A Head Full of Beauty

At 24 don't you realise the stakes are fucking higher now. I cannot and must not and will, fucking, not, kill myself for him. Why why why. Why is it the more I love him the more he will destroy me. Because without knowing it he forces my hand to my mouth - to purge, to take laxatives, to eat, to purge I am now completely under the control of my eating disorder again. I would like to pretend that it was only a matter of time - in fact I know it was - but it's also because of him. Fuck it all, I couldn't do, I knew I couldn't do it. The moment I fell I was doomed. I only want to destroy myself for him, because I have fallen in love with him and because I am completely terrified that I will lose him, and I will lose him because he sees - finally wakes up with clear eyes - and sees that I am fat. and ugly. run I broke tonight. Completely broke. Finally. Battered my vocal cords in the pitch black house, chocking on dry vomit that clogged up my insides. Over and over...

I came home on Wednesday night realising that I had fallen hard. It was the leaving drinks of one of the management team and much of the office was out for the party - Theo included. I nervously watched the door of the venue until he came, the girls I worked with laughing at me for my childishness. When he finally arrived it was a while before we spoke to each other, and when we did it was just casual and normal as it would be between any work colleagues. As the evening began to wear on we became more flirty and more separate from the rest of the crowd. He looked gorgeous as ever, his big brown eyes burning into mine and making me so hungry for him. I wanted to hold his hand, wanted to cuddle up close to him, I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to be open about our relationship, but I couldn't because people that we worked with were around. It killed me. It made me anxious. At one point I turned wild with jealousy when I saw him talking to another girl from my depa...

It nearly didn't happen. Millie and Rhianna spent all of Tuesday trying to convince me that Theo didn't really like me. I was devastated and broken, but mostly I was angry. How dare they tell me who I should or shouldn't date, telling me that I'm nothing to him, just another girl he can fuck, that he should be behaving in a way that they deem more appropriate, chasing me like a lovesick puppy. I was furious and my self-esteem was in shatters again. Sure, he was rubbish at replying to my messages and never gushed his feelings towards me, but I'd only really known the guy a few weeks! They sat me down and told me that taking him out on Friday would be a terrible mistake because he didn't like me and would only hurt me. But I am a rebel. I rebel against anyone who tells me what to do, and my God, thank goodness that I do! I remembered the way we had talked for hours, I remembered the way we had laughed, I remembered he had made me feel something I hadn't fel...

It's funny, the way the world works out. Theo and I had an incredibly fun time last Thursday when we went out - an undeniably incredible time. So you can understand why I was very confused when he became extremely flakey afterwards and refused to commit to another night when we could go out again. I have always been very straight up and direct when asking him out and was so again. He told me that he was busy all this week after work and when I tried to suggest a date of next Friday, I was told that this was too far in the future to know if he was free or not! I was fuming with anger. That's it, I decided, just like all the other guys, you get one chance with me, and if you can't show me that you want me, then I do not  have the time to waste. I imagined that for my next blog post I'd be sitting here at my laptop bitter and bitching about his behaviour towards me, but I'm glad to say that from this point onwards, this post takes a much more positive turn... ...

The main point I need to make from my behaviour in my last post is a very strong and clear one: I am not a role model. I am not a role model in any physical way, shape or form. This is physically the most ill I have ever been. And there's no denying that. Even though I feel on top of the world, even though mentally I've never felt better, that's all kind of irrelevant. It's irrelevant because my body won't last - and what's the point of being happy and being so alive inside when you know the physical medium that's holding it all together won't last for too long. I am either starving and over-exercising; bingeing and purgeing multiple times a day; or abusing laxatives, or several of these at once. The weekend after I slept with Theo I started to get scared. I pumped my body full of junk food after ripping my digestive system to shreds. I began to be afraid for the first time that what I'd been doing was going to see me end up in hospital - and...

If there is ANYONE out there who has recovered from an eating disorder... And I mean COMPLETEY recovered, back to the pure, normal, natural way of eating and thinking that you were when you were first born... PLEASE, I need you to reach out to me. And tell me it can be done. Because I simply cannot believe it otherwise.

Ok. Long story short. I slept with Theo on Friday night. In a hotel room. In Kings Cross. I'm not really sure how to continue with this story, but I suppose I must find a way to express it all and come to terms with it... Theo works in the same department as Gareth and Cassio - in the same team as Cassio in fact. And I've said it before, I fancied him the first day I saw him, and even more so when I spent much of the evening chatting to him at the usual office drinks one Friday after work. In terms of character and background he is exactly the type I always go for - exactly the type of boy I hung out with at University, exactly the type of boy I eye up in their suits on the way to work, exactly the type of boy I click with and have banter with and laugh with... plus it helped that he was easily one of the best looking guys in the office. 'Geek chic', Rhianna calls it, 'with those geeky glasses, but it totally works for him, he's cute.' I smiled at th...

I studied a book at University called ‘Spasm’ in which the author suggests that someone might create an illness because she ‘knows no other way of telling her life’s tale...the illness a conduit to convey real pain.’ Is that what my eating disorder is to me? The desire to stuff my face and throw up, the need to run until my feet are blistered raw, the buzz from fasting and curling up in a ball locked in the toilet cubical - are these desires created or born from the inner pain I had for so many years and had no way of expressing or feeling physically? Cassio is in the dangerous position of making me remember who I am. I am the girl who devoured books and poetry, wandered around the galleries alone, writing, dreaming, opening up her bare, raw soul to the harsh elements of Art. He is a culture snob. Fine dining, classical music, expensive clothes, European languages, European cities. He could never love London like I do, even as an Italian, his heart will ...

Thursday 27th October It has become a rule to binge - to eat myself to death - after a night out. Why. Why not. I am the queen of throwing up. I'd had an intense few days at work - travelling abroad and then pushing myself to the limit in the office overtime. It was nearing the end of a long Thursday afternoon and I needed to smile, laugh, feel good, feel power, feel - feel something. I knew where to get it. Cassio. I sent him an email. Dinner? He said no. Already had dinner plans. But drinks was a yes. I pranced over to his desk when I finished. Tony saw us, smiling knowingly at me. The good looking young kids always found each other. It was lovely. I loved friendliness, I loved chatting, discussing, questioning. When the time came for him to go to dinner with his friend he asked me to join him and I beamed. Of course. We had dinner with two of his friends and one of their other colleagues - all Europeans. He told me I was the first English girl he'd made friends...

Apologies for being away for so long and thank you to the 'lurkers'. I've been writing in my notebook meaning to post it up... : Friday 23rd September Playing games. I've been trying to stop myself all week. Every time I wanted to call Chris, email, message, accidentally bump into him in the kitchen... I kept having to keep myself in check, kept having to remind myself that I was only doing it for attention, only doing it for The Game. It wasn't fair on him or right to play with a person in that way. I restricted all week and rounded it off with a triumphant binge. Paraded around the office all day flirting and flitting from one guy to another, fake and bouncy, charming, pouting, batting my eyelids. Walked out the office door at the end of the day, scraped back my hair and walked the walk of shame to buy a weeks worth of food and shove it down my grotesque throat. Disgusting. The little girl wants to call the 30 year old man, wants to feel his arms around her,...