here is some more of my book…..
My identity became my eating disorder, and my eating disorder was my identity. I looked in the mirror and could not believe how thin I had got. I gazed at my perfect legs, ran my blue fingers over my protruding ribcage like a piano. My face was sunken, my cheekbones like daggers. The largest part of my body was my haunted eyes, which stared back at me in the mirror in a state of pure amazement and triumph at what I had achieved. I bought a pair of size four jeans which dangled around my stick like legs, and hung so lose around my waist and bottom, that I had to wear three pairs of tights and a pair of leggings under them just to keep them on. My hip bones poked out through my clothes, my stomach was concave, and my elbows sharp as knives. My breasts were completely non-existent, and even a child’s bra sat inches away from my chest. My knickers didn’t even fit, as I no longer had a bottom. They hung limply off me and resembled a loose nappy. Yes, to you this may all sounds extremely unattractive, but I felt absolutely stunning. I did not look real, I looked like some strange mystical creature, and that is what I felt like, on a trip away with the fairies, deep in a world of fantasy.
In contrast though, I felt fearful. Fearful of death at times, but then when I was feeling euphoric I could not care a less. Such a mix of these powerfully contrasting feelings is almost impossible to describe unless you have been through this yourself. Even then though, I cannot say that other people felt the same. The beautifully haunted world that I was living in was miles away from anyone else, and everything else.
After university every day I would not go home, but instead would pace in the darkness of the bitterly cold winter evenings to Fenwick’s department store. I would wander round aimlessly for hours gazing at all the beautiful objects. I became unbelievably observant and thought everything was stunning. How had I not noticed all of these amazing things before? The homeware section was my favourite. I would look at everything gold and fantasize about being rich and having all of these incredible items in my future luxury apartment. I was constantly thinking about other people and buying them things. I spent so much money getting people presents because I just wanted to give. I wanted to give everything and take nothing, to make other people happy because they deserved it and I didn’t. I spent lots of time baking the chocolatiest and most fattening cakes and handing them out to friends, watching in delight as they consumed a 600-calorie slice. This made me feel like I had a purpose, and it also made me feel great that I was so thin, could make all these delightful desserts, and watch other people revel in the taste and gain weight ha-ha.
I listened to a song called ‘Spiral’ on repeat. The lyrics ‘nothing’s really safe but everything’s amazing’ were constantly in my head. It was exactly how I felt about life… extremely unsafe, but fucking amazing. That line is the best description for the ridiculous contrast of emotions that had taken over me.
I was walking everywhere now. Forty minutes to university and forty minutes back. Up every flight of stairs I could find, the longest route possible, and round and round town and shops. I had been told to stop walking so much, and was supposed to get taxis everywhere. My mum even bought me a leopard print wheelie suitcase to carry my things to university in, as I was burning up too many calories carrying my huge bag around. I ignored both of these suggestions and carried on doing what I thought I should.
The only way, in which I was able to warm my permanently icy body up, was by sitting in a bath full of boiling water. I would run it as deep as I could before the water started to get cold. Actually getting in was horrendous, as it meant taking of all of my clothes and being unbearably cold for some long seconds. I would lower myself in slowly until my sharp tailbone clunked against the bottom of the tub. It was absolute agony to sit. I would lie back, my spine cracking against the surface. Sometimes I would exhale all of the air in my lungs and lie completely under the water just to see what it might feel like to not be in the world anymore. I would imagine drowning and only bring myself back up when I had to. I would look down at my purple knees, and would examine my skeleton of a body. Sometimes I would stroke the layer of fur that was developing on my arms, and wonder whether I HAD taken things too far, and even be a little scared. Thoughts like this never lasted more than a few seconds, as they quickly disappeared behind the mist of the voice congratulating me for achieving skinny. Getting out of the bath was dreadful. Being socking wet and THAT cold was excruciating. I would dart to my bedroom down the hall and blast the hair dryer over my transparent skin in a desperate attempt to heat myself again.
Another thing I did a lot around this time, was sit on benches. I would just walk around completely dazed and sit on benches anywhere by myself, and not think. I would be completely blank and glazed over, but horrendously lonely, cold and depressed at the same time. I remember sitting on a bench in town outside a church for several hours once. I was completely numb, and feeling nothing, till I felt a tear slide down my face, and then another, and then another. I didn’t move, I just sat there, blinking terrified tears, but feeling powerless to them. I felt like I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to, and nothing to say anyway. I ended up going in to the church, and sitting talking to myself, and maybe god. I had no idea what to do with myself. I was so, so sad.