A Head Full of Beauty

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...

How far back does my pain go? I forget sometimes, how long I have lived with this... and no, my pain didn't always manifest itself in the shape of an eating disorder - or at least as ferocious an eating disorder as I have now. I was trying to remember a poem I used to love... and it led me to search back into my old computer files to look through the poems and writing that I produced when I was 17 and 18. It struck a chord with me. The pain was the same back then. I just hadn't learnt to channel it through my relationship with food. I never got better, I never got happier, I never found what I was looking for... I just got worse; I just got older; I just wasted more of my life. 19th May 2006 I am so scared. I am so lost, and so confused. So many times I have been falling, and sometimes I have even been soaring, but right now, I’m on the outskirts of a whirlpool, spinning rapidly, awaiting to be sucked into oblivion. I’m just swirling round and round, feeling sick, ...

Why, oh why has Ophelia been posting so much? I drifted so far away recently, posting once a week, once a fortnight.... Well, truth be told, Alex has locked me out of my facebook account in an attempt to get me to concentrate on revision. Oh yes - exams! Exams... seven to be precise - three hours each - the day after each other. excellent... So instead of sitting at my laptop pressing the 'refresh' button on my facebook homepage and seeing what uninteresting things my 480 'friends' have been doing, I have been sitting on blogger, reading old blogs, reading new blogs, commenting here and there, and of course, posting my usual rubbish! I used to be a good blogger - good to read, good at replying - an attentive blogger, a caring blogger. I think it's the slide from Ana to Mia. Ana makes for a good blogger, and Mia makes for a very bad one. Lets face it, what is inspirational about a wobbly white girl stuffing her face and spewing? This is the most messed up my li...

Does it get better? Does it ever go away? That emptiness in your head; that chill seeping through your blood; the coldness... I can't get rid of it. I sit myself on the edge of the sofa and draw my knees up to my chest. My huge legs, huge pink soft marshmallow legs, scrunching up the rolls on my tummy, big rolls. For all I have done, all week, all day, all night, is binge. Food is the narcotic. Eating is the addiction. I want to call him and hear his voice. I want to send him links to videos, to some of your blogs, to articles, to words, to pictures, to voices, to help him listen to mine. I want him to help me. But I don't want him to understand. I can't do it to him. Not only do I fear losing him (for what 19 year old boy wants to deal with a crying 22 year old falling to pieces on their shoulder?) But I fear I will destroy him as much as I have destroyed myself. "You don't see the world like I do." "What do you mean?" "You don'...

I've been out of control for too long. I am on the waiting list. Waiting for someone to save me It has been months since I took that first step into the GP's office and said, quite plainly, 'I am bulimic. I binge and throw up everyday, often several times a day.' They assessed me and agreed: I'm fucked. So they wrote the name Ophelia on the end of a line of other names. And have left me to get on with it. I know there's nothing more they can do. THEY. Them... the ones I want to save me. because I can't do it on my own I wish that you could save me, I wish that more than anything, because I'm so afraid. It's not going to be Alex; he's never met the girl that writes this blog. He never will. I've put on the act far too successfully. I found the winning formula and I crafted a porcelain mask from it - a mask that sits far too comfortably and fits far too well. Alex would never love Ophelia. And I would never burden myself upon him, because I kno...

I don't make any apologies for what I write on this blog. This is my head - Uncensored - All the uglyness of my thoughts in beautiful, bleeding words. Fundamentally, I set up this blog as an interactive diary. I've always written. I've always had to put down everything on paper because I could never tell anyone or trust anyone or burden anyone with what I was feeling and what I needed to express. Everything I write on this blog is what has happened to me, what I am thinking and what I am experiencing. I do not apologise for it. I do not apologise for sounding selfish or self-obsessed. I do not apologise for seeming shallow or weak. I do not apologise if you dislike me. Because this is me. I will never exclude or edit events to make you like me more. Because I have to do that in my real life everyday. I could never and would never tell anyone in my real life the depth of my insecurities or the confusion of emotions I feel - because they would judge me and hate me and think I...

This blog is my crazy space. It is the only place in the world, where I can be crazy. - Or rather, it is the one place in the world where I can talk, uncensored, about my crazy behaviour in the real world. Sometimes - as with the story I am about to tell - some people see my crazy behaviour - but you guys get the full picture. I suppose, what I'm saying is that this blog is not just about my eating disorder. It's about the terrible insecurities in my head, the reckless behaviour and the irrationality that comes from my mental instability - All the things that have created my eating disorder and which are also borne from my eating disorder - Body dysmorphic disorder, need for male attention, shopping addiction, obsessions, reckless drunkeness ... the list of abnormalities goes on. Now, 'The Club'. I've mentioned it in posts before, but feel I should explain it better for the purpose of this story. I was a member of 'The Club' at my university in another par...

I don't know what I'd do without you all. How on earth could I possibly get by without this blog? Without the love and support I receive through this medium? I just don't know. My physical 'friends' hate me whenever they see a glimpse of my true tortured soul. I am so sick of this aching, brave facade, but it's not a choice, it's a necessity. I went away this weekend with 'the club' - one of our weekend camps if you like. Of course D was there. He spoke to me once or twice in passing, but that was it. It wasn't as if he ignored me exactly, but there was none of the sweet friendliness and enthusiasm that he had shown towards me before. It seems he hadn't told anyone about me visiting him last week, or in fact acknowledged to anyone that we had become anything closer than mere acquaintances. Perhaps on the weekend he felt that he couldn't let the others see him being overly friendly with me? Perhaps he felt awkward? Perhaps he just wanted n...