; I would finally grant myself a permission slip to stay alive. An oxymoron that led to the further grip of anorexia onto my mind, body and soul. No matter how many months I spent in hospital, no matter how many therapists I saw, no matter how many self help books I read; nothing majorly substantial ever occurred in my recovery because while I always have wanted to get better, the desire to shrink, to take up less space, to never be the cause of any harm; always hid the how to get better. 

However, one day, with the saving grace of the universe or a higher entity of which I will be forever grateful, a beam of light appeared, the lightbulb twinkled ever so slightly and a glimmer of flickering hope began to glisten into my life. Like all magical fairytales, this began on the ruins of an old castle on a beautiful September's day. My cousin was getting married and I was surrounded by the unconditional love of dear ones and raptured by the differing beauty of strangers. Of course, the eating disorder was omnipresent, with every moment experienced through Anorexia's dark distortions. All that mattered to me that day was ensuring I survived the event, eating as little as possible while appearing completely normal and ok. It's funny how things can happen. How in one moment you can be encapsulated by something so evil only to be whisked away by a wave of love seconds later. When the bride and groom's first dance came on, I couldn't help but be consumed with the unequivocal power of unconditional, everlasting, unrestricted, limitless love. In that moment nothing else mattered to these two souls, to each other, they were and are perfect, whole and deserving. In that moment, the size of their hips nor the greatest of their self perceived failings were significant. In that moment, I realised, love was, and always has been, the answer. I thought I could hate myself into getting better. Just as I thought I could starve away the pain, run away the resentment and perfect away the loneliness; I thought I could crawl out of this illness while still maintaining the same internal bond. I had, of course, heard it over and over, 'in order to recover you have to be more compassionate towards yourself, you must develop a sense of self kindness, you need to stop being so hard on yourself'...but my stubborn desire for being anything less than perfect, was too powerful to ever imagine a moment of mindful softness. I didn't and still don't want to entertain the thought of coming to terms with who I am. To not only accept my authentic true self but to also contemplate that perhaps my personal greatest flaws are and were, never my own to begin with...but just another deceiving lie the eating disorder has trained me, and every other sufferer, to believe so it can further keep us under its wrath. I have come to realise, that even though I abhor the idea of not punishing and hating my mind and body, I have to come to terms with the fact that if I ever ever want to recover, I have to teeter into a world of possibilities, one in which I am not innately bad. I have to consider that I may too be worthy of love. That I may too be worthy of taking up space on this earth. That I may too be worthy of a life lived free of self imposed rules for simply existing. I don't believe any of these, yet, but rewiring a life long way of thinking and believing takes time, and, instead of grasping to subsist in the raven of a black and white world, I am trying to see the softer greys, I am working so hard to hopefully someday dream and dance in dazzling colour. I am beginning to finally allow this softness in and it feels all so terrifyingly scary yet at once beautifully magical. 

The day after, I wrote this, and I have remained committed, while at times extremely and impossibly hard, since.

'Today, marks the beginning of my new life. Today I discharged myself from my psychiatrist, dietician and therapist. I have spent the past eight years in and out of hospital and services, constantly giving my power over to others convincing myself that someone someday will save me, but nobody can, I have to finally really be brave, let go and save myself. I know deep down I have the power and strength within me to dive in; to actually eat, to rest, to let go. Today is the beginning of embarking on my full real recovery journey. I'm tired of talking about my past, of crying over one extra calorie, of failing and failing at meal plans, of being told my case is hopeless and that I'll never recover. I'm so hungry...for love, for life, for happiness, for freedom and of course for food as terrifying as that is to admit. I'm so sick, weak and tired of you Anorexia. Being with my family this weekend awakened me to how miserable I am, you destroy every moment with your constant screams. Anorexia, you have taken my life; I have left college because of you, hurt my family because of you, destroyed my health because of you, lost myself because of you, but this is the true beginning of me getting my life back and discovering the true Lauren, without you. I am terrified, truly petrified to eat, gain weight, not exercise, rest, be kind to my mind, body and soul but I can no longer let fear dominate my life. I choose to go all in now, this is going to be excruciating but I have to try to believe that there are people who truly love me, no matter what I look like or eat. I will destroy you Ana. I want my life back. I can't do it for myself yet but for now I do it for my loved ones; to stop their pain, to make them proud, to give back the endless love, care and support they relentlessly give to me. I am fully committing to using all my will and strength to oppose every thought and belief you poison my mind with and it's terrifying but I trust in the universe and its plan. I will not get fatter or horrible or fuller of badness. I will regain the life, love, weight and health you have stolen. I am determined this time and luckily I am surrounded by so much love and care and support. I am about to go out for morning tea and a scone with my mom. I haven't done or eaten this in 8 years. I'm shaking as I write this, I'm terrified but my life will be beautiful. If you never try you'll never know, if you never eat you'll never grow!'

'Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can't cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It's just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal.'

lots of love & peace & happiness



Lauren x

The Body Image Battle

Body image; a person's perception of the aesthetics or attractiveness of their own body. It involves how a person sees themselves, compared to the standards that have been set by society. Body image is the perception that a person has of their physical self and the thoughts and feelings that result from that perception. You can read a more in-depth analysis and description of body images (plus lots of tips) here.

