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'I'm glad the rain is coming down hard. It is how I feel. I love you so.'

I know my posts are starting to become really sporadic.
I apologise.
I'm trying to live... trying to be busy...
perhaps I'm trying to run

"I regret to inform you that the Medical Board has decided, having reviewed your medical do not meet the medical entry standards."
I got turned away from two careers this week.
The first I had to have an interview with a doctor. The second I had to have an interview with a psychiatrist. I couldn't lie my way out. I tried.

I have to thank Mia. I have to thank my body. No one wants to employ someone with a 'history' of mental illness. Even though I lied and told them I was cured now.
It's still there. It will always be a black mark by my name, no matter how I try to put a gloss on it.
It's still a blip on my character. It says I'm unstable. It says I'm weak.
It says unemployable.

Anorexics are turned down because: "It is impossible to predict the 20% of sufferers who make a full recovery and the remainder relapse and remit or remain severely ill."
And Bulimics: "may be considered for recruitment if they have been symptom free for more than 4 years, but 30% relapse and so referral is recommended."

It's a fucking hard pill to swallow.

And yes, I shed tears.

I had told them the bulimia was in my past - that I was cured - that I had learnt so much about myself on the road to recovery - and even then they didn't want me. Let's face it. If they knew the truth, if they knew I still stick my fingers down my throat everyday, if they knew about this blog, if they had any idea of the fear in my heart... they'd never even have let me in the interview room.

And that's not where my attempted glossing ends.
I told Alex.
Oh Alex.
I told him I failed my medical for the job.
On Friday evening, I told him why.
"In my second year of university, I had bulimia."
But I stopped there. Silence.
"but you're ok now aren't you." It wasn't a question, it wasn't concern; it was him confirming that I was fine.
I said nothing. I couldn't lie... I didn't want to lie to him, of all people, I don't want what I have with Alex to be a lie... so I said, "I'm on a waiting list for more treatment. Just to get the final demons out of my head. But I am better than I was. It was out of control before. It is better now. But it's not gone."
Half true. It's not better in any sense of the word, but I am on a waiting list... only this is the start of treatment, not the end...
He asked me how often it happens now. I said once in a while... when I eat too much... when I can't stop it. But I am better now. I am better now Alex...

I had to lie.
I had to lie to him. I wanted to tell him the truth, I did. I wanted to tell him I still throw up every day - that it's never gotten any better - that I need him to support me and love me...
But I couldn't.
He doesn't understand sadness like I do. He doesn't understand fear like I do. There would be no point in telling him, "I'm really insecure, I hate myself, I stuff my face and throw up, sometimes several times a day, and then I exercise like a madwoman until I collapse, and then I starve myself until I shake, and I am so afraid, and Alex, Alex I need you to hold on to me..."
He wouldn't understand any of my words.

I spent all of Friday and Saturday with him.
We walked through Hyde Park in the sunshine, sat by the lake and watched the swans, ice cream in one hand, his hand in the other. I stayed in his bed all night, fireworks and laughter, heat and fingertips; he held on to me until the sun rose... until mid afternoon, because neither of us could tear ourselves away. And then he cooked me 'breakfast' at 3pm. Fried eggs, bacon and toast. And I ate it. And it felt wonderful.
I've never felt warmth from someones body like that before. I've never had someone kiss me that way before. I've never felt so right before.

But he can't save me.
He wouldn't know how.
And now, I should be petrified - because I'm really falling. I'm choking on his sweetness.
It's an age old cliché, but really, I've never felt this way about someone before.
This isn't lust. This is something far more scary.

This is something far more painful.

Last night we went to a barbecue with a group of others from 'The Club'.
But we weren't a couple.
To the outside world, there was no hint of anything going on between us. You'd never know I spent the previous 24 hours blissfully in his arms.
The only one there who knew that anything was going on was the girl who was wrapped up with him for most of the night. With their stupid banter, that they're married, 'hubby', hahaha. He doesn't laugh like that with me. He's not sitting alone with me. He's not talking to me.
I had to stand behind the locked door of the toilet to choke back the tears on several occasions. I was slightly drunk, which made my emotions difficult to control, but I couldn't get upset about this. She's my friend. She knows about me and Alex - she wouldn't do that. Alex doesn't like her, he likes ME. They are just flirting as friends. They are just friends. It's just banter. Everyone else is wrong, their legs aren't entwined, something isn't going on...they aren't... they aren't... because he's with me... he is...I have no right to be jealous; no need to feel sick in my stomach... stop being drunk and stupid, walk back in there tall and proud...

