Cameo « Marine Snow

Cameo

June 10, 2009 at 9:58 pm | In Eating disorders | 24 Comments
Tags: anorexia, bulimia, depression, Eating disorders, mental illness, recovery, relationships

Once, in the beginning, or in the middle of a crazy fall, there was a serenity to be found in my illness, a porcelain facing to the world which reflected all that threatened. Attempts to become an exoskeleton, firmly believing that this showed a special talent, a superhuman strength, resulted in a protection of sorts. But the protection was one born from others concern, others refrain from touching me lest they end up hurting me, and the strength drawn from others misery. Mine was a devil may care attitude about anything other than self destruction, because this made my own path of self destruction make sense, as if it was planned and intentional and invited. No one could hurt me more than I was hurting myself, so I was safe. Nothing mattered but a single set of numbers, energy in, energy out, and mass. Then one day there was a moment when the sunlight hit the mirror, and a true image cast huge on my reality. My life was molded from a pitiful lump of delusion. The unnoticed internal heartbeat of Ana (At least I’m thin, at least I’m thin, at least I’m thin) or Bulimia (Angry: Fuck it, I don’t care, about it, about anything, about myself) wore old and ceased to have a meaning. The words tasted like dirt on my tongue, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling of seeing myself from the outsiders perspective. Lola! Lola! What are you doing to yourself, Lola? It seems that tired old game just holds no logic when you’ve rounded the same circles, walked the same path, and hit the dead end repeatedly. The top of the pyramid shattered, and fell away in a tumble of horror. One day I found myself faced with a situation where I couldn’t brush bad feelings away with a bout of restriction, or an inch off my waist, what was I to do? Well, I…

….went to pieces.

I didn’t go back to bones. I didn’t walk off a bridge. Both were planned when I left this blog hopeless. Starve pointlessly until it hurt too much to breathe, then stop breathing. But it wasn’t to turn out like that. I stumbled and fell on my knees instead. But whilst falling, for once in my stupid, stubborn existence I called out. The tears were no longer silent and hidden in a midnight pillow. They were loud and pained and public. Help me. I pleaded out to my friends. I’m falling and I don’t know how to want to stop. And Ana whispered (they’ll laugh at you, or refuse to help. Why should they help you, traitor. With all that you have done, you expect sympathy, bitch?)

But come they did. And all they asked
Was simply:

What can we do?

Of course there is no single answer to that question, and my response inwardly made a bit of pride wither and die

Please be there for me
(Needy bitch, selfish clingy needy bitch)

And it seems they already were. Waiting, worrying. Fingers to lips and furrowed brows. And it seems my pride was more fear than arrogance.

I feel messy at the moment. Emotional and anxious and sad and happy all in a heady mix. But I’m living my life. It’s not too late, not too much time has past. For sure time has past but before long bad memories will be overlaid with good. There will be anniversaries which do not fill my stomach with dread or leave me gibbering under a vodka duvet. I’m trying new things, throwing caution to the wind. Saying yes despite the nagging sensation that I am OUT OF CONTROL and losing my routine. Every spontaneous gesture gnaws with spiny fangs, but each chomp frees a little tether from a life lived in endless caveats, so it can only be a good thing to feel so afraid. I’m beginning to realise how no one in my life sees me in the same light as I cast myself, and I’m so far out of my comfort zone it’s not even an option to slip back into it. Today I have registered with a houseshare agency to find a new place to live. Tomorrow I have my first dentists appointment in 15 years. I’ve been to see friends and explained, apologised for disappearing. Communicated. I’m back to work carrying my own caseload again. The past few weekends have involved social occasions with new people and food and shopping and staying away from home. I’m living over here, it’s pretty amazing.

That’s not to say all is well, it’s not. Some days have been terrible, horrible days. Days of drumming eating disordered thoughts. Mental body checking, and worrying. I’m too thin, but too fat both at the same time. I’m eating too much and not enough in equal measure. But equally there have been days where an hour or two have flown past and I’ve realised afterwards that there wasn’t a minute I thought of food or weight or dark memories. Like the ghosts grew bored and floated away for a while.

I may even have met someone. Of course I already have a million reasons as to why he’s wrong for me. For a start he sees right through my bravado, which might mean I have to be honest and in that vulnerable. Or worse, be myself. Then where will I hide?

Lola x

24 Comments »

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It’s so good to hear from you lovely Your post has really made me smile. Take one day at a time, keep taking deep breaths, and LIVE. You so deserve it.

Megan xx

Comment by in-the-margins — June 10, 2009 #

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I’m so very very glad for you. And very grateful to the fates or to you, that you are taking care of your self and letting others help.

It’s good to hear your voice again. But if blogging gets in the way of living, if blogging is another way of hiding, please don’t blog.

In the meantime, thanks, Lola, for updating us.
I do love reading you.

Comment by Rebecca — June 10, 2009 #

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It’s good to have a blog post from you. Glad to hear that things are going well. Good luck with the dentist tomorrow.

And as for the guy – seeing through the bravado sounds like a plus point to me!

Take care,
Differently

Comment by differentlysane — June 10, 2009 #

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Hey, it’s Hannah here from POAD, I’ve moved my blog (if you send me your wordpress username I’ll add you so you can read it). It’s really good to hear that things are at least getting better, remember you know where I am if you ever want to talk.

