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A Head Full of Beauty - Finally, Here I Am

This is my very first anonymous blog!
I’m an addictive writer, absolutely obsessed with it, and have, until now, always posted onto blogs on my myspace/facebook, so obviously everything I wrote had to be completely censored. I always had to write so cryptically that I felt like my words were being smothered in cotton wool – making them safe and inoffensive to any of my poor friends that stumbled across them.
There is no one who really knows the true extent of who I am. No one really knows who I’m talking about, or what they have done. No one really knows how I feel or what is going on inside my head. No one….except you!

So, here is some brief background info on me.
I am female, 21, in my final year at a good UK university (studying English Literature funnily enough!) When I am not at uni, I live with my Mum. My Dad died when I was 11 and I am an only child. I suffered from anorexia when I was 15, but managed to scare myself out of it before I got too ill. In the past year I have been severely bulimic and started self-harming and all that great kinda stuff. I have of course suffered from numerous extensive bouts of depression ranging from mediocre to extreme. I suffer from Body Dysmorphic Disorder – in other words I hate the way I look. It disgusts me and I have punished myself for it. There are some days I cannot be seen by people or walk out the door without a panic attack.
Sooooo that’s my mental illness summed up in a rather blunt paragraph. It manages to say more than all my years of censored writing.

I am also, addicted to men. I live my life by whichever man I am crazy about – and it changes pretty frequently. Despite my compulsive hatred of my appearance, I am generally deemed attractive and have little problem getting involved with guys. I do, however, only fancy the bad ones (who doesn’t!) and that combined with all my craziness and insecurity leads to a continuous stream of mess.
I always needed to find a real voice to speak about my fucked up shit. Finally, here it is.


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"Here I am, sane and dry"

"I stayed there, staring at myself in the glass. What do I want to cry about?.... On the contrary, it's when l am quite sane like this, when I have had a couple of extra drinks and am quite sane, that I realize how lucky I am.
Saved, rescued, fished-up, half drowned, out of the deep, dark river, dry clothes, hair shampooed and set. Nobody would know I had ever been in it. Except, of course, that there always remains something. Yes, there always remains something....Never mind, here I am, sane and dry, with my place to hide in. What more do I want?....I'm a bit of an automaton, but sane, surely - dry, cold and sane. Now I have forgotten about dark streets, dark rivers, the pain, the struggle and the drowning...."
Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight

Love. Sick.

And finally, today, I cried; soaked the tissues and pillowcase like I had been longing to do for weeks. The most I had been able to manage recently had been dry crying with a scrunched up face and aching heart. Such relief now to be able to physically release emotions other than vomit.

What words do I use to write about the last few weeks? Crippling, torturous anxiety, studying for finance exams, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting, seeing Gareth, fucking Gareth, hating Gareth, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting. Overcome by the fear and confusion and heartache. Studying for finance exams, but really just exercising and bingeing and vomiting.

The exams are done now and I have been free from those chains for a week - definitely alleviating a great deal of the pressure from my mental crumbling. I was close to slipping back under into the darkness. The darkness of having complete loss of control, complete loss of everything to the sickness in my brain.
days …


We both knew what we wanted - of that there is absolutely no doubt.
We didn't have to say anything, from the start of the week, right up until the point where I was naked in his bed; we both knew.
About two weeks ago Gareth and a few of our colleagues had arranged to have a night out this Friday. We had a pretty tight knit group of 6 who often lunched together at work, but this was one of the few times we were actually going out together. From Monday Gareth was pestering me like he had before:  "Are you coming out on Friday, are we going out out, are we gonna have a big one..."  "Yes", I had replied, "of course." And I booked my waxing appointment and blowdry for Friday lunch, my mind made up about what I wanted.  I had been thinking what would I regret more; sleeping with him or not sleeping with him. I decided on the latter. I'd not been with anyone since Joe left in January and more than that, thoughts of Gareth were continually running through…