Freedom - poem

Freedom. 

What is freedom? 

It’s not situational 

It’s not about having

The paperwork to say 

You’re allowed out for a few hours in the day. 

Freedom is laughing 

It’s running around the park

Freedom is feeling 

Like a child again at heart. 

Freedom is drinking cocktails at 3pm

And eating chocolate buttons because you can. 

Freedom is being able to be spontaneous, not always having a precise plan. 

Freedom is being able to hear your own voice

Beneath your eating disorders seemingly unrelenting call. 

Freedom is photos of you smiling and laughing, having fun and being daft 

it’s not forced or posed, it’s captured, its moments in time

That could never be recreated 

And aren’t formulated from the past

They’re memory making, they’re real living, they’re giving you the chance to feel... 

freedom isn’t a word or position, it’s something you work so hard to make real. 

You see, you could gain freedom from hospitals, or sections or restrictions

You could gain the permission to do an activity you want

But true freedom, it comes from within

When you give yourself permission to breathe again

When you don’t give the voice in your head the power to control you

When you find yourself in darkness, and light sparklers

When you feel lonely and let yourself be with others. 

When you sleep through the night and laugh through the day,

When you can be with others, or by yourself, and be assured that actually, 

you really are okay. 

Freedom is laughing, smiling, being happy

But also crying, feeling low and that’s okay. 

It’s being you, wholeheartedly you

How do I explain what I don’t understand? - poem

How do I explain what I don’t understand? 

How can I help you see what I believe to be reality? 

How can I make you understand that I don’t feel I have a choice 

When it orders, I obey, I react on command. 

How can I show you what I see

And explain how o feel 

How this world feels so big and scary 

And I feel so small. 

How can I say that I am lost, scared, vulnerable and confused 

That the war in my head is so vicious and I’m in the cross fire feeling bruised. 

How can I show you that I am trying, my god am I trying. 

But it’s not enough. 

Because I’m falling. 

How can I say I’m sorry that I haven’t worked it out yet 

That there’s no clear question so I can even begin to fathom an answer. 

How can I say I’m sorry for struggling

And that I’m as frustrated as you. 

How can I admit that my mind isn’t as healed

As people wish it was. 

That the wounds still run deep and are aching

And I’m limping around at a loss. 

How can I show you how much I am trying, with the full knowledge that it’s not good enough. 

How can I appease you and the voice in my mind? 

How do I find some calm, some quiet 

By only causing minimal harm. 

How do I explain that I am tired, so fucking tired of this fight. 

That I feel so much anger at myself and the world 

That I’m still desperately searching for the light 

How can I excuse my slip ups 

If I’m ever going to get this right? 

How do I make it okay again

How do I remain polite? 

When my whole mind and body is feeling so intensely 

All these things that make no sense

That ignite such a vicious war in my mind

That I block and numb and suppress all through the day 

But the demons are hiding in the dark,they come out to haunt me at night. 

How do I say I mean what I preach

And that I want to get better 

It’s just not as simple as

Just choosing to get there. 

It’s very urge that runs through you

It’s your survival instincts kicking in

It’s confusing and exhausting 

And I know it’s the easy option to just give in. 

But please understand 

What I struggle to explain

I am trying my hardest 

But I fear I do have the strength 

To pull myself back out of it again. 

We are the paradoxes- poem

We have stripped rooms

But full minds 

We rattle when we walk

With full medication charts 

We hear voices so loud

Yet ours are so hushed 

Voices dampened with bad experiences

We are withdrawn, afar, hold mistrust. 

We are the silent sufferers 

But can’t stay quiet for long

We are the quietest of them all

Until we hit breaking point. 

We are the shaken cans of soda

The pressure cookers hitting their limit

We are the victims of this cruel evil illness

 We are the puzzles with pieces that don’t fit. 

We are the compassionate yet self abusive

We value honesty and trust 

And yet have said every single array of lies and excuses. 

We are the numbers to the government 

Being told to value ourselves as people 

We live in a violent paradox 

Where merely surviving feels unmanageable. 

With the soul of a five year old, but the bones of an eighty year old. 

We are the trapped, 

Searching for freedom

In an illness that comes with the biggest catch of all.  

To be free and happy and seemingly ‘okay’ 

You have to surrender your soul. 