I’m so glad that you asked for help, it was definitely the right thing to do and maybe with this guy, just be honest and see what happens. Letting yourself be vulnerable is really really hard but sometimes it can be worth it and you can’t really have anything proper without it if that makes sense!

I’m sorry things were so horrible, but keep hanging in there. We’re all rooting for you, we know you can get through this, look after yourself x

Comment by findingmecrazy — June 10, 2009 #

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Nice to see you back around Lola and even nicer to know that things are going well. Glad that you’re finally getting to see the dentist as well.

Comment by Laura — June 10, 2009 #

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I want to jump up and down and spin in a circle and shout “you’re back, you’re back, you’re back!”

You probably know I’ve fallen back into old habits and tbh it was a bit too easy. It should’ve been harder but then I guess that just shows that a little bit of weight doesn’t make you better. But here’s me getting all morbid when instead I should be doing all of what I mentioned in my first paragraph.

You can do this. That makes me smile xx

Comment by eccedentesiast — June 10, 2009 #

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Lovely to hear from you Glad you’re hanging in there, sounds like you’re doing fantastically! Hugs xx

Comment by cellar_door — June 10, 2009 #

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Yayyy you posted! Good luck, I hope everything works out and the dentist isn’t too evil. X

Comment by Kate — June 10, 2009 #

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Lola! {{{HUGS}}}

spoonfork

Comment by spoonfork38 — June 10, 2009 #

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Lola, this post made me tear up. Im so happy for you, and missed your writing! To know though that of your absense you were reaching out is beyond words. The way in which you construe your words is so striking and to the core. When I read your posts, I think, “Yes! That’s how I feel/think!” With myself though I often find it hard to articulate my thoughts and feelings out in writing, so reading your entries creates peace in me

Comment by Sarah — June 10, 2009 #

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LOLA! Dear one, you amaze me.
As for the guy who sees through the bravado? Boy, mine, sees through all of my bravado–and that’s just on IM. I don’t get to hide with him. I hate and love him for it, and for all sorts of other things, too. Good to hear from you, really been missing your posts, dearie!
much love,
T

Comment by Tiger — June 10, 2009 #

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Lola, this post made me very emotional. Yes, I have my period, and yes I’m divorcing my husband, but I think this emotion was purely due to the power of your writing. It’s so wonderful to “hear” from you again!! I know it can be extremely scary and also extremely exhilarating to have someone “see through the bravado.” I both long for that and fear it. Keep us posted, ok?

Comment by Kim Hooper — June 11, 2009 #

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Hey, great to hear things are getting positive. Take care, Dx

Comment by abysmal musings — June 11, 2009 #

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Lola! So glad you are back. Another great post. Welcome back! Hope youa re here to stay.

Comment by Cool Polar — June 11, 2009 #

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I was just thinking about you, Miss Snow, and here you are. Still fighting the good fight. You’re astonishing and amazing, and HERE. I’m so happy.

Comment by Lil — June 11, 2009 #

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I’m glad you’re doing better. Keep it up. You deserve to be happy.

Comment by Lucy McGough — June 11, 2009 #

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Was wondering when we’d here from you yesterday actually. Glad you’re back and still fighting. Plus new man sounds exciting – echoing the “seeing through bravado is a good thing” sentiments here…

Comment by nickopotamus — June 11, 2009 #

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Good to hear from you Missy!

Hope the dentist goes well, and things with new man go well too. As for being scared to let him in, I like this quote “When you let your guard down, when you really let someone know you, it is healing. I never dreamed it would be me who needed saving.” From http://bethsayswhatishouldhavesaid.blogspot.com/2009/06/when-you-want-to-save-someone-start_10.html

Comment by Chapati — June 11, 2009 #

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Oh, it’s wonderful to read this. I have tears streaming down my face! I love Chapati’s quote and I can’t think of anything better to say.

XXX

Comment by Karita — June 11, 2009 #

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lovely lovely lola. high five and a hug and all of that!!!

Comment by shawna — June 11, 2009 #

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Hey Lola,

im glad your back, even if it is just for one cheeky post. keep on living life out there, i have been doing it a little myself and i have to say i have enjoyed it.

thats the sign of a good man, keep hold of him

Lottie xXx

Comment by cmep — June 12, 2009 #

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Awww guys I’ve missed you all! Thanks for the huge amount of support. Seems I have found things to say again after all the sadness. I just can’t believe how things are turning out!! Much love to you all

Lola x

Comment by Lola Snow — June 12, 2009 #

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I feel like I’m late to the party; but echo everyone else – it’s great that you’re posting again and well done for being brave enough to ask for help xXx

Comment by Crazy Nurse — June 18, 2009 #

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Oh my God! How did I not know you were back?! Now I have some catching up to do, LOL!

I’m SO GLAD you’re back. And this whole entry made me cry. Asking for help is the hardest thing in the WORLD, and it’s so counter-intuitive that being vulnerable is what takes the most strength.

(Did I mention that I’m glad you’re writing again? Now I’m off to read the other recent entries! Woo-hoo!)

Comment by Marste — July 7, 2009 #

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