Perhaps a simpler everyday question more aptly defines it; 'how do you feel when you look in the mirror?'. I am not an expert in body image, in fact very much the opposite hehe! This is just the rambling for a girl who seriously struggles with her body image and who hopes to help you through the various techniques and tools learned. I understand how lucky I am to have received help and to have had professional treatment from some of the best in our small country and so if anything I learned can be shared and help others, then, I hope and pray I can do that and that it does! I'm not going to lie, the exercises and tools I will be sharing with you did not change my life or in true honesty, impact on my body image for more than a few minutes or hours. However, everybody and every body is different, perhaps these exercises may transform your thoughts or maybe, like me, the may even ease your unease for a few moments..and that's fantastic too! Maybe my thoughts may enlighten or perhaps upset you but I hope by the end of this, that you may leave with something greater than when you came <3

My beautiful sister made me this scrapbook a few years ago. Looking back at it again now fills me with tears. I am so lucky to have her. It makes me emotional also looking at photos of me as a young girl who was happy and free and only cared about how fast her legs could run and not their size.

My Body Image Journey 

My personal body image issues seemed to begin at around the age of 8 when I was making my communion. I don't know why but I felt fat, short and stout. Even looking at pictures of the girl I once was now, I see a chubby little piggy, a lego man; boxy and compressed. Fast forward 12 years later, this is what I still see. It's strange because without a doubt, the degrees of which this image is seen varies daily. When I eat a scary food or before a big event or when I am having a stressful day; I can interpret myself as the Michelin man. When it comes to describing my body, I am the human thesaurus heheheh 'little miss piggy, garden gnome, fat dwarf, big clunky box (like what?!?! how does my mind interpret my body as that lol!!), squashed marshmallow, Toad from Super Mario Bros, chunky mushroom, hippopotamus, Oompa Loompa, munchkin'...the list goes on! (I spent hours combing through my diaries to find each description so I do promise you that those thoughts and feelings are wholly true and real for me). I am giggling away at myself as I read these as to how absurd they may sound to you but its what I see yet more importantly, how I feel. While on other days, I can accept that maybe my vision is a little bit skewed. I find that particularly scary about my own sense of my body. How, without any physical change in appearance, the mental image with which my own eyes perceive can completely transform, petrifies me.

I feel so lucky that I don't have full fledged body dimorphic disorder however, a few years ago after being asked to draw a picture of what I see when I look in the mirror (see below), I was diagnosed with body dysmorphia (or distorted body image) as a direct symptom of anorexia. It's terrifying, not because of what I see, but because I am being told to trust and believe that what I see isn't real. I remember trying to explain it to someone, asking them to describe the colour of the night sky which was sparkling above us. When I told them that their answer was wrong and the sky was not black but in fact a bright neon yellow, they laughed and told me I was crazy. That's what body dysmorphia feels like. It is seeing something with your own two eyes, it is feeling it with every cell in your body, it is deeply innately knowing a truth which is disputed by the world as a lie...and that is what terrifies me. I don't understand how I can read a novel, rejoice at the colours of the rainbow and compliment the beauty of my best friend yet when I look in the mirror, the reflection I perceive is said to be a lie. Then, even if I do try to consider that perhaps what I see isn't real, I quiver at the thought that maybe exactly what I see is real yet I just don't like it and this is people's way of trying to make me feel better about it all and to accept myself as is. What if I can perceive myself perfectly as is and it's all just a lie?! I always try to remember one doctor's response to these fears, 'that is a symptom of the dysmorphia in itself, the belief that you don't have it, the belief that everyone is lying except your mind'.

I once met a fabulous guy who had body dysmorphia. His pain and suffering was tragically incomprehensible. The intensity and power of the lies his mind was telling him just truly did not make sense to me. His horrific pain (I hope and pray that he is doing well) however now has purpose in my life and that beautiful soul luckily helps me in trying to remember that he couldn't perceive himself properly even though every doctor and stranger and friend tried everything to convince him, so perhaps maybe neither can I, and maybe, neither can you. I would really recommend the BBC3 documentary 'Ugly Me' which beautifully captures the pain and irrationality of body dysmorphic disorder.

The #bodypositive movement seems to be everywhere recently which I think is so exciting and brilliant yet slightly intimidating. The concept of body love seems both magical yet, personally anyway, extremely allusive and inconceivable! At times, even body acceptance seems too far fetched, which is why for now I am striving towards body tolerance. The other day I was having a really tough time. I tried my best to ignore every mirror, camera and shiny surface, however that evening when I shuffled through the kitchen ensuring I wasn't looking at the reflective spoon in my hand, I caught a glance of my thighs and hips in the mirror and immediately broke down. Whether you can stare at yourself forever (go you!!!) or cripple walking past a shop window (I feel you honey), I believe we could all do with cultivating a more positive life long loving relationship with our one true home, our body.

The image I drew of what I believed I looked like. This is the image I still hold today and work to change.

