Recovery is a tightrope - poem

You say I’m irrational, I am rigid and still poorly

And I know i still cannot trust myself wholefully 

and I consistently get it wrong... I’m sorry. 

I’m balancing a tightrope that is wobbling in the wind

One I’ve been navigating for quite some time, 

It takes all my effort to stay on this road, in the correct mind

And I panicked as I realised... this tightrope I balance, where does it go? 

This panic this fear, how can I know? 

It’s all so new, so untrodden and fresh 

It’s change from the patterns that almost lead me to death. 

So I know it’s important I stay upright 

And I know when I balance it brings others delight 

So I’m trying, Gosh I’m trying to hold my balance

But sometimes it’s windy, and I can’t keep treading along it, for merely standing still in these winds is an awful challenge. 

Backward is terrifying, like a black hole that chases me 

And I know I don’t want to go back there, 

And that fear makes me flee. 

But when I panic and rush, I take too longer strides

In an attempt to never go backwards, or get it wrong 

To not be lured back to the false promises it provides 

The panic, the rush, it causes me to fall

To trip on this thin wire, 

I lose time to the downfall. 

I couldn’t tell you what scares me more

The black hole chasing me

The fear of getting it wrong

The panic I am falling backwards 

That the darkness will be life long. 

Or the tightrope I tread, not knowing where it leads 

Where each day I navigate a new step

And the ground wobbles underneath. 

Where there is no predictability 

Or routine that shows me how. 

Like finding my way through the fog

And the black hole calling and causing distress anyhow. 

My knees are bent to give me stability

Because there’s a storm that’s rocking the rope

I’m grabbing on with both hands right now 

Trying to keep calm and afloat. 

Because there is of course my other biggest fear

And that’s what keeps me going. 

Is the fear that my hands slip and I loose my footing

And I completly fall off this tightrope. 

My ending foregoing. 

The power of ED - poem

It’s unrelenting 

A constant trail of abusive and scrutiny 

Mocking all that’s wrong with you 

It puts you down brutally 

It twists all the words you hear everyday

The voices your trusted, it turns them to dismay

Words of encouragement are pressures you can’t live up to

The slightest wrong look is a failure that defines you. 

How can I get you to see the confusion

How could I explain the unrelenting noise in my mind

How could I help you understand the exhaustion

How I am feeling so bruised and confined.

Hospital is scary and it holds bad times 

It can be damaging and unsupportive and I fear for my vulnerable mind. 

It can equally help me, support me in some way, it breaks up the responsibility

And sometimes I need that little extra help when it’s al feeling so loud and scary. 

But what’s hard to understand is the microscope you are under 

That I’ve been under for such a long time. 

On one shoulder is ED whispering and egging you on, pressuring, controlling, taking up all your time. 

And the other is a voice of instruction and robustness, a voice that you’ve been told you must rely. 

The noise that is created, the argument, the commands

Both sides hold their reasons and it feels like trying to calm the strongest contestation. 

Do I trust my thoughts and where they lead me

Am I doing what’s right or 

Am I being deceiving? 

The abundance of knowledge I’ve gained through the years 

Is like a bible of guidance and yet it installs so much fear. 

It’s tiring, and I feel lost 

So much noise from so many different sources 

How can I navigate the way forward? 

How can I hold my nerve when all sides hold such forces? 

I’m putty in your hands

I feel like putty in your hands

Moulded and contorted to how you want me to be 

Pressed into the space you want me to fit

Folded and made into something I’m not

Like a wrong shaped piece of origami. 

Like a puppet on strings, you call and I come

It seems no matter how empty you leave me everytime it goes wrong

I can’t help but believe that you might’ve changed this time 

You tell me that coming back to you means I’m strong. 

You tell me I’m pretty and worth it, that you’re willing to put up with me because you care 

Well your fist speaks otherwise, the bruises that appear. 

Your words are twisting my mind and turning my thoughts dark

And the lines are ever frequent that trace my wrists. 

They say, you chose me because I was vulnerable 

And I wouldn’t be able to say no

They say you knew every move you made

That you will use me and then leave me alone. 

