CAMHS

I saw this picture on Facebook yesterday. I was initially like 'HOORAY I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH THIS OPINION' and found it funny... then I realised that nearly 8000 people had 'liked' the original photo. 1300 people had shared it. Hundreds of people had commented, tagging their friends.

Then suddenly it was not funny anymore. My heart broke. I've always been fairly open about how shocking my experience with finding help for my mental illnesses has been and I have made it no secret how appalling my CAMHS experience was. Turns out, all these people feel the same way.

1 in 10 children and young people will have a diagnosable mental health condition. 850,000 children and young people between the ages of 5-16 have a mental disorder. More than half of adults with mental health problems had been diagnosed during their childhood. Shockingly, less than half of these people were treated appropriately in their childhood.

Now, lets assume that some of these adults had been seen by the so called professionals.. CAMHS earlier on in life. Less than half of them received appropriate treatment. Does that not mean less than half of people who unfortunately end up in the system are not receiving the treatment they need. Assuming those 850,000 young people with a mental disorder have been or are being seen by the variety of doctors, therapists and psychs at CAMHS. More than 425,000 of them will still be suffering in their adulthood. More than 212,500 of those will not have had the right treatment during childhood.

Imagine that those 212,500 people had received appropriate treatment. Would they still be suffering now? Some of them, maybe. Others, probably not. If more funding was put into CAMHS so they could actually help, instead of do well, nothing. Would not the demand on the adult mental health services be less?

I have been waiting 7 months for Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. The only 'help' I am receiving is an appointment every 6 weeks just to check i'm not about to top myself. I am one of those hundreds of thousands of people who did not receive appropriate treatment. Had I of got the right help, would I still be worming my way through waiting lists today?

It is scary how many people are being failed by the system.

Faith isn't in a blade.

It has been such a long time since I have posted that I think I may have forgotten how to write a post.
However, I will do my best to write in English and not to bore everybody too much. To be honest I think I have only decided to write this now because i'm procrastinating (I hate homework).

Since my last post in June (Seriously... 5 months Lydia? Get your act together) a lot has happened. Most of you will know that I jetted off to South Africa for 7 weeks, there were days where I wanted nothing but to come home and days where the thought of going home made me cry. The good definitely outweighed the bad though.

I was not eating much and when possible I would skip meals or eat a portion of food equivalent to that of a weaning baby. I would purposely not take my medication so large meals would quickly find their way into the toilet because my re-flux was not being controlled.  I was hoarding razor blades because when my mind was a mess it was easier to put my faith in a blade than in God.

 I received prayer, lots of it, and things began to change.

My minute portion of food changed into eating a large portion (in public!) without every mouthful feeling like a failure and for once I saw the food instead of just the calories. There was no desire to punish myself for something that most humans do without batting an eyelid. Food for the first time in my life wasn't a fear and eating was no longer a challenge. The scales no longer control my life because I am worth more than a number. I am a child of God, the apple of his eye and I wasn't designed to spend my life worshiping a cold piece of glass instead of my Father.

I stopped putting my faith in things that could tear apart my skin and started to put my faith in Him. The sharp bits of metal were no longer a safety blanket to run to when my mind was telling my to hurt myself, I deserve it. Instead I ran to God and let him take control. Now the only weapon I keep close to me is the sword of the spirit.

Life is worth living with Jesus in it. Don't get wrong not everything's perfect and some days I want to give up but instead of turning to food abuse and blades I turn to God as my refuge, my strength. Rock bottom is where I discovered that Jesus is my rock and the solid foundation in which he provides is the very same foundation where I have built my new life.

A life where self harm is no more a daily occurrence and eating finally is. A life with God in the driving seat instead of me pushing him into the back seat. A life that I am excited to be living.

                          (Thank you to those who prayed for/with me, you are fabulous)

Dear depression

Dear Depression,

I don't know why you decided to become apart of my life, you've been part of my for several years now and this has been a hard decision to make... But, I think it's time for us to part., it's not me, it's you.

For a long time the idea of losing you has actually been quite a scary one but only because I wasn't sure who I would be without you. I got so used to you hanging around that leading a normal life just seemed an impossibility. In fact you've been around longer than  near enough anything else in my life. You were loyal and stuck to me like glue. But it's time for me to break the bond between us.

It's a bit like when a person drinks too much of a certain alcohol and it makes them sick so they can't even bare the thought of it anymore. Or like that time I binged on bakewell Nakd bars and now even looking at them makes me feel slightly ill. You have so much of something that the thought of it is no longer  pleasant one.. You were never a pleasant thought, but it's kind of the same thing, I've had my fill of you and no longer can deal with your presence

You took over every aspect of my life, you made me push away my friends, hate myself, feel worthless and made me question whether my life was even worth living. You might of been loyal but you certainly haven't been a friends. I am bored of listening to your constant negativity, Telling me i'm not good enough or how everything is my fault, making me actually quite selfish (Someones in a grump? Must be because of me. People I don't even know are whispering? Must be bitching about me. Someone is crying? Must be something I have said or I have done) but not everything is about me, why would you even want me to think that?

You kept up at night with panic attacks and endless tears for reasons that seemed so small. Or like tonight for no reason at all, just a crippling wave of sadness that causes my tears to pour and my chest to hurt and hurting myself seem lie a completely logical thing to do (Thankfully, I manage to block out the hurting bit, you've scarred me enough).

I can't even pretend that I m grateful for having known you, you've been nothing but trouble. You've made me lonely, insecure and afraid. And while over the past few weeks you've been trying to tighten your grip, it really is time for you to let go.

I can not bare the thought of having to live the rest of my life with you in it, so please do me a favor. Fuck off Give me my life back. I'm done with just existing, it's time to live.

Sincerely
Lydia.

People Intolorent

If you have ever had a conversation with me you have probably heard me say the words "I hate people" if you haven't heard me say it, you're probably one of those 'people'. Okay the hate part is probably a bit strong, but I do dislike the human race as a general rule.