As I stood, steadying my nerves behind that closed bathroom door, I made a single note in my notebook. I hate him. I don't want the pain.

I meant it.

Of course we left together; but I was cold towards him. I was hurting and afraid. I didn't hold his hand as we took the last tube and waited for the nightbus. Instead, I walked with a notable distance between us and couldn't look him in the eyes.
I didn't want to care about him. I didn't want to be falling for him. I didn't want him to be capable of doing this to me... But he is.
...and I am weak; my coolness towards him quickly began to melt, and by the time I was in his bed it was gone - I was his.

But it wasn't the same as before. It wasn't quite the same. He knew there was a distance between us. It wasn't quite the same when he held me. In the morning, when I woke up and got out of bed, he asked what was wrong, why was I up so early?... 'nothing', I said.
But he knew.
And awkward as he was, he tried to mention it; 'This is a bit random, but, you know Katie and I have this thing where we pretend we are 'married'...'
'Yeah I know,' I said bluntly. There was a bitterness in my voice that I couldn't disguise, so I didn't say anything more.
'Oh, good... I er, thought you should know.'
He was probably waiting for me to say it was alright, haha how funny. But I said nothing, because it wasn't. Take your victim as you find them Alex - I'm insecure and vulnerable.

It's stupid, I know. There's nothing going on between them. He likes me. He does.
...But I'm afraid. I mean, I'm fucking petrified. Because I'm in so deep now - I'm in deeper than I ever was with James or Jon or anyone - and I remember how much they hurt me. They hurt me because I let them - because I let myself fall for them, and in doing so, laid myself vulnerable and exposed.
Yes, I'm jealous and insecure - and I know those are my faults, not his - but still, they are faults of mine which are not going to go away and are only going to get stronger and harsher the more I fall and the longer I let him keep control of my heart. I need to protect myself.

I want to run
I'm scared

'You're wonderful, you know that?'
'I think your body's perfect.'
'I'll drive you there - and you will probably meet my parents - big steps!'
'You're amazing.'
'I think I'm falling for you'.

Why the hell do I want to run from him?
Is it just fear? Or do I know that I can't handle it? Because I'm not better yet... I'm too fragile for this.

I'm still throwing up everything I eat. (Except when I'm actually in his company).
I still spent two hours yesterday trying on every combination of sports kit I owned before I played in a netball match because I knew he was watching. Every pair of sports trousers, skirt, top, t-shirt made me look fat. Everything I tried on I ripped off and flung to the floor in horror until I was finally sat, distraught and senseless, surrounded by clothes that my body couldn't deal with. Stupid, fat, loser. He's gonna see your huge pink legs and flabby arms. He's gonna see sense. He's gonna be embarassed that he ever thought you were attractive.
If I know he likes me just as I am, why does the mirror still torture me? Why am I still so crazy? So full of self-hate? So bulimic?
Why isn't Alex the cure?


  1. I had the same thing. I thought for the longest time, "If someone loved me, really loved me, I'd be better. Everything would be okay." But it doesn't change anything. "It's me, not you."

  2. Boys are confusing. To bad he's not your cure, I think boys are one of my triggers.

  3. You know its nice to see someone let everything out, I can't do that completely I dont want to let everyone know how insecure how vunerable I feel, I admire your strength to let everything out,n I hope Alex continues to treat you well, and I'm sorry about the medical schooling can they do that if its on like your juvenile record?

  4. I'm sorry to hear that you failed your medical :( but stay strong, things will always work out for the best. I'm a strong believer that things always happen for a reason, even if we can't see it at the time.

    from one law student to another, I liked your reference to the thin skull rule btw :p

    take care <3 xx

  5. this is why I can't go into treatment. What good does it do if it fucks everything else up?

  6. Stay strong, Alex seems like a really nice guy.

  7. I'm in a similar situation. I'm falling for this boy and I know he likes me too. I'm too fat to deserve him. He likes tall skinny beautiful girls. He is shallow, and I am short fat and ugly. But I love him anyway. I want to tell him I'm damaged but he wouldn't understand.

