.
NOT A ZOMBIE
31 Jan 2016
I ate over the weekend and feel like crap. My stomach feels bloated, my skin is bad. I’ve felt so low I haven’t gone out anywhere. I have this thought in my head that I’m so hideous – too hideous for people to see. Almost like they’d cringe or scream in fright if they saw me.
So I’ve stay in bed, or in the flat, watching stuff, working out, sketching, drinking tea, staring at the wall. I feel myself going into a downward spiral and I don’t know what to do about it. The world is so full of people who think they’re being helpful and wise by fixing sadness with happiness.
What an empty, fortune-cookie-wisdom nonsense that is. Happiness can feel sad and empty. It’s meaning we need, meaning we want. And we keep mistaking it for happiness. We keep thinking that ‘if I just think positively’, or ‘if I just get some good energy’, or ‘if I change my attitude’, everything will be fine.
But happiness is an over-glorified lie. I don’t want to be happy. I want more than happiness. I want meaning. I want truth. I want justice. I want sincere peace. I want validifying experiences and honesty that leads to freedom.
But attitude-focused, self-centred, vain, self-help bullshit is all I get from people who feels they’re friends enough with me to offer up advice. They actually think I haven’t tried 
it before. No, I have. I’ve tested everything from yoga to thinking exercises to psychology to self-help classes. But nothing…. nothing will fix the damage done to me. Nothing will fill the hole inside me. Nothing will heal the pain. It will just mute it, or dumb it down, or brush it under some distracting bit of carpet.
And I don’t want that sort of help. Because, after all, that’s not help is it. That is just a diversion.
No, I’d rather live honestly. In pain, but honestly. I’d rather feel and not be a zombie, acting like I’m ‘expected’ too. I’d rather struggle and battle than add to a dishonest, plastic society that further generates disingenuous relationships and personal loneliness.
Song of the day: I found my Way, by Jesse Taylor
One day at a time.
Aria |
FASTING AND LONDON IN THE WINTER
29 Jan 2016
The first day of fasting went well. I had a head ache and felt groggy at one point, but I went out for a walk in the cold London air that helped. It cleared my mind and muted my appetite. I’ve decided to extend the fast to today as well.
I feel ill, but I can also really feel toxins beings removed from my body, and that’s a good thought to have. Today I’ll push through, and if I get tired I’ll go out for another walk, or go to bed early. Sleep really helps a lot, and aids in the toxins-removal process.
This morning I had lemon water (to help clear my intestines), and used the remaining lemon juice as a face mask. I left the mask on for 15 minutes and then had a shower. My skin looked radient, tightened and lighter afterwards. I can recommend that.
I can also strongly recommend oil pulling – particularly with Organic Virgin Coconut Oil. It whitens your teeth, pulls out toxins, clears your skin, and definitely helps with keeping your mouth busy when you’re feeling hungry. Plus, many other benefits. It’s worked for me and even healed cavities.
Song of the day: Elastic Heart, Longfellow
One day at a time.
Aria |
EATING DISORDERS AREN’T DIETS
28 Jan 2016
I am so fat. I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I feel like my skin is awful, my hair flat and sad, my clothes feel so tight. I just want to cut it all away. The fat and the hair. I feel like everywhere I go people stare at me and how my fat jiggles when I move. Today I ate a bag of Doritos. I had a crazy moment and I dropped the ball. I have not been this furious at myself in a while. This needs to stop. Ana is not a diet, it’s a lifestyle choice.
From tomorrow, I’m going on a strict regime. Tomorrow I am fasting. On Friday I will have 3 days where I eat no more than 3 meals of 3 bites or less. Followed by another day of fasting. I will be skinny. My goal is to be 50kg by Christmas 2016.
Follow me on my journey. And feel free to write me. Tell me about your goal, or if you 
need someone to help you stay on track and be accountable to. I’ll try to respond to as many people as possible.
I’ve read it takes 2 weeks for you to feel the difference, and 4 weeks for you to see the difference in your body. So I’m going hard from now until the 24th of Feb.
This is day one and I haven’t eaten anything after 6:30pm. Thats a good start. Now I just need to drink a lot of water, and go to bed early.