The noises people make as they eat or drink or breathe make me want to sew their mouths shut, when people talk to me I find it hard not to make sarcastic or rude comments which cause way toooooo much offence even though I am really 'joking'. When people question what I am doing as if I am a five year old and not an adult (really i do not have to justify my every move) I have a sudden desire to throw something at them - a bowling ball would be good. (Thankfully I haven't actually thrown anything yet..)

People irritate me to say the least and if I reply to your messages, answer the phone to you or can hold down a 2 minute conversation with you, you should feel honored. People Are not my thing and at the moment avoiding them is what I do best, I switched to job which involved less people, I don't make the effort talk to any of my 'friends' and reading messages is a rare thing, let alone replying. I rarely answer the door and even saying 'hello' to people in person has become a struggle.

Truth is though, I don't hate people. I am fascinated by people. But I don't want them to need me, or like me or get too close. I don't need more than maybe the 5 people that I actually talk to on a regular basis. I think this is caused mainly by my depression and started when I was suicidal, pushing people away was the easiest thing to do, nobody would be sad if I killed myself if I had no friends.

I think I don't make the effort to make new 'friends' or have much of a social life because I am scared of getting hurt, again. This probably stems from the sexual assault and years of violence, nobody can hurt me if I never see or speak to anybody, right? And nobody could give me the old "I'll always be here for you" then get fed up with me causing me to have nobody to turn to in the times of need.

But actually, despite all this I long for human interaction. Because just like I couldn't live without food I am struggling to live without people I have stopped making the effort and it's having a negative impact on my mental health.

People are an important part of recovery and avoiding them isn't doing me any favors,

Reevaluate

Around this time a year ago I wrote THIS post. And I am just going to edit it slightly. the 2014 post will be in GREEN and this years version will be in black. This time last year I was a stone lighter and lot more miserable.

I leave for Africa in 36 days. 51,840 minutes. 3,110,400 seconds. 864 hours. In that time I will attend college 5 times, spend 20 days at work, go on one trip to Gardeners World Live and go for a jog maybe, twice?

I leave for Africa in 33 days. 47,520 minutes. 2,851,200 seconds. 792 hours. In that time I will spend maybe 14 days at work, attend maybe 5 appointments, go no where exciting and exercise maybe 33 times (If i feel like it)

While I sit here trawling the internet on various clothing websites trying to find clothes and swimming costumes to take with me my heart breaks. I click on the 'swimwear' section and stare at the teeny-tiny models with incy-wincy waists. "Why don't I look like that?"  Perhaps I'll sleep instead of go into any pools at buffelspoort... Bikinis that show off my flabby stomach and swimming costumes that still don't hide the layers of blubber that covers my body just aren't for me.

While I sit here having already looked at a million different clothing websites I don't even bother to click on swimwear because nowhere sells a 28 back bikini (Apart from like bravissimo, hooray for bravissimo). However, I still question why I do not look like the models - oh yes, because I am human. I now own a bikini that will show off my flabby stomach (That will hopefully be toned by the time it comes to wearing it). I shouldn't feel like I have to hide my body, if anybody is judging me for what I look like then they have too much time on their hands.

But I still need clothes that I'm not going to boil in while in the African sun.. Skirts, shorts, dresses... I find several that I like, being modeled on match-stick legs with a gap the size of a car separating their thighs. "They're nice, but only if my legs looked like that" I stare at my thighs in the reflection of the mirror. It's normal for thighs to touch but when it's my body it's repulsive. My thighs are wide and keep getting wider. Perhaps I'll wear pajamas the whole time.

I still need clothes that I am not going to boil in while in the really beautiful African sun... There are several items that I like being modeled on match-stick legs with a thigh gap the size of a car. My legs will never looks like that and guess what, I do not give a shit. I spend 99% of my time hiding my entire body from the world under six million layers, I don't need to do that in South Africa to. My thighs touching isn't the end of the world.

It's hard to look forward to things when you don't like how you look. Don't get me wrong, I am super-duper excited to go to Africa I've never been this excited for anything, ever. But the insecurities and anxieties are already beginning to bubble inside of me. Whatifnobodylikesme, theyareallgoingtolaughatmebecauseimfat, howamigoingtogetawaywithnoteating, imgoingtobetheugliestpersonthere,iamfatfatfatfatfatfatfat, illnevergetskinnyin36days...

It's still hard to look forward to things because I don't like how I look. But I am still super-duper excited (Kind of) to go back to South Africa and I've bee this excited once before and even though the insecurities and anxieties are bubbling away inside of me I will not let them win.
I know that people like me. Nobody laughed at me before and if they laugh at me now then the problem is with them not me. I don't need to get away with not eating, i need to eat healthily. I am fat but i'm working on it. I don't need to get skinny I need to tone up.

What's more important to me recovery or a 'bikini body'? 

The answer to that one is simple, recovery. A 'bikini body' isn't a necessity just an added bonus.  

Do and don't of dealing with depression

Having been depressed for what seems like a very long time with lots of ups and lots of downs and lots of medication and appointments and scars and tears it is only recently that I have first hand experience of living with somebody else who is depressed.

I did not realize how exhausting it can be to feel like you're walking on eggshells all the time, scared of saying or doing something that might lower their mood. (Obviously this is only true if you care about that person, if you live with a depressed person and you're not scared about upsetting them you're either brave of stupid, can't decide).

But knowing what it's like to both have depression and live with a depressed person I thought i'd share some Do's and Don't of the mistakes that I have learnt not to make again and the things that others have done to help me.

DON'TS
Do not be afraid to ask how they are feeling. Sometimes the answer they give isn't what we want to hear but we can't avoid asking how they are it makes them feel like nobody really cares.