How To Improve Your Body Image

When I was in hospital we had a weekly body image group. It was the only group we always had and was of course the one which we all absolutely dreaded. It was hard; really really really hard. Some of the exercises were, while extremely painful, transformative. Others however, like having to stand with minimum clothes on in front of a mirror and stare at yourself...were not. I recently found my notes from those groups so I thought I might share somethings with you that may spark a counteractive body thought within you or perhaps help you in your body image journey someway. PS these are my own notes and writing so I hope I am not doing anything bad or illegal by sharing some of the help and guidance I received from these classes ahh! I believe that I am truly so lucky and blessed to have received help and guidance from services and I am so aware that not everyone can access these. I hope that I can share everything and anything that I learned (whether I found useful or not) and that they may be of help to you. I wish every single person, specifically every young adult and teenager, could access this information but I hope in sharing these exercises that a change in how people view and treat their bodies may begin. You will need a pen, paper, a cup full of compassion, an open mind and a tissue (you may just cry, hopefully with tears of happiness).

Dear Body

If you could write a poem to your body, the one thing that has been with you for every single moment of your existence, what would you say? Would you scream at your thighs for not being skinny enough? Would you yell at your legs for not being muscly enough? Would you roar at your hips for not being curvy enough? Or, would you thank your legs for holding you up while you dance into the early hours of the morning with your best friends? Would you rejoice at your brain for getting you through an exam having pulled an all nighter? Would you smile at your palms for allowing you to hold the hands of those you love? Or perhaps you would apologise; say sorry for all the years that you hated it for not being enough. Or, maybe you would say nothing, maybe engaging with your body now is still too scary but at least you may have just opened up that initial space for thought and conversation. Maybe even just the idea of cultivating a more loving and accepting relationship is enough; maybe that is where the healing begins.

Image Impact

Draw a small circle, another circle around it and finally a third circle encompassing all three. In the middle write 'me', in the second perimeter write 'loved ones' and in the third write 'others'. Beginning from the side out, insert the effect of having a negative body image relationship upon each of the various titles. For example, in the innermost circle you may have 'self hatred, anger, low mood, anxiety, avoid social events, avoid photos, fearful of intimate relationships, unable to enjoy shopping' etc etc! Then work outwards until each circle is complete eg loved ones may contain 'distrust towards others, feeling left out, too self absorbed to interact fully with them' while others may contain 'perceived as a loner, inability to develop more meaningful relationships, perceived as uninterested'. I found this exercise really helpful when I did it, as upon completion, I realised that the issues within the two outer circles all stemmed from the pain of which I held within me. For example, if I could improve my body image and ability to attend group gatherings well then I would solve the problem of feeling left out and then I would solve the fear of being perceived as a loner. Apparently it is the whole point of the exercise; to help us to recognise that in order to change our life and situations, we must first change ourselves. This can be hard as while we may do everything to shift our own mindset, it can take a while for the ripple effect outwards to occur and thus we may give up thinking 'it's hopeless', however 'never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn'.

My body image impact diagram from that point in my life. 

Body Blessings

This exercise may be very similar to the body letter but perhaps your piece of personal prose had a completely different approach! This is to simply write a list with a steady beating grateful heart, of everything your body can do and has done for you. Your eyes allow you to view the magic of sunsets, your ears enable you to wake up to the sound of birds chirping (or your dreaded alarm heheh), your nose reminds you of a magical childhood memory as you walk past the sweet shop. These tiny things we take for granted, yet, such luxuries are not available to everyone sadly. Can you imagine just how much someone without the ability to see would give up just to see the faces of those they love? To make this exercise even more powerful, try appreciating the very specific parts of your body which you detest the most. It's hard and will go against every grain of your soul. Crying about my hips last night seems incredibly insignificant and ignorant now.

Shedding the Struggle

What could you lose if you ended the conflicting relationships with your body? Personally, I fear losing a sense of control, that I would let myself go and be 'happy' and 'accepting' of my features and flaws. I also fear losing my identity, who would I be without this self awarded 'I hate myself' label? My biggest fear in essence, perhaps what it all bubbles down to, is happiness...but that whole topic is for another day maybe lol! More importantly however, the question is; what would you gain if this struggle was severed? Freedom in mind, body and soul, headspace, peace, joy, better relationships, enriched experiences, ability to reach your full potential...the list goes on and on! What could you absorb or shed in growing towards the light of love?

'Listen to me, your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest—thick canopies of maple trees and sweet scented wildflowers sprouting in the underwood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated.'

Take Off Your Mask

Who are you? Who are you really? Who is behind your mask…or perhaps, one should wonder, what is it that you are hiding?

We all wear masks, it’s part of human nature now to evolve, change and morph our personalities, characteristics and values to adapt to our surroundings. Being our constant true selves just wouldn’t do in today’s world. Would it be ok to laugh and giggle at a funeral or to stand up and scream in a full class room? I mean, that doesn’t stop everyone but you get my drift hehe. As emotional sentient beings, it is part of our nature to regulate our emotions, transform our thoughts and shape our wording, behaviour and expressions to suit certain situations and to fit into ideal societal expected norms; it is innately within us to wear a mask. We have learnt through exposure and been taught this since we began to express ourselves as young children, ‘you shouldn’t say that’, ‘you must be polite’, ‘if this happens then you must say/do/be this’. Masks are normal, needed and natural; without them there would probably be a lot more controversy, aggression and discomfort in our society (imagine if you told that person how you really really felt about them instead of politely nodding and smiling). Masks can also give us hope, strength and courage. We may feel terrified and nervous to speak to a large group of people, but that’s ok; we can simply place our mask of courage on, we can protect ourselves and we can simply pretend. 'Fake it till you make it', can sometimes be the most empowering freeing piece of advice one could ever receive. It removes the pressure on us to be and instead allows us to simply try, while knowing that we can fall back to our true natural selves if faced with failure.

'Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.'

But what happens when you begin to wear your mask too often? What happens when you forget to take it off, or even worse, become fearful of removing it? What happens when the mask seeps into your skin and traps your true form within? What happens when the mask you so carefully designed to protect you, ends up becoming the very alternative; the mask that destroys you.  

We all wear masks, and, depending on who you are, your charades may be fruitful, efficient, effective, beneficial and appropriate. Other’s costumes however, become so engraved deep within their skin that it feels almost impossible to take it off, perhaps except only to the select few. 

Just like everyone else, I wear masks. I try my best to connect, react and express myself appropriately according to various situations. However, a long time ago I developed a mask; a mask that no matter how hard I claw or pull at still, remains stuck. Maybe I just have a really sticky face hehe. This mask is called the brave face. We all apply this façade at times..imagine just how well it would go down if you were the one bawling crying at the site of a spider while baby sitting toddlers lol! Sometimes we have to be a big girl/boy, we have to toughen up and pretend everything is all ok. Something within me however, and many many others who most definitely struggle with this, took this desire and need to please, protect and not burden others, to the extreme. Thus we began to wear the mask more often, even in situations when wearing it may not have been very helpful to us. ‘Are you ok?’, someone asks as you walk out of the bathroom stall with red eyes and running mascara..'yes perfect just got something in my eye lol, how are you, are you ok, tell me your problems, how can I help you, let me be of service to you!’. 

Perhaps you may be questioning, so what, what’s so bad about putting on a brave face?! Isn’t it good not to burden others? Isn’t it good to be strong? Isn’t it good to learn how to cope by yourself? And I agree wholeheartedly; yes yes yes…until the last one, what if you do not know how to cope alone? 

When a brave face becomes so entrenched, the often terrified and scared soul behind the mask becomes less and less heard. You can scream and cry and shout and punch but the brave face grows very strong; it can mute you, dissolve you, constrain you and pull the true you so far from the reach and grasp of others that it becomes impossible for anybody to ever recognise that deep down, there is a scared, sad and solemn soul within. 

Such courageous masks can be deceptive, manipulative and hurtful. When I was thirteen years old and a demon called anorexia began to seep into my mind, the brave face, in correlation, grew stronger. At the age of sixteen, when the mask ever so slightly tore and a completely unprecedented world of pain began to seep out of the cracks pouring onto those I love, how was anyone to know that that darkness was there, hiding, all along? A while later, in my first inpatient hospital admission for the illness, my brave face fully healed, restored and repaired; it was stronger than ever. This strong steel armour fooled even the most expert of psychiatrists, doctors and nurses. I was still in the grips of a monster but the brave face helped the anorexia to trick them all that I was well enough to be discharged, only to be sicker than ever and readmitted a few months later (read my Lessons From My Mental Hospital here).

I think something which makes brave faces even scarier is that they are self-instilling, it becomes a vicious self-enforcing cycle. When you are locked behind a mask and screaming for help, you get tired, lonely and maybe even resentful. Such experiences create further beliefs that you are uncared for and unworthy, thus, you begin to believe that you should just stop screaming out because nobody really cares to listen to you anyway.  I am so guilty of getting so upset and frustrated internally upon receiving feedback or compliments on how much ‘happier’ or ‘healthier’ or ‘great’ I seem..sometimes I just want to scream ‘I am in so much pain, how can’t you see!’ but instead I smile and say thank you, further enabling the masks cyclical cynical nature. 

Wearing a brave face is tiring but I have also noticed that it can actually start to become your true self, proving that ‘fake it till you make it’ may indeed be possible and oh so empowering. However, acknowledging that you may actually be a little bit happier, that you have grown into your new skin or that *biggest fear of all* your inner demons may have a slightly smaller grip on you, sometimes, scares us even more than the pain we hid for so long. The creation of a new agony for its own sheer absence. Perhaps one of the most piercing paradoxes of pain is its longing to go yet its longing to never ever leave you. I think especially in eating disorder recovery, any compliment or comment which could in anyway be interpreted as journeying further down the recovery path, equates to fat, disgusting, ugly, obese, wobbly...you name it. Someone recently told me that my finger nails were nice and I cried because I believed it meant I was fat; because skeletal people can’t have nice finger nails and that’s what the anorexia wants, to be a walking rotting ghost. I think it is terrifying for anyone with any pain to truly let go. How do you embrace softness, how do you embrace light, how do you embrace a beautiful new reflection which no longer longs for a mask of pretence?

Maybe it is in the very act of shining a light on the darkness that the self-enforcing cycle can begin to dissolve and we can reveal both the shadows and sparkles within us to all around. Take off your mask, allow yourself to be seen, throughout all aspects of your unveiling. Perhaps you are cloaked in a heavy constraining armour, full of hidden secrets, emotions and thoughts or maybe your pages have already began to turn and you’re becoming a more open book. Wherever you are in your journey, it’s ok. There’s no judgement, only awe, in witnessing your vulnerability. 

'To share your darkness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.'

