A Head Full of Beauty

Let me fill in some gaps. Everything has been so strained and emotional lately that I haven't had time to talk about my life - not my head - my life. It's just been depressing, emotional, despondent post after post without a word on what has been actually going on around me - outside my swirling mind. So I need to tell you what has been happening. I didn't do my exams. In fact, I didn't do a day of revision. So, nearly two weeks ago, at 9am, as everyone else in my class opened up their first exam paper, I was sitting waiting for my first interview.  I'd had enough. I couldn't do it. Weak. Yes. I was weak - I had no intention of fighting or trying. I was too exhausted by everything. I had stopped caring about myself and my life. Alex had been doing his exams for the two weeks before this, I was on 'revision leave', and I was sitting at home, dying. No really, really, just dying. I let it be. Yes, I let it be. Sit and rot. Do nothing except watch your...

This is the bare bones: I want to recover. But I want to be thin first. It's been a bad week. Uncontrolled crying. In public. I can't I can't Why can't I get better. Alex. I cried myself sick, over and over again. I couldn't stop it. Crying hysterically in front of everyone and anyone... because of him. Not because he upset me - no. Quite the opposite. He's perfect. And his perfection, his beauty, his innocence, it hurts me so much. I don't know why. Or maybe, it's because I know: I have to end it. I have to. He's killing me. It's all killing me. Starving. Eating. Throwing Up. Binging. Laxatives. Restricting. Exercising. Sick. Sick. Sick I'm supposed to be going to a posh dinner as his guest tomorrow evening. And I can't. I can't. I can't put on a pretty dress that exposes the fat on my back, my huge arms and a tummy that sticks out 5 inches. I can't do my hair nice when it frames such a podgy and puffy...

I wanted to try and get away. Everything has been hard. The two people in my life who know about my eating disorder, who know I see a lady once a week, are the two people feeding it. If I wrote about the things my mother says to me... well I can’t . I can't leave. I have to write. If I don’t write... if I don’t write, it’s because I’m cured and my mind is empty and emotionless. I watched a fictional TV programme this evening where the characters travelled back in time to meet Vincent Van Gogh. The exploration of Van Gogh wasn’t deep by any means, but it touched the nerve of his genius quite simply: The Doctor to Van Gogh: “I’ve seen wonderful things, my friend, but you’re right, nothing quite as wonderful as the things you see.” His madness was so beautiful. What a mind, what an exceptional mind. Of course I would never compare myself with Van Gogh’s artistic genius, but it brought me back to the name of this blog: A Head Full of Beauty . I may have an eating disorder, I m...

"I believe in recovery." I have to.