Do not tell them they're 'lucky' and that 'others have it worse'. If you tell them others have it worse so they shouldn't be depressed, I hope they punch you in the face and tell you you can't be happy because others have it better. (See there's no logic in that!). Telling them how fortunate they are to have a good job/nice house/ loving family/food on the table/supportive friends/flashy car is not useful even the luckiest person in the world could be suffering, because depression isn't about what you do and do not have it's a mental turmoil that strangely enough a flashy car and a nice house can not fix.

Do not forget to look after yourself to. As i've already said it can be exhausting when you care about somebody who is depressed make sure you also find time to do the things you enjoy, your health and well being is equally as important as theirs.

Do not question why they are crying. They might just be having a bad day for no apparent reason or the smallest thing might have set them off, you can ask what's bothering them but if they don't want to tell you don't pry. Don't tell them they're silly for crying over something that doesn't seem like a big deal to you. Don't tell them not to cry or make them feel stupid for crying. Just pass them a tissue and if they wan't to talk, listen.

Do not get mad/take it personally. I know it's frustrating when you ask them to do something or invite them somewhere and they don't do it or cancel plans last minute. But getting mad isn't the answer, they can not help the way the feel and sometimes doing anything is psychically and mentally too much. Some days all they will do is breathe and that is okay. If they snap at you don't take it personally and never think their illness is you're fault, controlling their emotions isn't something that comes easily. If they cancel plans or don't want to go somewhere with you, it isn't because they dislike you or don't want to be seen with you. Leaving the house can seem like the most challenging thing for them.

Do not ask why their depressed. It's an illness, it happens. I hate to make this comparison but it's like asking a cancer patient why they have cancer or somebody who had a heart attack why they had a heart attack. Let's treat mental illness the same way you would a physical one.


DOS
Do listen without judging them. Sometimes the best and the only thing we can do is listen to at they have to say, without offering a 'solution'. Listening and showing that you are listening can be a massive thing, it shows you care. They might say something you believe is totally crazy but don't judge them for it (At least not out loud..)

Do nice things. My favorite people that have helped me through the difficult times are the ones who've randomly done kind things. (The people that would randomly give me chocolate, yum) or would just offer to do something for me reminded me that actually, I do have friends and people who care. It doesn't mean buying them things, sitting with them, spending time with them, doing something with them you know they enjoy, turning up with chocolate...

Do remember you can not fix them. Frustrating, i know. But you can't fix broken people the same way you'd fix a broken ornament, no amount of glue is going to hold them together. You can not magically heal them, you can how ever pray for them and encourage them to seek treatment if they have not already.

Do contact relevant people in times of need. If you are incredibly concerned about what they have said or done it is okay to contact people, they might dislike you for it in the moment but eventually they will thank you. (Eg, if you suspect they've overdosed or self harmed really badly call an ambulance. If you think they might be suicidal contact the crisis team. if you think they need lots of TLC and you don't think you have the time or energy to do it on that occasion contact one of their friends or family members).

Do ask them what you can do to help. Knowing what to do when somebody is depressed isn't a skill you can magically develop. Ask them what they think will help, what they would like to do or if there is anything you can do for them. If you don't ask, you'll never know.

Do give them space.  If they tell you to leave them alone sometimes that is when they need you most but don't suffocate them, give them time and space to themselves if that means they're going to sit and cry for 3 hours straight that's okay, let them, you don't need to be with them every minute or every day. If you're concerned they're going to hurt themselves while you're gone you are not accountable for their actions, you also need time and space for yourself and again, if you fear they may be suicidal contact the crisis team, you shouldn't try and deal with that on your own.

Start a revolution, Stop hating your body!

As summer approaches it's easy to focus on our wobbly bits - jiggly thighs, bulging stomachs and bums that just can not compete with Kim Kardashians. We spend too much time focusing on the bits of us we hate so then we hate ourselves. Maybe if we focused on the stuff we liked we'd like ourselves more. After all you can't look after something you hate so it's time to start liking ourselves.

So i've asked all sorts of people what they like about their bodies and why. These were males/females, old/young, tall/short, underweight/overweight/anywhereinbetweenweight and here's what the replies were..

I like ...

My Eyes (They're a really nice shade of green)
My Collar bones
My Broad shoulders
My smile
My Hair (It's the easiest thing I can change)
My boobs
How strong my body is, It's carried a baby, it can do anything!
My legs (They can run really fast)
That I am Hench
my eyes (they're green and that's my favorite colour)
The shape of my lips
My bump
The muscles on my arms
My hip bones
My eyebrows (They're on point)
My bottom (I worked hard to get it!)
My hands (they can do so much)
My eyes (because they're unique an people always point them out - they're my best feature)

Your body is an amazing thing. A beautiful thing. There is more to your body than whether it's a 'summer body' or not. Learn to love it.

START A REVOLUTION, STOP HATING YOUR BODY.


do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God?

Thank you!

A lot of the time I feel like i'm writing jumbled words and messy thoughts that nobody is really interested in.

But after now having way over 6000 views all over the world (Might not seem like a lot, but that's more than I ever thought i'd get!) I'd like to thank the people who actually read the rubbish I write.

I've received a few nice messages over the past couple of weeks and I really want to everyone to know how much I appreciate everyone's support!

"Hey I doubt you remember me - I just read some of your blog posts. You're an amazing writer and so inspirational. SO brave for sharing your stories.
Keep going with them, you should be so proud of yourself
Sorry if this was random x"


"Hey, you won't know me or at least remember me  - But just wanted you to know that I read your blog and have done for about a year and the messages and information you're putting out there is really helping people"


"Hi, I'm sorry if this a weird thing to say but I just want to thank you for your blog, it's nice to know that I am not alone and your blog has helped me more than you realise, Thankyou"
So thank you, dearest readers for actually expressing an interest and taking the time to read my blog. It means a lot.

If there is anything you guys would like me to write about then pretty please let me know, otherwise i'm going to stick to writing whatever crap pops into my head. 
You can let me know via facebook, or comment on this or any of my posts (You can do this anonymously).