Recovery isn’t easy - poem

There’s no magic pill

Or a breakthrough therapy session

No magic wand

Or epiphany decision

This is a war

Against your own mind

Every second of every day 

Is a battle of some kind. 

To fight the urge to use behaviours

To give in ‘just this once’ 

Constantly reminding yourself

That the voice in your head is a liar. 

Once is never enough, neither is 100 times 

It wants your life 

You have to be a fighter. 

24 hours a day, seven days a week

There is no time off or short break. 

Recovery is a full time commitment 

It’s a battle for your life 

And no matter how much the exhaustion overwhelms you, and you just want the shortest of breaks,

You can’t quit. Because deep down you know, 

and you have to hold onto the belief, that all the battles and fighting, 

it’ll be worth it. 

I’m struggling - poem

You ask me how I’m feeling

What’s happening in my head 

How can I explain

That I’m holding on by a thread

That every minute feels like an hour

And yet the days are flying by

I spend each waking moment

Waiting for the day to pass by. 

You ask me if I’m okay, and I smile and say fine

And I feel a stab of frustration 

That I am still lying. 

I wish I could say help me

I’m getting sucked in again

The badness in me is overwhelming

And I can’t help but give in. 

Tomorrow never comes - poem

your voice, starts quiet, a convincing nudge

To just skip this, scrape that, make this weight on me start to budge. 

You told me don’t worry, the hunger will pass

And I will allow you to eat

When you’ve lost a little more, when you fit a smaller size, it’ll be worth it for that missed treat. 

It all sounds so reasonable, in that moment

A small deal means you give me some quiet, and I just have to do one small thing, 

You told me that you would help me feel better

And the pain, discomfort and misery you were causing would be worth it

When I finally hit that goal weight, when I felt small enough, in this world I would somehow fit. 

You told me when I was okay, when I had achieved all the goals

You would let me be free 

You told me that you were just here to help me

That I am in control, and you are simply here to aid and guide me. 

Every time I fall again

You promise me I can start again tomorrow

You see me watching others with envy,

How they can ‘just eat’ without feeling such guilt, such sorrow. 

You tell me ‘just one last time’ to try to ease the blow

The truth, the harsh facts that you have never had any intention of letting me go. 

Haven’t we been here before? 

7 years of your torment, rules and false promises

Everytime you take another day, you prove your brutal dominance 

I lose the resilience to fight you again

I get caught up in the belief

That the pain you’re causing will only be temporary

And that tomorrow you’ll allow me to live again, you will give me some relief. 

But you’ve pushed me to the point where 

You’ve taken all the air from my lungs 

Withered any lasting hope that you will release me from your grip

Because tomorrow never comes. 

What went wrong? - poem

Funny, intelligent, strong 

Where the hell did it all go wrong? 

Planned, precise, perfect

Was my whole personality just a defect? 

I tried to do what was best

What I thought would please others

What I thought was best for myself

And now I’m withering in the gutters. 

I thought,

If I push myself, be the best I can

I will be happy, calm and content 

I would feel better in myself, more confident. 

I had everything going for me, grades, friends, a life 

and I wanted it so badly

But it became my crypto night. 

You see I have this voice in my head 

And it twists my world to the extremes. 

Black and white, right and wrong

There’s good and bad, big and small

And the rules became so strict, the wold so contorted and regimented 

And I didn’t belong. 

I couldn’t fit the mould made for me

I didn’t meet the expectations 

And if I didn’t manage, if I wasn’t perfect 

Then I was a failure, a humiliation. 

I wanted everything to be well

I wanted to be happy, and I wanted everyone around me to be 

But the more I ached for this , the more out of control I felt. 

I saw any sign of distress, unhappiness and sadness as a problem that I had to fix 

I saw any slipping grade, missed goal, Red Cross as a complete failiure, an embarrassment, shameful against my name

I slowly began to withdraw into a bubble 

That I felt I could contain. 

In this bubble, it felt safer, I could keep everything organised 

I wasn’t alone though, there was my ‘friend’, I thought an ally, but it was a disguise. 

The voice of ED pushed me harder than ever

And I thought it was for the best. 

The only things it allows me to remember

Are the successes it helped achieve, the A*’s in tests. 

The smiles on the teachers faces, when I did extra homework

The comments from school girls changed to an awe of my self control, self containment. 