I don’t want people to look at me and think that a life can always be rosy. Someone I love recently told me that ‘I’m full of sh*t’. It hurt and upset me but their belief that it’s time I stop pretending my world is a conglomerate of inspiring quotes, yoga classes, perfect grades, beautiful sunsets and exciting parties, consumed me as, if that’s what others perceive and believe, then, I am a liar. And so, in vulnerability, I take the leap into the light and unveil my hidden shadows to you. For only in shining a torch on our pain can it ever begin to dissolve. I don’t feel too good. The first few months of college were magical; so new, exciting and exhilarating that it took me away from even thinking about or addressing my underlying issues within. By Christmas it truly hit me just how stuck I was and am. Anorexia is still at the core of my life (read my story here). I promised myself once the leaving cert was over that I would do everything and anything to begin the journey of full recovery; that I would gain a kinder self view, that I would reach a healthy weight and most importantly that I would begin the lifelong odyssey towards reaching a healthy mind. It’s been almost two years since my last hospital admission and here I am; the exact same confused and consumed girl. It’s amazing, I can attend college, I can go on holidays, I can go out with friends, I can live out of home and perhaps that’s the part of the mask which you see of which has become easier to embrace and the part of the illness which has been hard to let go. But, what is not seen is that I can't nor have never eaten in front of anyone in college (except an apple once and it was so hard), that I can’t socialise because instead I must exercise, that I turn down countless invitations because everyone else will be eating, that I walk down the streets with my head down for fear I'll catch a glimpse of my body in a shop window, that I have to bring a bag full of my safe food when travelling abroad, that I ruin so many precious and ‘should be magic’ family moments because I am crying over how much I hate myself. What about life? What about living? I went from barely alive to now being able to survive. But is that it? Is this life; this heavily biased (im)balance between life and death? When at times the ocean of my mind becomes very quiet and still, when the thoughts of self hatred and loathing settle to the bottom, a question from a foreign wave of self compassion floats to the top; is this what I deserve? Do I deserve to someday perhaps thrive and not just survive? I know what I would say if you reading this came with such a query, it's just often so hard to apply such kindness and understanding to ourselves. Along with struggling to fight this illness, these thoughts have me in a further absolute muddle over the past few months. I'm so scared. Every word I type I can almost hear my thoughts screaming in unison..'people are going to laugh at you, you're way too fat for anyone to ever think you're struggling', 'how dare you even question if you deserve a better life, you're not even worthy enough for a life, full stop', 'you're not in pain, you're just weak, stupid, selfish, lazy and an attention seeker', 'people have it so much worse off and here you are, horrible ugly little miss piggy actually considering that what all the professionals, family members, friends and strangers say is true..that you may actually be ill, with a self view in both body and mind completely warped...the cheek of you, go run outside and burn that thigh jiggle and maybe then we'll consider this whole life thing'.  

I was going to delete that, it's extremely personal and usually something only my diary ever sees but that is what currently lies behind my mask. These are my shadows and perhaps this act of expression may be the beginning of their rebirth into stars. My biggest biggest fear is that you reading this may think I am selfish and ignorant; crying out for attention, pity or love and I hope and pray with every ounce of me that that is not how this comes across. I am soooo deeply aware that my suffering is so minute and inadequate to the torment and agony that is cast upon others and for that I am so forever grateful, yet, I am also aware that such a thought alone holds me, and I can only presume many others, back from dropping our masks in the first place. Your pain is valid, but that does not mean that it's welcome in your life. I truly hope that in sharing my darkness, you may gain the courage and strength to allow the gleaming rays of love, compassion and empathy to fall upon yours. In courage there is strength, we gain power over our pain.

There is one very important question I want you to ask yourself right now, 'what lies behind my mask?'. Maybe you don't think you are wearing one or perhaps you are scared to peak beneath, but, I promise you, that only in confronting the night of our soul can we reach the boundless, unconditional, shining rise of the day. 

Furthermore, I ask you to take the next step and to share your findings. Talk, scream, call, text, write, dance, sing it out. I would absolutely love if you could comment your finding below, even anonymously if you so choose. Express, reveal, unveil and watch how much lighter you will become. You are so brave. I am so proud of you.

'What happens when people open their hearts?'

'They get better.'

I hope you enjoyed!

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lots of love & peace & happiness

Tear Up Your Rulebook

What are some rules you live by? Rules are convenient, necessary perhaps even essential to our daily lives. If we didn't have rules there would be chaos, disorder and sheer pandemonium. Regulations keep us in line, help us to understand what is right and wrong, while they also guide us in our every day lives and subconscious actions. But what if all rules aren't so helpful? What if the rules we are living by, the boundaries of which we are trying to act within and the precedents of which we are ensuring we must always abide by, are the very things that are causing chaos in our minds and turmoil in our hearts? What if our rules become toxic evil spells of which we feel there is no escape?

Last Monday I broke a major rule of mine. I am the type of person who likes to be really organised and in control, who likes to know exactly what is happening and who can plan everything into a set scheduled routine. Last Monday was different though. It was 9pm, I was in my pyjamas in my college apartment when my friends came in, all done up, telling me to get ready and that we were all going out. I froze. I did not know what to do! My inner mind was screaming at me..'NO NO NO, you can not go out!!! You can NOT do something spontaneous and unexpected. You have to have this planned. You didn't eat crackers for lunch today and you ALWAYS do that before nights out. You ate a pitta bread for lunch, you can't you simple can not drink alcohol without having eaten crackers for lunch. That's the rule and you can NOT break your rules. You can't break your rituals. You know there are xx more calories in your pitta than there are in your crackers, everyone is going to be looking at you and laughing at how fat and disgusting you are!! It's 9pm, it takes you at least 2 hours to try to look half way decent...if you go out you will look and feel disgusting. You don't deserve to have spontaneous fun, you are not allowed that. Everyone will see you for how fat and disgusting you are! Get into bed and go to sleep, NOW'.