You're all fab!
xxxxxxx

Dear parents

Dear parents,

They've got your child. They don't want to give them beck. They're doing their best to get them away from you, push you away, convince him/her that you do not care, that you're terrible.

They're going to harm your child and your child will cooperate without hesitation. They're going to make them do things that will break your heart and fill your eyes with tears. They're trying to kill your child. 

You're blissfully unaware because you're child is still at home looking fine, acting a bit strange at times. But the people that have your child are at home with you. They're with him/her 24/7, there is no escaping it, your child is trapped.

Instagram, tumblr, pinterest. Harmless, so they seem. But there is an entire population of people there who are harming themselves and dragging your child into their own self-destruction. A secret world full of "Pro-Anorexics/Bulimics/depressives/selfharmers/relapse"

Promoting mental illness, making it look glamorous. Encouraging your child to cut and binge and starve and hate themselves. Encouraging them to lose weight, lose friends, lose their lives. Competing to see who can get skinniest quickest and fast for the longest, who can cut the deepest, keep it secret for longest.

You might think you know your child, their accounts, that they're fine. But with increasing number of these accounts where you can see young boys and girls document there food intake, thought process and even picture of their self mutilation you can never be to sure.

They've given serious mental illnesses pet name in order to talk about them in such away that loved ones won't find out what's going on if they over hear any conversations.. So if you hear your child talking about any of these then it might be time to start asking questions

Each has a name for boys and a name for girls..

Ana/Rex (Anorexia). Mia/Bill (Bulimia). Perry/Pat (Paranoia). Annie/Max (Anxiety). Olive/Owen (OCD). Sue/Dallas (Suicidal). Deb/Dan (depression). Cat/Sam (Self Harm). Ellie/Ed (EDNOS)

And that is to name but a few.

 Beware parents, they've got your children.

What are those?

I get asked the same question probably 3 million times a year (Slight exaggeration). I never know how to respond, and I always want to bury my head in shame. It isn't often I walk around with short sleeves on, but I like to wear skirts and shorts and sometimes t-shirts that aren't all the way up to my neck. So chances are if i'm not covered from head to toe and something more than my face is showing than scars will be showing to.

So I am forever being asked "What are those?, How did you get them? What happened to you?"
And I think I give a different answer to every single person that asks, usually something sarcastic or something only a 5 year old would believe..

• When I was in Africa I got attacked by a Lion cub
• I fell in a thorn bush when I was little and the scars just never faded
• Stretch Marks 
• I have a cat that hates me
• Aliens abducted me and took bits of my skin so they could disguise themselves and take over earth
• I got dropped into a pile of shredded paper as a baby
• When I was doing catering I got into a serious knife fight
• I was born with hundreds of birthmarks
• My chainsaw malfunctioned, and well, needless to say I never used it again.
• I went skydiving and their was a freak wind and we landed in bin full of broken glass
• This one time, when I was really really drunk, i thought it would be funny to try and walk through a glass door... it shattered, so did my pride.
• When I was in neverland Captain hook and I were playing tig, and well... 
• S&M...

Eventually though, I will be able to answer by saying... "I used to self harm, but I'm better now"
And I long for the day when that no longer embarrasses me, when walking around in weather appropriate clothes during the summer is an option.

Fat families.

It's no secret that over half of my family (Including the extended bits) are fat. (Sorry guys, someone had to say it..) And as far as I'm concerned always have been. I often get told i'm not a 'true Brown' because my BMI isn't one that's in the 'overweight' section.

I'm not saying being fat is a bad thing, if you enjoy food go ahead, eat it until you pop. If your clothes size doesn't bother you and you don't let it define you then XXXL means nothing. If you are happy with a bit of extra padding then don't let anyone tell you you need to change.

But as for me, and my small proportion of the Brown family it seems like weight is a war on both ends of the scale. The battle of the bulge and the battle for bones.  We all share the same love of food. Infact we probably love food more than we love eachother, but hating ourselves/trying to change ourselves is something we probably all have in common.

And it's only been the past few day's i've realized this. We all torture ourselves first thing in the morning to step on the scale praying and hoping it will show a number less than yesterdays.

When I was close to my lowest weight the scales got hidden. Nobody used them while I was home in fear I'd find out their hiding place (Behind the freezer - I found them a few hours after they were hidden but sssshhh). Obviously they knew I had because they eventually moved to behind the sofa. This was done in an attempt to stop me weighing myself at least 10 times a day. Morning, mid morning, after a wee, after exercise, lunch time, after every time I used the toilet, mid afternoon, before I ate, after I ate, before I purged, after I purged, before bed, if I woke up in the night.

The number on the scale controlled my every thought, my mood, my decisions, my life. If I couldn't hop on the scale I'd hop on the wii fit and use that scale instead. Every time I visited someone elses house i'd go and use their scale.

These days I'm not quite as bad. I weigh myself at least once a day. (They recommend once a week...). But I am not the only one. My father hops on and off the scale every single day. My brother maybe twice a day. My sister every time she's here and she's just bought her own for her house. My mum every now and then. But we all do the same thing.

We all feel disappointed when the inanimate object projects a higher number than the previous time. We all feel a sense of achievement when the inanimate object shows a smaller number. We let the number control our actions for the day.

"I need to cut down again today the scale says I've gained X lbs"
"I've lost another X lbs, If I carry on eating well I'll be at Xstones in no time"
"I've gained X lbs, I need to do something about my weight"
"I can't have any chocolate today"
"I need to eat more vegetables and I might actually lost the X lbs I need to"
Or if you're me "If I weight more than X stone I will fxxking cut myself"

It's unhealthy that each of us let this block of glass define our mood, our meal choices, whether or not we're going to exercise.

We're all different weights in our family unit, ranging from Below 8 stone right up until the 20somethings. But we are all obsessed. We are al fighting the same battles against our bodies. We all share the desire to lose weight. We are all an 'unhealthy' weight. But why should we let that control us?

