Tag Archive: Dicing With Death


This week a young girl I was an inpatient with was cremated. A shockingly stark reminder of Anorexia’s power to take lives. It’s so easy to forget the facts. Eating Disorder charity BEAT are clear that “Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder, from medical complications associated with the illness as well as suicide. Research has found that 20% of anorexia sufferers will die prematurely from their illness”.

Hard to deny the seriousness of this illness. Yet, it is so often misunderstood and misjudged.

Star Fall – for S & C

Same sky, different star

Eighteen years

fly fast

Moon behind the clouds August 2015

Moon behind the clouds
August 2015

Sometimes glimpsed

on clearer nights

your incandescence

burning bright

Other times,  faded,

harder to see,

a thin ship to sail

on the widest of seas

Sometimes the darkness

covered your face

but couldn’t extinguish

the core of your blaze.

Now, I search the sky

ravage constellations

cry

eyes blind, stream like rain

calling to see

your star again

I reach out

tear black canvas

fingers finding

vacant nucleus

this dark hole,

from which your star fell.

And I howl

at the heavens

And the heavens say to me:

Cry not

for those who fall

for stars who drop

don’t land at all

At once caught up

by beams of sun

the point at which

we’re all begun.

Drawn close to heat

and now they shine

with greater brightness

all the time.

Firefly ©2015

Advertisements

… sometimes takes more courage than to continue a fight.

Image may be subject to copyright

Image may be subject to copyright

Sometimes it makes more sense to submit than to lose everything by fighting a battle you’re not equipped enough to survive.

That won’t please the shiny miracle brigade. Those who remarkably manage to cling to a hope that pays off once in a very blue moon. I’m not saying anything is impossible, just that suggesting that holding out hope can sometimes be a little like burying your head in the sand.

Believe me, this isn’t an easy thing to write on a blog referencing hope in the title; a blog whose very essence was supposed to be hope. A place which might offer encouragement to others, and help deepen understanding about the struggle of recovery, insight into the world of mental health and eating disorders.

However, it would be dishonest to spout rubbish about a recovery that I haven’t yet made. This is where I find myself; admitting defeat. I’ve had to have an honest look at No Man’s Land and an inventory of my fire power tells me that I need to regroup in order to stay alive.

I am being admitted to an ED inpatient unit on Monday. The admission is for a month, at least, so that they can prevent organ failure and minimise the risk of death that is posed by my current BMI. (Body Mass Index, for those who may not know, is a calculation of relative body mass and height, which gives an indication of where an individual is in terms of the healthy weight range of 20 – 25).

I’m lying in the trench, a little wounded and very weary. It has taken guts to submit. I’m losing the battle in the hope that I might still win the war. If I carry on fighting, there’s absolutely no chance.

Okay.

So I believe in the things I say. I believe in recovery. I believe in the possibility of turning things around. I believe that love triumphs over all. I believe that hope is the key to recovering and conquering our enemy. I believe in miracles, occasionally. I believe in the power of prayer. I believe that mindfulness is important and can help relieve the agony we can go through as sufferers of addiction and mental illness.

ImageHowever, that doesn’t mean that I’m in the best place to be dishing out advice.

Anorexia Nervosa has ruled my life for the past seven years and continues to do so.

I have relapsed. I am waiting to go back into treatment. This is imminent and will involve the indescribable mental torture of refeeding in a day unit setting.

I feel that I need to be honest in order to keep writing this blog.

I want to offer hope to others through my own determination to recover. I know that there will be times when I waver, stumble and fall. I know I will cry out in pain. I have been here before.

This time I want it to be the last.

I consider myself blessed to have the chance to recover as I recall those who have not survived the harsh and abusive regime of denial that leads to this extreme of malnutrition. Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of all mental illness and those of us who battle this illness, and so often give in to its cruel demands, forget just how easily our bodies could fail to keep running on empty.

If you’re thinking about recovery, I encourage you to take the scariest step and go for it,

Your body is not an inexhaustible resource.

This illness will make you dice with death in ways your rational self will not react to until it is allowed to surface.