I had only ever broken this standard once before in August of 2017 and doing so scarred me so much that the date became notched onto my brain and I since vowed to never ever ever challenge that self imposed law again. It wasn't the breaking of the rule that terrified me, it was the sheer anxiety that came from tolerating the pain of doing the opposite to what my own mind had told me, that made me quiver. The thing is though, the true inner me wanted to scream yes and go out with my friends, to socialise, to have fun and to live a normal college student life...but I couldn't. 'I really really want to but I can't I can't I can't'; I said it over and over until someone asked me why and my only response was 'because'. How do you tell someone 'oh you see I don't allow myself to have fun unless I pre punish myself and ensure that I have stuck by a pre night out routine, also and most importantly, I had a pitta for lunch today and that's not part of the routine so I can't :)'. I don't know how or why or where it came from, but I am so grateful that an inner courageous voice whispered to my heart, 'go'. And so against every engrained rule and fear, I put on my makeup, did my hair, painted on fake tan (hehe) and got changed; all in a record breaking 30 minutes! And guess what...it was such a lovely night out! Just like that night back in August, despite all of the 'I can'ts, I shouldn'ts and I mustn'ts', I had an amazing night that night too (of course with the help of a little alcohol that definitely eased anxieties hehe). The next day however was the crux for me. The thoughts of shame, regret and self hatred came crashing through. I was so angry at myself, well my perfectionist self was fuming anyway! I felt I had to be punished. It was simply unacceptable to have had spontaneous fun, to not have followed my pre night out routine and to have ignored and overridden my own self proclaimed standards. Luckily on that Tuesday, I had an appointment with my doctor, I text my mom and also met with my angel role model of a sister. They helped me beyond words. They helped me to rationally and calmly question this one rule, its value in my life, its benefits and/or drawbacks and most of all they helped me to realise that normal human beings do not really think that way and it is completely OK to go out and enjoy yourself and have fun. They helped me to break my rule and to be ok in doing so. If I can do it, you can too...we all can! Here are somethings I learned and my fabulous supports taught me about rules, standards and toxic evil spells.

Pick the spell of which you are under, a rule you live by. Perhaps it is 'I can not go to bed unless I wash all of the dishes', 'I can never ever fail a test' or 'I must say yes to every invite no matter how I am feeling and no matter what is occurring in my own life'.

Question It

Apply some perspective to your rule and question its validity. Is this a common human rule that many people have, like having to brush your teeth in the morning, or is this a rule that only you have created and placed on your life alone, a standard which would be very uncommon and unfair if applied to anyone else? My rule for example, 'I must eat crackers for lunch on the days of which I will be going out' is a rule that I presume not many people live by. This time last year I was able to eat my usual pitta bread for lunch and still go out that night, however, over summer I developed the crackers habit (literally, it was crackers heheh) and that habit suddenly became a rule, of which if I broke, there would be severe consequences. It was only when I relayed this rule to my supports the following day that I realised just how inhumane and unjust it was. I couldn't believe when my sister told me that almost every other person eats what they want during a day regardless of if they are going out that night or not. Most humans don't live by a rule that because they ate this or that, they are not allowed to feel good, have fun, be seen, feel worthy, drink alcohol or eat something else. My sister even pointed out to me that when the majority of people do go out or attend events, they eat more than they would on an average day...such as birthday cake or 3am post nightclub pizza. After hearing these rational opposing theories to my belief, my rule didn't seem as solid or valid anymore. Apply this to your rule, ask your friends and supports about their beliefs and see whether your standards are adequate or just absolute 'crackers' hehe.

Say It To Your BFF

Turn to your best friend and tell them 'you are not allowed to relax until you have completed every single piece of homework, I don't care how tired you are' or 'you must not leave your house until you have ensured that your makeup is perfect at least 10 times' or 'you must prepare home cooked meals for your children every single day, or else you're a bad parent'...literally any rule that you have. Seriously imagine saying that to someone you love and just how horrible it would be! I know if I told my best friend that she couldn't go out because she doesn't deserve to after eating a pitta bread for lunch she would laugh or maybe slap me silly at how ridiculous a demand it seemed! We are always harshest towards ourselves, our own biggest enemies and cruelest critics, yet as the age old adage goes, if we treated others the way we treated ourselves, we would have no friends left at all.

Define Its Purpose

Understand the purpose of your rule. Understand why and how it developed to serve you and you can then figure out an alternative kinder rule which may also serve your painful law's purpose. Rules have both benefits and drawbacks. I can see now that my rule helps me to feel safe and secure yet also continues to trap me tightly within the confines of illness. When I follow this certain rule, I feel less anxious about consuming alcohol and less worried about my body image. For some reason, I see such a routine as a way of keeping me safe from the thoughts and fears of feeling fat, ugly, horrible and like a bad person. The rule manifested simply to protect me from pain. However, this standard brings a lot of heartache too. This law abhors all and any spontaneity, lack of control and freedom. This precedent rules out any space for flexibility and normal living. It also creates extreme distress and heartache if it was even slightly altered. What are the advantages and disadvantages of your rule? What is its value and purpose in your life? Does this rule allow you flexibility or is it very black or white? Does this rule make you happy (that is the true you happy and not your fear ridden self)?