The number on the inanimate object does not define your worth.

Anti-human tablets.

I have recently started a new course of anti-depressants. I'm going to use the term 'Anti-depressant' lightly, because chocolate works better than these things. (And that's coming from someone with an eating disorder...)

I've taken 3 different types of anti-depressants, and the one i'm on currently they've tried to shove down my throat before - they didn't work. So here they are starting me up on a stronger dose of placebo.

But they do no work, they will not work and no matter how much people tell me to give them a chance they will not change anything.

A tablet isn't going to make me forget the sexual assaults. A tablet isn't going to suddenly trust people and have new found love for people I don't know. A tablet isn't going to get rid of my crippling fear of people. A tablet isn't going to take away the pain and the hurt. A tablet isn't going to make me suddenly love myself. A tablet isn't going to make it feel like i'm at home in my own house. A tablet isn't going to take away the scars that remind of everything that's ever been wrong. A tablet will not make me forget harsh words that cut deeper than blades ever did.

What it will do however is make me feel less human than I already do. Suck the life out of me, make me jittery, make me throw up because i've been told to take them on an empty-stomach when the leaflet says clearly not to. Make me sleep during the day because if I want to be dead I might as well just sleep, it's the same thing really but without the commitment. Make me teary and achey and tired. They have not however taken away the depression.

I long to feel human again. I want to have the ability to leave the house (or even my bedroom) without it taking as much effort as climbing mount everest. I wan't to be able to go out with friends but I push them all away because handling me on anti-depressants it worse than putting up with just the depression. I wan't to do things normal people do like go out for meals and leave the house without needing somebody for support. I want to be able to walk around with my head held high rather than wanting to bury it under the concrete I walk on.

I wan't these tablets to actually work. I wan't to be okay.

Letting go

This whole recovery thing is harder than I thought. In fact it would be so much easier to just carry on the path of self-destruct, why change the habit of a life time?

3 meals a day is disgusting and I can't stop engaging in disordered behaviors. I was a fool to think I could.

Attempting to recover feels like losing a best friend. The only thing that has been with me constantly for the past 9 years is my eating disorder. So it's loyal, right? The grooming, the abuse, in sickness and in health, in South Africa, during my exams the only thing that has been with me through all that is my eating disorder. What do I turn to in times of need or desperation or when I am lacking control, my eating disorder and it hasn't left me yet, so why should I leave it now?

I have spent years leaning the calorie contents in different foods, I spend my entire life thinking about what I am and what I am not going to eat, trying to convince myself i'm not hungry the bingeing when the opportunity arises. If I give up on my eating disorder now, what will I think about? What will I do?

This whole 'six pack' thing, do I really want one? Or do I just want an excuse to exercise.

People are talking to me like I'm already recovered and that scares me. I'm not recovered, not yet. I can't let go.

"Do you remember when you went on an 'egg diet'?"
"Remember how slowly you used to eat, it took you an hour to eat a fairy cake!"
"You only did your charity bike ride as an excuse to over-exercise, remember?"`
The worst one by far though is "I'm proud of you"
Proud of what? I am exactly the same just a little bit fatter. I'm exactly the same but a little more social. I'm exactly the same insecure, fat, failure that I always have been,

I can't escape it. I can't, I can't, I can't.

Change is going to happen.

I have neglected my blog, which probably isn't a bad thing, people stopped reading and my posts got repetitive.

There has been a few minor changes in my life recently. So let me quickly tell you what they are before I proceed. I now have an iPhone and have finally let go of my ancient blackberry, r.i.p.
I have gone the longest I ever have without cutting myself, go Lydia!!!  Oh and I have a new ob which I have a love-hate relationship with. I also have a nice long holiday to South Africa booked, remember how scared I was before? Now I am excited!!

I have had loads of goals/achievements in mind that have both been put their quite by accident and shoved in there by other people, but the one I'm most excited to tell you about (which is also the biggest change) is....

Recovery.

I always liked to pretend i was recovered/recovering but in reality I was far from it. I had unhealthy thoughts and an unhealthy relationship with food. My goal weight was 'Emaciated' And now it's 'Six Pack'. Even when I was 'Recovering' what that really meant was eat but enough to still drop down to 7stone. It's no longer that. I am genuinely for the first time in my life determined to be healthy.

I've started exercising not because I want to burn calories but because I feel good afterwards, because I want toned abs and nice thighs, because strong is the new skinny and sore is the new sexy.

I'm starting to work on my relationship with food and my relationship with the scales has changed. Instead of weighing myself 4/5/6 times a day I can now go wait for.. TWO days without weighing myself. - This might not seem like a lot but for me this is a massive things.

I don't need to self harm because actually i'd rather push myself harder in my workouts and feel sore then cut myself and be scarred.

And I think instead of repeating myself with what I say in my blog posts, I am probably going to for the most part blog about my road to recovery, the good the bad the ugly.

But I can not wait for the day I get to tell everybody that I have a six pack - wooo!

Watch this space - If you wan't to...

Fuck you anorexia, i'm taking my life back!

I cant sleep.

I wish I knew why things suddenly seem so difficult. Things are supposed to be good aren't they? When you're a healthy weight and only work 3 days a week and get to feed ducks as and when you feel like it.

But for some reason they aren't. Everything is hard. Breathing, eating, sleeping, talking, moving.

My love hate relationship with recovery has taken a dive to the 'Hate' end of the scale. I can't think about anything other than losing weight and today for the first time in a long time I felt guilty for sitting down. Standing up burns more calories, if I had to sit it couldn't be still, i had to wiggle and fidget and tap and do anything I could to burn calories. I wish I knew why I'm losing control.