    So I know. And I don't know what to do about it either.

    Sorry about the job thing. I have a feeling my history of anxiety and depression will come back to haunt me one day. Thank god my ED isn't documented anywhere but the internet...

    Keep your chin up; you're not alone.

  8. Ophelia... no boy is going to save you


    Stop eating that crap. Stop making yourself sick.
    Start eating the greens, the fruit, the vegetables.

    Come on! You can do this.

    x x x

  9. Its hard being in love and whoever says its easy is a fool. You are a strong person though, you can hang in there. You WILL succeed. No one can be a cure though, you are your own cure. If you allow Alex in, he may be able to help you succeed. You have to do what is right for you.

    Hang in there, I know you can :) Stay strong

  10. I thought that love would be the answer in my case, too. It's not. Disease doesn't care how much you love or are loved.

  11. I know how you feel, I know exactly how you feel. I've been there, it's horrible, it hurts.

    It aches like hell it does,
    Stay strong!

    Much love, A.Stone

  12. not updated for more than 80 days. miss you /xo

  13. Ophelia,

    It kills me to think that I could be saying goodbye... because in a strange kind of way you too are my closest friend, the person who understands me most. This vision that has brought us together, this image of beauty, happiness, physical mental health, clarity, vitality, PERFECTION... This state of heaven that we’ve been striving so hard (and admittedly sometimes not so hard) to attain... It’s so difficult to understand. It’s the ultimate. It’s something in which we have everything. I guess its success... success on all levels. Like an awakening, through body, mind, soul... spirit...

    Youth and beauty don’t last forever, at least not in this world. In the end we will age, our faces will fall and we won’t be able to look like the girls in the magazines. But that’s life. That is life and there’s nothing we can do about it. The only thing that will make any of it worth it is if we cling onto the people and the little things that we know will make us happy in years to come. Just picture yourself in ten, twenty years time. You’ve got a house, a husband, children, your job, sunny holidays, family, friends, a really good life. Ophelia... bulimia, anorexia, obsession, body dysmorphic disorder, anxiety, insecurity, depression... none of those illnesses are a part of it.

    I want you to make me a promise. I want you to promise me that you’ll stop. If I, if this, if anything means anything to you... you’ll stop. I mean it. I’ve never been more serious about anything. Please, I’m begging you. You have to stop. You have to let this go. You have to make yourself happy, maybe you won’t be happy right away but you will be one day. Make the pain go away. You’ll look back at those labels and they will no longer describe you. It was once upon a time, but it’s not anymore. The past is behind you.

    If it’s true, if we do understand each other, if we do have this connection... then I know how you can get out of it. I know how you can make it stop. And no I don’t want you to fast or get onto raw food like I did. I lost weight only because I was existing on next to nothing. Liquids and a little salad. Ophelia, I’m terrified. I cannot maintain this diet, I cannot maintain this weight. Sooner or later when a certain social situation arises and I am faced with food. I will eat it. And I will die. I will die because I have ruined everything. I have fallen off the wagon, away from the plan. I have eaten.... food. Normal food. And then I will binge. And I will be back to my old ways. Ophelia I know it will happen and I can’t help but cry. Because I’ve done this to myself. I’m trapped. I know I will lose it when faced with food. I will lose my mind. I will end up in hell again.

    I don’t want you to fast or to go raw, but neither do I want you to be normal. I don’t want to change you. I love you as you are. You are exceptional. I will never make you be one of those girls... the ones with the soft bellies... Those happy-go-lucky, junk food addicted, wishy-woshy, without a care, “normal” girls. No, I don’t want that for either of us. It is only our habits that we must change. Not our personalities or who we really are on the inside.

  14. I read this book recently called Two Lipsticks and a Lover. I didn’t really think much of it but I found the whole concept about the chic Parisian women, slightly arrogant, impeccably turned out, pencil thin from eighteen to eighty... I found it absolutely intriguing. Because Ophelia, that is exactly what we both want. The whole sexy bitchy thing, you know? And this is the secret. This is the cold hard truth of it all. They eat three meals a day. Yes, they eat three meals a day. They don’t snack and they don’t overindulge at meal times. And... that’s it. They just aim to eat healthy food. Lots of leafy greens, lots of vegetables, lots of fruit. They don’t care about getting ‘protein’ or ‘carbs’ – they just go for the good stuff! The natural food that grew from the Earth. They’re quite happy to eat salad as a meal in itself. But the trick is not to obsess about a bit of cereal or bread. If it’s there they just eat a little and move on. It can’t hurt. In moderation, it won’t make you fat. They don’t seem to worry, they don’t stress about it. They just push on forwards.