DISCHARGE! - poem & writing

There was once a girl

Who was so scared, lost and confused 

A shell of a person, barely surviving 

Caught in a cycle so vicious, she was exhausted and bruised. 

Shipped and passed around from hospital to hospital 

She seemed unreachable, her life ending at just 19 seemed probable. 

Health deteriorating, She lay awake at night 

Counting her slowing heart beats 

Her aching body, cramping, shouting, crying 

Begging to hold on, warning her she was dying. 

She stumbled through each day getting weaker and weaker,

Not only physically but her mind too

She was falling, she was dying. 

She resigned her life to the illnesses that would kill her 

She hated herself so much 

She wanted nothing more than to disappear. 

She wept into her pillow at night 

And hid away in her room

She was in so much mental pain that she turned it in on herself 

She punished hererlf, tore herself down; 

Was so harsh and violent, self- depreciating, self abusive,

But outwardly was silent. 

She starved herself, And took blades to her skin

She tried to end her life

Because she couldn’t cope with the pain within. 

She hit rock bottom, only for the ground to collapse beneath her

She fell so far down the rabbit hole that she couldn’t believe there was a way up, she couldn’t believe it could ever get better. 

That girl is me, and I am proud to say

I am here today, able to tell my story,

Of the times I felt so whrenchingly hopeless, so pained, angry, lost and alone, sad and terrified 

But here today because,

Despite it all, I did survive. 

I’m the girl that fought the demons she swore had won

That needed a little bit of help to see the fire hadn’t gone out, maybe just dimmed in the storm. 

But a lot of hard work and patience 

Meant the single lasting flame stood strong in the gales

And with a lot of dedication, the fire started to warm again, the light started to glow

And I began to see it was worth it, even if it felt slow. 

I’m the girl that got back up 

Everytime I fell over. 

I’m the girl that kept reminding herself to hold on, 

Because this pain couldn’t last forever 

I had to learn how to stand again, on my own two feet 

And brace myself for the next hit. I had to learn that yes the storm will hit,

But I cannot quit. 

I’m the girl that was once so lost

So quiet, scared and hidden 

That now laughs, and smiles

That now has a vision. 

I want the days to be longer 

And the nights oh so starry. 

I want the sun to shine, the leaves to rust

I want the snow to fall, to accumulate in drifts. 

I want to dream in wanderlust. 

I want to meet more people 

And explore more places 

I want to live in this world 

To live, not just survive 

After all these years of not even living

I’ve been revived. 

I’m the girl that was told I would never get better 

The girl that was signed off as chronic. 

I’m the girl that was turned away by help

For being too complex, too chaotic. 

I’m also the girl that never stopped fighting 

No matter what my illnesses told me

No matter how torn down I felt

Because I wanted to be free. 

And I kept going, no matter the cards I was dealt. 

I’m the girl, that is not supposed to be here. 

But I stand here today, strong, alive

And ready to take on the world 

Because despite all the odds,

I did survive. 

Well, here we are. Twenty nine months later. Two years and 6 months later... 

The whole of this admission has been an absolute rollercoaster, but I am a completly different person to the shell of a girl that was dragged trough those doors all that time ago. Apart from the fact I’ve come away with a slight Scottish twang of an accent, 2 tattoos and 8 piercings... I am actually a person now. I’ve sat through the toughest therapy sessions, I’ve poured my heart out. I’ve felt vulnerable, I’ve had to let down my walls I had up so fixed against the world, and although it was a little forced at times, I learnt to give up my eating disorder. Go against it’s awful lies, orders and commands. 

I nearly lost my life to anorexia, multiple times. I was 19 when I was sectioned and I honestly wanted to die. It terrifies me that I was in such an awful place, and that I had resigned myself to my eating disorder.  I solely wanted to disappear. I fought everyone and anyone that tried to help me, it was the scariest and most confusing time of my life. Well, thank god I survived, thank god I got such incredible support and although it has taken ALONG time... I have finally made it to a point where I am able to be discharged from inpatient hospital treatment! 

I still have along way to go, and I’m aware this is where the hard work really begins. But I have fought for my life back, a real life now. For the first time in years, I feel free, because I AM!