Song of the day: Bay of Naples, by Eric Margan and The Red Lions
One day at a time.
Aria |
NOT OK
27 Jan 2016
Today I woke up at 6am to stormy, rainy weather. The last thing I wanted to do was go out for a run in the rainy, dark city. So I went swimming instead. Swimming is one of the highest calorie burners, and it goes easier on the knees and joints.
I did laps and burned 500 calories in an hour. Afterwards I was so tired my legs were shaking as I walked back to the changing room.
I hadn’t planned to eat today, but after the swim, as I sat drying off in the changing room, I nearly blacked out. There was a middle aged lady there who was watching me. She said “You look a bit pale, love. You alright?” I wanted to shout “No!” but I nodded and muttered I was just getting over a cold. She seemed satisfied with the answer. I ended up going back to my flat and having an apple.
I arrived early at the studio and managed to make major progress on my current piece before lunch time came ’round. I love being there on my own, in the silent, spacious hall, heavy with the scent of paint and wood and cotton canvas. With the rain still coming down, I unwrapped my painting and placed it on an easel, and let my creativity begin to flow. Art, for me, is like music or working out. It allows me to immerse myself, to disappear beneath its waves. And the world around me becomes more dim and distant.
My boss expects the piece to be done and ready for the Gallery opening we’re having next month. The theme of the exhibition will be ‘Gold and Earth’. I think I should be able to be done with my painting by then.
I’m very fortunate to have the job I do. In many ways, it’s a young artist’s dream. Many independent artists have to do their work at home, and then hope someone will buy their pieces or, in the least, exhibit them. My job grants me a studio to work in, and also a Gallery that guarantees to exhibit my work (if I do a good job). I know I’m lucky.
After the apple this morning, I’ve been filling up on green tea and cups of coffee. I won’t eat anything more today. I feel pretty good today, and I’m proud that I managed to eat only an apple.
Also, here’s a little tip: tic tacs. If you’re fasting, or limiting your meals, tic tacs are low in calories and good at keeping your mouth busy. Also, the mint ones mute your hunger. I feel like I’m getting closer to my weight goal. It feels good to be hungry. And it feels good to paint.
Song of the day: Thaw, by Jim Perkins, Vaughan Jones, Tony Wollard
One day at a time.
Aria |
.
MY NARCISSIST FRIEND
26 Jan 2016
I used to have a friend. We’ll call him S. Because I was in a very bad place a few years ago, and due to a major lapse in judgement on my part, I told him about the abuse I’d experienced at home.
I was ignorant to mistake his interest for care, only to later find out that S is the type of person who enjoys drama. He actually enjoys collecting messed up people around him, and then feels good about himself as he’s elevated to a position of superior Counsellor. He chooses friends he considers lower than himself, which he in time manipulates, controls, and even bullies. I deeply regret trying to be his friend, or telling him something so vulnerable.
Do you know what his reaction to me telling him about my father was? He looked at me like “Who would ever want you that bad? C’mon, you’re not that desirable.” A few months later when I was hospitalised, his comment was “What meds have they got you on? Well don’t stay in the hospital bed for too long. We wouldn’t want you getting fat.” And after that he said one day: “I suppose you don’t mind being overweight. That way you don’t feel like men would be a threat to you, and they won’t look at you.” And sometimes, as I tried opening up about the abuse, he would lean forward and ask questions, probing me for details like he was watching porn or something.
S is not in my life anymore. One less narcissistic bully.
There are people aside from S that I regret telling. It’s not that I’ve told so many people. I haven’t. In fact I’ve told very few people. Ever. Most of them have been told by others. Until now, as I’m trying to open up strangers. But this is different. Those I’ve told, I’ve often regretted telling because they’ve not cared, or blamed me, or used the information against me, or just not cared to understand.
It’s best to pick very carefully who you tell anything vulnerable to. You probably wouldn’t hand £500 over to a stranger for no reason. Why would you hand over a piece of your heart? Is that not far more valuable?
Song of the day: Exile Villify, by The Nationals
One day at a time.
Aria |
NUMBERS
25 Jan 2016
Today I could only think about numbers. They swam around in my head like hungry sharks, snapping at my other thoughts. I counted calories, counted kilos, counted days, counted centimetres, counted cups of water, counted tears, counted breaths.