    I don’t think you or I could deal with it. And that is entirely the problem here. A little bit would turn into a lot and then suddenly we’re bent over a toilet making ourselves sick. We both have to learn to stop. We must have the discipline to be strict with ourselves and walk away. And no it’s not anorexia – it’s just living thin. It’s knowing when to say no. It's the only way to skinny.

    The prospect of real food is constantly on my mind and it scares me. Because how will I stop? At the moment I graze throughout the day on fruit and veg. But if I let myself graze on junk food again... Ophelia I will get so fat and lose everything. So this is it. I’m making the conscious decision. I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m going to eat three meals a day. I’m going to be like a French girl because that’s the only way I can see this happening for me. That is the only way I can maintain thin. I’d love to go out with my friends again and have coffee, croissants, yogurt and berries for breakfast. I’d love to go out with Lewis, drink red wine, eat pasta (lol those wagamama noodles are always on my mind!)... just live again! You know?

    So this is it. Three meals a day. Healthy stuff 100% of the time and then maybe just once a week... a night out and one reeeaaallllyyy yummy meal. And alcohol? Ophelia, alcohol weakens your resolve like nothing else and when you knock back so many drinks that you can’t even remember how many you’ve had... You’ll lose it. You’ll go mad and binge. You know you will. Remember, every sip of alcohol leaves a cut. So go easy on the drink. I think it actually says in the book, French girls never drink to the point where they are shamelessly drunk, throw up and fall over. :p Ok so you and me are clearly nothing like the flawless pissing French but argh! I suppose they’re right. Moderation. Common sense, discipline and an iron will.

  15. One day we’ll look back on this time and think of ourselves as so strong and such fighters for carrying on, for pushing on forwards, for finding hope and striving towards that something that will make all the difference. It’s so hard. Because no one understands. There’s no one I can talk to about this, about the problems spinning round my head, the worries that constantly poison my thoughts. Oh the insecurity... I feel so lost. But Ophelia, here I am. You understand me. You know exactly how it is. So there we have it. Sex, drugs, lies. The messed up truth we spill out here that somehow protects us from this ruthless society we live in because we manage to make it sound ok...

    But it’s not ok. It’s not ok to live like this. We have to find an equilibrium, a balance. A way of eating, a way of living that doesn’t cause so much self hate and pain. Three small meals a day. You can eat anything you want. Just keep the portions manageable.

    We have to live. We have to keep going. Live for the emotions! That pounding heart, the love, the lust, endorphins, adrenaline, everything that makes this worth it and gives this game the glory it holds! It’s fun. Its makes us happy. So we can't give up. We just can't. Food is food. It doesn't define who we are. It only (to a certain degree) defines what we look like.

    I want you to know that I have loved every single one of your posts and I’m not sure how I would survive without reading your words which mean so much... It’s weird. How life does that. How it shakes everything up, brings people together and then draws them apart in this tangled web of fate that’s sewn together in such a fragile way that you start to question whether any of it is actually real. Ophelia did you happen? Or did I just dream you up? :)

    I love you. I love you like nothing else.

    Be strong <3

    Holly x x x

  16. Oh yeah! About the Allen thing. Dear God I was CONVINCED I met your mother a couple of months ago... No Ophelia, don't laugh! :P I swear to you, I honestly thought I had. Umm I'm not sure I should say exactly where I met her. But it was in South London.... the leafy suburbs. She was of Chinese descent, really naturally beautiful, perfect face, long dark shimmery hair, red lips, totally thin. And a major player in business and law. And I was just like holy fuck! Maybe... Lol Ophelia, seriously. I didn’t know whether I should bring it up with you because I was just so totally convinced you were her daughter. I’m going mad aren’t I? I actually had a dream about you the other week too... I think I’m a little obsessed/haunted. hahaha. Sorry! Love you! :D xx


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