Seek Alternatives

On discovering the purpose of your negative rule it is now time to investigate whether there is something that can serve you in the same way yet through a much kinder, compassionate and healthier approach. I found on that very Monday night, that ringing my mom and being distracted by my friends helped me with the thoughts of self loathing and horrible body image. Reaching out for help and support served me just as well as the four crackers would have except the only difference is that one is dangerous, restrictive and traps me further in an illness while the other only strengthens bonds, communications and boosts trusting love. Perhaps an alternative to your rule could be to get out into nature, to read a book, to call a friend, to write a letter...anything that helps give you that sense of fulfilment yet also helps to tolerate the anxiety of opposing your own enslaved desires. Looking back now of course it seems more rational to reach out for help than to follow a strict ritual, yet, of course if it was that simple nobody would ever suffer from there own mind tricks! Reaching out and asking for support takes courage, bravery and vulnerability which in this day and age can seem even more terrifying than being a slave to your own mind. Try an alternative to your rule, I promise you it just might work.

What If?

What is the worst that could happen if you disregard your rule and live outside its boundaries? According to this specific rule, I believed that if I ate something other than crackers for lunch then my hips, thighs, tummy and arms would balloon out before a night out, I would appear obese in every and any photograph, everyone would be laughing and staring at me, I would become hated by everyone, I would be too ugly to be able to ever attract a boy, I would end up isolated forever, I would die alone. Ok of course the first thought is not 'pitta=dying alone' but you can see the spiralling decline into doom lol! When you look deeper into every fear, rule and coping mechanism, you will begin to discover that the thing you are afraid of is not truly what you are afraid of. As humans, our only true fear is death, yet our modern brain has adapted to associate and link certain perceived threats to death, and so, smaller perhaps insignificant things can now trap you in your own prison of fear. The true me isn't scared of a pitta bread but I have subconsciously grown to believe that if I eat a pitta bread and go out that same night, I will die alone (this is not the instant thought reaction, but when you follow through with each of your thoughts, you may often find that there is an underlying greater central controlling fear). When you take a step back from 'pitta=dying alone' you can understand how ridiculous and funny it is, yet, one must first break it down and follow the thought's path to understand why a pitta bread creates so much fear, anxiety and terror. Try choosing a rule you have and journaling out all of the 'what ifs' and consequences. Follow through with each thought and hopefully you will see that the law which protected you from pain is perhaps shielding a much greater deeper hurt and fear within yourself of which is being masked by your very own version of a pitta bread heheh.

Test Yo' Self

If you never try you'll never know. This is the scary part, the 'feel the far and do it anyway' part, the part where you have to be really brave, really strong and really resilient. Break your rule. Eat your pitta bread heheh. Maybe if you believe the earlier mentioned rule, that you must make your children home cooked meals every day or else you are a bad parent, you could go straight to McDonalds and treat your children to a burger and chips. When you roll down the window and speak to the server, your voice will be shaking. When you pay the cashier the money, your hands will be quivering. When you see your children squeal in delight over a curly fry, your mind will be screaming 'you are a bad bad bad parent, if you were any good you would be slaving over the oven right now, you clearly don't truly care for your children, you are bad bad bad'. It's going to be hard and you are going to have to sit through and tolerate that anxiety...but the sparkle of sunshine is that that anxiety will dissipate. You will survive your rebellion and you will live to see that all of your worst fears and 'what ifs' in fact did not come true. The following day I asked myself if any of my feared 'will definitely happen' consequences came true. Did I die alone? Nope. Did my friends hate me? Nope. Did I become obese? I hope not! Did I have a horrible night? Absolutely not! Only through testing and defying your rules can you further discover if they hold any truths or necessity in your life. Furthermore, when you break it once, you will find that it becomes automatically easier to break it a second time. Through continued exposure and testing of your boundaries, you will realise that there was no need to have been so strict and restraining towards yourself for so long!

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lots of love & peace & happiness


Lauren x

Mental hospital taught me the true meaning of power. While the process of any form of treatment is the slow regaining of your true power and not that of your addiction or illness, in the beginning of treatment I felt so incredibly powerless. Nothing strips you of your human dignity more than being told that you aren't allowed to walk or that you have to put more than a milligram of porridge on your spoon at a time. The pain and shame that came with having a nurse hold your hand as you cried over more blood tests and the humiliation and confusion that came with having a flashlight pointed at you every half hour to check you are sleeping, is both degrading and humbling. Such moments of intense helplessness and a screaming suppressed ego helped me to analyse my true definition of power and dignity. I felt like a puppet, my strings controlled by psychiatrists, nurses and doctors. On reflection I can see that it was exactly what had to, and in some aspects still needs to, occur in my life. I now believe that true power is being able to control ones thoughts, emotions and actions. I believed I lost every ounce of power when I first began treatment, however I can realise now that I lost my true power a long long time before that; the very moment mental illness infested my mind. In order to learn how to gain true power, I believe we must start from scratch. Like a weed, in order to cleanse the soil, sometimes you have to dig up the whole garden, including the beautiful flowers. I used to believe that power was going three days without food and running until you collapsed. However, my true self also valued that power was freedom, self expression and choice. Yet, just like the weed, in order to cleanse the soul, sometimes you have to strip away all of your power including your core beliefs in order to rebuild your true healthy self. I am still understanding that true power is perhaps being able to admit that you feel powerless within certain aspects of your life. True power is opening up about your suffering and reaching out for help. 'The ultimate human freedom; the power to choose, to respond, to change'.

