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!