And have you ever sat in a room full of people and realized how lonely you are? Okay this one I get all the time. It's because i'm awkward. People and I, just don't mix. If I can actually hold down a conversation or even say 'Hello' to a person (And make eye contact for that second) I am doing well. It's lonely when you can't talk to people, when the fear or saying something wrong or sounding stupid physically stops you from being able to speak. It's horrible knowing that I'm different to everyone else. My fear of people is actually ridiculous, At church on Sunday I couldn't even go and be prayed for (something that I only ever managed to do in Africa) because I was scared of people seeing me, judging me, asking me questions. It's horrible.

I used to sleep all the time, it stopped me thinking, stopped me eating. But now falling asleep at night is pretty much impossible. I spend hours and hours lying in bed but can't sleep because my brain will not switch off because my thoughts are going at 600MPH. WhatshouldIeattomorrow/whatifihatemynewjob/whatifeveryonehatesme/iwonderhowmuchweightidloseif/oooohshiny/ishouldbeasleep/ivegotsofat/iwonderificanstilldoacartwheel/iwonderwhatiddoifieversathepersonwhoassaultedme/twinkletwinklelittlestar. It's almost like I have no control over my thoughts anymore and that freaks me out.

I wish I was normal.

Good thing im not a politician.

Dear Chris White,

You probably don't remember me, but you have the link to my blog, which you've probably never read. I met you in 2013 Lillington Youth Centre and it was clear that your understanding of mental illness was slim to nothing.

As I spoke to you I think you compared my depression to when you were at school at felt like you wasn't clever enough (or something along those lines...), I expressed my concerns about how the mental health system is actually appalling and it breaks my heart that if anything it's getting worse in Warwickshire.

I know people have phoned your office to talk about the current problem of the Crisis accommodation in Leamington closing and your staff  have been nothing but rude. So here I am, writing to you via my blog that is viewed world wide and get's hundreds of viewers each time I post, so here's hoping when I send you this link, you'll be one of them).

Nick Clegg (Yes, I know he's not Conservative but is in joint coalition..) has called for a 'New Ambition of Zero Suicides across the NHS' But that would be making the impossible, possible. Despite being God's son even you can not perform such a miraculous thing, even in someone as small as lemington. Especially when the help available for Mental Health in Warwickshire is being made unavailable.

Assuming you have never suffered the grasp of a mental illness than you will never understand what those of us who do suffer have to go through on a daily basis.  While I personally have not used the Crisis accommodation but have exhausted all other "Services" (I use that term lightly as My experience has been quite frankly, disgusting...) relatives of mine have so I'll add there words in...

"The crisis house, based in Leamington Spa, is run by the charity Rethink who are a nationwide mental health charity.  Rethink are currently supported to deliver this facility with funding from the NHS but this critical funding is to be stopped and the building sold.

There are no plans to open another.

As many as 1 in 4 people suffer mental health problems and this facility both safeguards and protects those most vulnerable when in the deepest depths of despair. Therefore closure will not just be detrimental to the mental stability of those battling mental health conditions but the potential danger to life will be increased. 

The only alternative would be admission to the nearest psychiatric hospital which is already at breaking point being full to capacity. Park House has a significantly faster recovery rate compared to hospital admittance whilst offering a cost saving with beds charged at approximately £60 per bed per night, compared to £360 per bed per night in psychiatric ward.

On a personal level as a service user I give my personal thanks for reading and signing this petition. It is an invaluable service that has made a vast difference in the darkest times of my life. People do not ask for a mental health illness, and it can feel relentless, especially if your diagnosis is long term and non-responsive to medication.  We fight a war every day, often without a voice.

It has given me time to build myself emotionally when fragile and being a non-threatening environment, allowing my children to visit without worrying about its impact.

In conclusion, closure will not only remove patient choice, resulting in unsuitable care, increase in self harm, but inevitably higher suicide rates."

The loss of this service is going to be a disastrous one. I've probably wasted my time writing this because you don't understand mental illnesses, so why would you want to help those suffering?

We spend our lives being invisible and ignored. As if our opinions and need's don't matter, so why would you treat us any differently?

I really hope that you will recognize how important services like these ones are when all the others are so poor.

Sincerely,

Lydia.


(And for anybody interested in signing a petition to stop the closure, Please click HERE)

Deleted.

I made a blog post the other day for 'Time to talk day' and after half an hour I deleted it. The post spoke about mental health, silence, stigma.

I deleted it.
I was scared. Scared of peoples reactions, scared that actually despite blogging about various illnesses for so long that people wouldn't accept me.

I am ashamed. I'm embarrassed that I have a distorted image of my body, and when people laugh when I say about my huge thighs or mangled face I want to the ground to swallow me up. I apparently see myself differently to other people. But it's not funny, when I say something about my body I am being deathly serious, but get turned into a joke.

I am disgusted. I'm embarrassed that I have a weird relationship with food. It breaks my heart when people point out how i'm eating too much or too little but there is no in between. I want to curl up into a ball and hide in a corner when people joke about bingeing and purging. I want to eat everything in sight yet at the same time I want to be empty. I am fighting a battle against my brain because it hates my body. That hurts.

I am scarred. And while I like to pretend that my scars show that I'm still fighting, they make me feel sick. I'm constantly tracing them, counting them (and there's well over 400...), poking, staring. Other people stare and other people ask questions and I die of embarrassment because what on earth would make somebody do that too themselves. The laughs and whispers break my heart and who's ever going to love someone that looks like they got into a fight with Edward scissor hands.

I am frightened. Of everything, people calories, opinions, conversations, reactions. My anxiety stops me from doing things that most normal people do. Going out for meals, going out in general, talking to people, leaving the house without makeup. I worry too much about nothing. It makes me so socially awkward that I'd rather sit in my bed all day than go out and meet people. It's lonely.

But deleting the post and being ashamed aren't going to raise awareness. Deleting the post doesn't change the fact that I am suffering. I am mentally ill, but there is more to me than that. Yes mental illness is a massive part of my life but it's not the only part.

