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.