All it allows me to remember is the feelings of calm,

The control, the success, how it promised me I’d come to no harm. 

But what it failed to warn me, and it block me from recalling 

Is the utter hell it really was, how each day became gruelling. 

What it fails to remember is the exhaustion that never stopped 

The way I felt so OUT of control

So low, confused and lost

It stops me from remembering

The looks of concern. The comments of anxious friend and worried teachers

The warnings id gone past the point of no return. 

What it fails to let me remember

Is the fear that I felt

Every night that I lay in my bed

Counting my pulse beat slower. 

How everyday I felt weaker

And my ED told me that was a sign to push harder. 

What it fails to remember is the pain

The confusion that starvation causes 

How my grades never stayed at A*, in fact they got completely halted. 

What it fails to remind me is the mental hell it induces 

That pushed me to such desperate lengths 

That saw me talk of every lie and excuses 

What it fails to remind me is there is no finish point with anorexia

I’ll never feel enough, I’ll never have permission to eat again

If im looking for it from the thing that wants to end me

What it fails to remind me is how I lost my friends, family, anyone I loved 

Because it twisted them in my eyes to the enemy that I could not trust. 

What it fails to remind me is that it almost killed me, more times than I fear to recall

What it blocks me from remembering is how it caught me in the cycle of setting me up to simply watch me fall. 

Because It pushed me to the point that was almost too far to forgive 

Before I realised just how much I wanted to live. 

I don’t know - poem

I don’t know

I cry and my head swirls around

I don’t know

I shout as the voices tear me down

I don’t know 

I plead as the thoughts tie knots

I don’t know 

I beg as my strength has far expired. 

I can’t explain what I don’t understand 

So believe me when I tell you, I really am tired

Just not in the way you think, it’s an exhaustion of ultimate lengths 

From this cobweb of thoughts, feelings and beliefs that constantly scream loud

Has become all too intense. 

So, I don’t know, and I really do not 

And I’ll leave this like this, with no finish or answer, because that is me right now. 

Lost 

What to say & not to say

Just gonna put this out there because a lot of people don’t understand and it can be extremely detrimental to someone who is trying to recover;

Please don’t comment on weight gain. 

Please don’t say how ‘much better’ or ‘healthier’ 

Please try to steer comments of how someone is progressing away from appearance. 

We know, we know we look different. We know because we climb on scales twice a week under professionals close watch. We know when we tackle 6 meals a day and vigilantly ensure we try for at least an hour post every meal. 

An eating disorder is the over evaluation of weight and shape, so in recovery, we are encouraged to NOT focus on those things. 

Things that can really help; 

Commenting on how much more engaged in a conversation someone is. 

Reminding them how their laugh is real now, and their smile not forced. 

Emphasising that they are still worthy, and their weight and shape doesn’t change who they are as a person. 

Not treading on egg shells with them around food, we want a normal relationship with it and acknowledge that it is part of living. 

Helping them see the future, plans out with food, meals, appointments etc. 

Telling them how nice it is to see them out and living, doing things, being with people. 

Basically, please don’t emphasise physical changes. It can set people back, I’ve seen it happen and also felt the sharp end of it. Trust me, we know. And we are trying to get on with it. Weight restoration in recovery is a horrendously difficult process, psychologically and physically, and support is valued massively, but please don’t comment on it. Remember, physical changes are a minute part of recovery. The body goes faster than the mind. Even when restored to a physically healthy place, the person will still need a lot of support, and will still be struggling, probably even more so. 

Hold On - poem

YOURE GONNA BE OKAY. 

Things are really hard right now, 

And despite what you think, you are still very poorly

But you just keep fighting 

Don’t let that voice become too unruly. 

Lean on the support, keep talking to people

I promise you it will be worth it, the daily battles aren’t feeble

They mean lots of little steps

That make up the larger strides 

You see recovery isn’t a straight line

And there’s no easy guides. 

Sometimes it a case of simply holding onto hope

That one day, it won’t hurt so much, and you will be able to cope. 

Don’t lose faith in yourself, and trust the process

For each little recovery win

Should be the greatest success. 

And slowly they will become normal

And your mind will be kinder

The voices will hush down

Because you are a fighter. 

You deserve to be free, you deserve to live

So please for now, just hold on

Because you have so much more to give.