I live for Sundays but Wednesdays are my favorite day. Jesus is pretty much my only friend.  New pajamas make me happy and my bed is the love of my life. I love baking and doing things people don't expect. I miss my unicycle and can walk on stilts. I spend my life waiting for Cirque de Soleil to return to England. I like to pretend i'm a Princess and have two pretend birthdays a year. I make mistakes and rarely learn from them. I either care too much or not at all. I don't think before I speak and often say the wrong things. I like drinking tea and smoking amberleaf. I'm in love with South Africa and can not wait for my return.  I love when people randomly ask if they can pray for me. People freak me out but I also find them fascinating. I love doing things for other people and making people smile. I think I'm hilarious though others disagree. I don't act 18 and like climbing trees. I don't think about the future and think too much about the past. I like getting flowers and making daisy chains. Bacon in the reason i'm no longer vegetarian. I am not my mental illnesses. I shouldn't be ashamed. 

Before and after

Right now my relationship with God is probably more existent than I ever expected it to be. I'm far from being one of those people who can quote the bible word for word and certainly don't act like how people imagine 'Perfect Christians' to be, but I am however for the first time in my life willing to have a relationship with God.

My life since actually wanting to know God has changed more than I actually realized. When half my life has been consumed by depression and disorders all the days blur into one and I don't really notice change unless I sit and think.

Before I knew God my life was pointless. I was accidentally created in some freak-IVF accident where all the eggs took.  I was told I didn't have a soul, couldn't connect with God and that basically meant my existence was pointless. It didn't matter if I lived or died. If I killed myself, it didn't matter, I didn't matter.  So I took advantage of this and tried to kill myself, I prayed to a God I didn't believe in hundreds of times to let me die. I convinced myself that even if I could have a relationship with this pretend God i'd kill myself anyway and beat him at his own game. (Oh Lydia, how strange you were..)

Now, my life has a meaning. I wasn't an accident, I was planned and my life continues to have a plan. God's plan. I can have a relationship with God and my life is precious to him, he made me and he loves me and he sent his son to die for me.

Before I knew God I struggled to see why people would call him a 'Father' A lot of people I know have strained relationships with their father, if they even see them at all. Mine and my dads relationship has been far from a perfect one - don't get me wrong I know I'm lucky to have a dad one that for the most part is actually half decent. But when things are bad they're awful, Screaming, punching, fighting, swearing, ignoring. -  "Why would anybody want TWO dads, one is bad enough?!"

Now I know that a heavenly Father is different too an earthly one. This Father loves me unconditionally, he know's everything I've done wrong he's seen me hurt myself, hurt others, lie and cheat and self-destruct but he doesn't get angry, he doesn't ignore me. He forgives me, he loves me more than I can even imagine. And for me, knowing i'm loved is a massive thing after spending what seems like an eternity convincing myself that nobody does love me, I am unlovable. This Father knows everything about me, don to the number of hairs on my head and I can't even convince myself that he doesn't love me, no matter how hard i've tried to do so.

Before doctors couldn't fix me and I was convinced either I'd kill myself or my Anorexia would kill me, I wouldn't let anyone pray for me because what was the point - If God was real I wouldn't have been sexually assaulted nobody would let that happen to their child. Suffering wouldn't exist and life would be full of happy endings and pixie dust.

Now I'm not so ignorant. And doctors fixing me isn't what's important anymore. God's healing is the important bit and while It can be disappointing when people pray for you, pray a bit more and continue to pray for you and nothings changed I know that God's timing is perfect and it doesn't matter that I haven't been healed overnight.

I can't explain it very well but despite still being ill, still having all the same struggles i've had for years despite thinking absolutely nothing's changed, something is different. I feel different, for the first time in my life I have purpose, I'm loved, I have hope, it's almost like the emptiness inside me is slowly but surely being filled with something great. I'm excited to see what the future holds instead of telling myself I won't live long enough to have a future.

I don't know where I'm going with this or even how to put into words what i'm feeling and im sorry if this makes no sense what so ever.

Then vs. Now

'I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in, but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try and kill the thing on the inside' Girl interrupted.

If you'd of asked  14 year old me what my favorite quote was this would of probably been the response I gave you.

I know what it's like to want to die. I used to pray to a God that I wasn't even sure I believed in begging and pleading that I wouldn't wake in the morning, wishing and hoping that he would make it all stop. He didn't. I'd take matters into my own hands and swallow stupid amounts of pain killers but it never did the trick, i'd wake up excited in the night because i'd dreamed up a new way to kill myself. Now I thank God that I am here and excited to see what his plan for me is. 

How it hurts to smile. Ask 16 year old me when the last time she smiled because she was happy was, she'd tell you she can't remember. Smiling hurt, breathing hurt, everything hurt. Some days smiling still hurts but at church someone said 'Thankyou Lord for making our hearts smile even if our faces don't' (or something like that).. These days I thank God for being the reason that I smile.

How you try to fit in, but you can't. I don't really fit in, anywhere. I'm too awkward. I have maybe 2 friends and at school I used to try desperately to fit into a friendship group (and failed miserably). But I don't need to fit in with a clique to have a friend in Jesus, He loves me for me. 

How you hurt yourself on the outside to try and kill the thing on the inside. I tried everything and everywhere. I am covered head to toe in scars (quite literally, face, neck, ankles.. you name it i've probably cut it). It didn't kill anything, not me, not the things on the inside, it did not work. It left ugly scars that people stare at, that people point at, that they whisper about. But the things inside me just grew and grew. Now I know that actually, the thing on the inside was satans doing and the only thing that can get him out is Jesus, and lots and lots of prayer to him seem's to be doing some good. 

Ask 18 year old me what my favorite quote is and I'll tell you this.
"For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" Romans 10:13

I pray to a God that I know I believe in, that I know is good and bit by bit he is saving me.

Dear you...

Welcome to 2015, i've seen people on facebook talk about suicide and people I love tell me they don't want to live to end of this year. And well guys, this one is for you...

