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.