Kindness Is Everything

Mental hospital taught me that there is no greater connector and soul bearer than pain. 'If I tell these private thoughts of mine, it is because I know they are not mine alone, and that practically everyone is trying to say the same things and that the writer is only a man who says out loud what other people think or whisper.' Sitting down for dinner with the six other patients on the eating disorder ward taught me how pain transcends all genders, ages, ethnicities and people. We all had different stories, different backgrounds, different lives yet one thing connected each and every one of us; we were each in turmoil, we all used food and our bodies as a way of escaping our inner pain and we were all fighting really really hard. I now believe that suffering supersedes all outward projections and inner beliefs. When I found myself being held by a lady 30 years older than me as I cried because the nurse had poured my milk just slightly above the required line, I finally felt understood and accepted. She understood the thoughts, the pain and the irrationality of the eating disordered voices; she had the exact same monster in her mind telling her the exact same things. We were so different yet so exactly the same. We would later spend the next five months being each other's daily cheerleaders as we came across challenges like a horrific St Patrick's day dessert that only we will ever understand and still giggle about to this day heheh...(long story including screaming at nurses and disgusting green (?!?) cream). I learned that pain strips back all outer facades and reveals the true vulnerable, scared yet sacred soul beneath. Whether you are rich or poor, black or white, young or old...we all have pain and we all endure suffering. How refreshing and reassuring to know that you are not alone.

Vulnerability Is Courage

Mental hospital taught me that you have to open your hands if you want to be held. We all just want to feel connection, acceptance and love but how can we let someone touch our heart if we have built up impermeable walls around it? Vulnerability is terrifying, allowing ourselves to be seen as our true messy and unique selves is scary. Even finding the willingness to say 'I love you' first without any guarantee of a return is terrifying, however, such vulnerability is the only key that unlocks the gate to pure love and heavenly happiness. 'What happens when we open our hearts? We get better.'

Mental Monsters

Mental hospital taught me that mental monsters are real. Perhaps the greatest crux of all mental illness' is the resolute belief in the sufferer that there is no illness at all, that we are all perfectly ok. I don't think I ever believed I would write this but...I escaped from a mental hospital heheh. It sounds like something you would see on an advert for a horror movie...it's true but not as dramatic as it sounds I promise! This incident helped me to somewhat understand and believe the seriousness of this illness. During my second admission I wasn't allowed to leave the ward without a wheelchair in the beginning. On my second night I felt so guilty, I needed to walk, I had to burn calories and so I ran for the hills. I bundled up in layers of jackets, covered my face and sneaked past the nursing station. I crept through the winding corridors and ran out the gates into the freezing February evening. I kept going and going until my rational mind decided to finally kick in and I realised just how much trouble I was going to get myself into as well as the risk I was putting my body at. This moment helped awaken me to the sheer power and threat of the monsters in our minds! The illness didn't care that my biggest values in life are kindness and honesty; it made me hide crusts up my sleeves, scrape custard under my nails and scream at poor dieticians who were only trying to help me. Mental hospital proved to teach me that mental monsters are not quirks or ways of being; they are infectious vicious weeds that will poison and contaminate each and every part of you, willing to do anything to survive and hold you under their thumb.

Simple Is Sweet

Mental hospital taught me how to truly love and appreciate the simple things in life. No gift, holiday or amount of money could measure up to the joy of waiting by the window and finally seeing your parents driving in the hospital gates on a Friday night or a message from a friend asking how you are doing or feeling the wind brushing through your hair after not being allowed to leave your ward for so long or snuggling up in bed reading your favourite book or watching the cherry trees coming into full bloom in Spring. I learned that these are the true jewels in life. There is beauty in simplicity. Today please try to appreciate the small treasures that surround you. 'The earth has music for those who listen'.

You Are Transforming

Mental hospital taught me that to suffer is to grow, to unfold, to bloom. 'Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a beautiful butterfly'. When you alter your perspective, suffering can be viewed as a beautiful transformation, a form of metamorphism. I learned more about myself as a human being during my time in hospital than I have ever at any time before. I learned that I can be strong, I can endure pain and I can survive a lot more than I ever thought; and so can you, it's our fearful minds that make us believe we can not! 'Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.'

It's Up To You

Mental hospital taught me that nobody can save you from your pain, it's up to you. I learned this after being discharged from the adolescent ward; my favourite nurse held my hand as she said she was sorry for not being able to help me enough. She could see through the facades of fake happiness and knew I was falling hard and fast down the dark hole of relapse weeks before I had even left. Six months later when I met her on the corridors of the adult hospital she hugged me and kissed words upon my soul that were simultaneously earth shattering and liberating; 'You didn't choose to get this illness, but unfortunately and also fortunately Lauren, you are the only person who can choose to fight it and get better...it is all ultimately up to you'.