I know things are hard right now, believe me I do. Some days it seems like life is okay and you're content with being alive. Other days, or maybe a few hours later everything feels like it's crashing down. Your life is falling apart, but not at the seems because you can't seem to sew it back together. You're crying so hard that you have to gasp for breath, but as quietly as possible because you don't want people to hear you cry.

You're not sure what is worse being so sad that you want to hurt yourself, or being so sad that you can't physically move to get the knife. It feels like everything is too much the weight of the world is getting heavier and heavier. It feels like you have nothing left to live for.

It feels like nobody loves you, nobody cares and why would they? Because you feel like you're a piece of shit so they must think you are to. You think you want to kill yourself but you don't want to hurt the people that were once 'close' to you. You've gone over your suicide note in your head 50 times and still can't get it right. "I'm sorry" but sorry won't being you back, sorry won't make it better, this isn't accidentally bumping into someone in a supermarket, this is your life.

I know this because I've been there too. I know this because every day I see my scars and am reminded of how I once felt. I know this because the anti-depressants don't work and nothing anyone says or does changes the fact that you feel empty.

But let me tell you somethings you don't know.

Feelings pass, right now you don't think they will but remember that time when you were happy, whether it was last week, yesterday,  years ago or when you were 5. You can feel like that again, and I know you won't believe me now but it's true.

Suicide stops your bad feelings. That's obvious. But it stops the good ones too, you can never feel excited, hopeful, beautiful ever again. And neither will the people who loved you, your bad feelings have just been passsed on to them. I  know you think nobody cares but believe me they do, I do.

Scars are permanent. The knife, razor, lighter, scissors seem like a good idea now, but in ten years time when you've found the love of your life and have children together you're going to have to explain those scars and not everybody understands. 

Chocolate makes it all better (okay this one is purely opinion) and i strongly recommend topdeck but we can't all go to Africa and get it so oreo chocolate would be next in line.

Getting out of bed is worth it. Doesn't seem like it when you've got nothing to get up for, no one to get up for. But believe me, shower, get dressed (do your makeup), and go for a walk, the fresh air does amazing things. But distract yourself from the thoughts while you're at it. Count every red car you see, touch the trees admire their beauty. God created our beautiful surroundings and he created you, go so the world he made for you to live in!

Talking is great. You might not want to talk about it but a 'problem shared is a problem halved' just knowing somebody is listening is a good thing, having someone in your hour of need. If you can't bring yourself to do it, write it down. Tell someone how you feel. Doctors, friends, parents someone you trust. I promise you somebody will listen.

If you or anyone you know is suicidal and you don't know what to do please call any of these..

999 if you think the person is at risk to themselves, has injured themselves or you suspect they have taken an overdose.

0800 11 11. Childline will take calls up until you're 19 years old, they also have a website in which you can talk to someone via a messenger instead. 

08457 90 90 90. The Samaritans take calls 24/7 someone is always there to listen.

0800 068 41 41 Papyrus supports teenagers and young adults who are struggling with suicidal thoughts. 

And heck, if you have my number, text me. 

Things 2014 has taught me

As 2014 has drawn to a close and I have no social life I thought I may as well stay in y pajamas and write a pointless post on things that I have learnt this year. Here goes...

• God is good. For the most part I knew this was true but this year i've felt it more than ever. I've listened to amazing testimonies and watched people's lives change for the better. God has done amazing things for so many people in my life this year and it's been wonderful to see/hear.
• I was born in the wrong country. I fitted in better in South Africa, the food was great and the weather was wonderful and therefor I should of been born there.
• Depression doesn't rule my life. Rewind 18 months and I was spending too much time in bed overthinking things and convincing myself I'd be dead within 12 months. Now, I hold down a a full time job and despite somedays being a struggle breathing doesn't seem like a chore anymore. 
• If someone cares about my weight they don't care about me. That's right, if someone mentions my weight gain despite knowing I've battled with eating disorders they have no place in my life. If my body bothers you, fuck off. 
• Being 18 isn't that great. Everyone's always like ''woo 18, can legally drink lets go smack blah blah blah'' Actually it's no different to being 16 but it's now legal. (Only good thing is I can buy y own fags now!)
• Pajamas are fabulous. I don't need to dress up on a friday night in something uncomfortable to get attention from people I don't know. Nothing beats a long week at work than a bubble bath and cozy pajamas, i love it. 
• I can't please everyone. And even attempting too is just a headache and a mistake. As long as I'm doing what makes me happy that's all that matters. 
• Self care isn't selfish. I am allowed to take care of myself, I am allowed to pray for myself and I am allowed to try to love myself. It doesn't make me selfish I am just important as every other human.
• Meat tastes good. And I am now a part time vegetarian, yum. 
• Everyone has a story. Usually heartbreaking or at very least really interesting. 
• Taking 20 laxatives at a time isn't worth it to 'lose weight'. This one is self explanatory and actually disgusting but that's the reality of an eating disorder. 
• Doctors are shit. I don't need doctors to 'fix me' I need God to heal me.
• I don't need to be afraid of everything. I was scared of going to Africa, that was silly. I spent a lot of time worrying that y house would set on fire, it didn't. I've always been petrified of people i've just met touching me 'cause i sure they're going to hurt me, no one did. 
• Mental illness is often judged by physical criteria. That's shit.
• I need to make time to do things. While working is all well and good I haven't had much opportunity to do what I enjoy, baking, sleeping, getting lost on a long walk to no where, weeding my garden,  and I certainly didn't spend enough time with God. 
• Top Deck. is the best chocolate I have ever tasted and I need it back in my life.
  
  While 2014 hasn't been as good I'd of liked it to be it certainly hasn't been my worst year (How could it be when I got to go to Africa for 6 weeks???) I am so grateful for the handful of people who made this year one of my better ones. Thankyou to the people who have loved me through the hard times and laughed with me in the goodtimes. Here's to (hopefully) a HAPPY 2015.