I feel so tired. It’s like one day I became so fed up with my painful life that I escaped into a world of eating disorders and control. And even though it was painful in this other world, it was a different, better sort of pain than the first one. Because in the second world I was at least in control. Here it is I who inflict the pain. Here I am the villain. I say ‘when’. I say how.
Then there are days like this one when I want to leave this second place I’ve escaped into. Because this world is hard and cold and harsh. And I’m not a benevolent ruler at all. Rather a tyrant.
But then I remember the alternative. I remember the fear and pain in a world where I’m an abuse victim, where I am bullied and small and bruised and weak. I remember a world where I feel choked and out of control because other people have taken over, and are dictating my every move. I remember the first world and I say: “Nope. I think I’ll stay in this new world. The alternative is far worse.”
Song of the day: Comes and Goes in Waves, 2013 Remaster, by Greg Laswell
One day at a time.
Aria |
STOMPING ON YOUR PHONE
24 Jan 2016
This morning I woke feeling groggy and under the weather. I went for an hour’s swim, followed by a brief shower and a big jug of lemon water which I gulped down on the way to work. The studio was pretty peaceful as many of the curators are off this week on a training week. That allows us hired artists to work in more peace.
By lunch I hated myself. I had eaten 500 cals and felt like garbage. What a shitty day. I will have to rein myself in a lot harder tomorrow.
But I keep reminding myself that just because you drop the ball, it doesn’t mean you should give up. If you binge or slip up, remember that going ‘fuck it’ isn’t the answer. That’s like dropping your phone on the floor and then going “ah, well. It’s done now,” and stomping on it.
One day at a time.
Aria |
WATER
23 Jan 2016
Only water for me today. After my ex, Ron’s comments last night, I feel down and empty. So my stomach should be too. Will use my day off to have a Harry Potter Marathon and stay in bed.
It’s funny how other’s words – even from people one cares nothing for – can have such a profound effect on us. I will curl into a ball and hope today passes quickly. And that it rains. It helps when it rains. It’s like the world is being washed.
One day at a time.
Aria |
.
ALLY’S BIRTHDAY PARTY
22 Jan 2016 – Evening
Hey everyone. I’m back from Ally’s birthday party. I’m in bed, under the covers (my flat’s freezing). London was foggy and biting cold as I exited the party location and caught a taxi home. Riding home I stared out the window at the London Bridge and the inky Thames. Truth is, I left the party a bit early.
Ally has been my friend since middle school, although she’s been quite caught up in her own life recently – too much so to be keeping up with mine. Which is perhaps better than the alternative. Last year Ally was engaged, but she found out that her fiance was cheating on her with her sister. (Yes, it’s like a soap opera.) Not only that, but her sister was pregnant.
As to be expected, Ally went through a really hard time. I think she felt like she needed to reinvent herself – like she needed to be someone else. So she went from Goth to Valley Girl in a week, swapping out the black dresses for Ugg boots, mini Jeans skirts and spray-on tan. My red-haired friend turned he hair platinum blonde, and her interior steered towards a screaming pink. Maybe it was because she wanted to forget her past life. Maybe it was because she wanted to be the type of girl no-one would leave again.
Seeing her at the party today, in a pink leather mini-dress and stiletto heels, I hardly recognised her. I couldn’t help but wonder if I looked different to her too. In the past 4 months I’ve lost 7 more kg, and my frame is smaller than ever. Whether Ally notices the changes in me or not, she was not in mood for deep conversations these days. It’s as if she doesn’t want to slow down for a moment, because then she’ll remember, and then it will hurt. She’s more in the mood for drowning her sorrows all night. ‘Another year older’, she said, and took a huge slug of wine. Ally was begging me to drink, but I managed to keep declining successfully. She didn’t seem very happy.
I met my ex at the party too – Ron. Although I knew he was going to be there, I didn’t expect our meeting to be so tense. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since we broke up last September. We broke up because it turned out he was still hung up on an ex girlfriend of his. A week after we broke up he got back together with her. She was, however, not at the party tonight. I didn’t ask. Ron just swaggered up to me, forgetting I know when he’s trying to flirt, and in a tipsy daze told me I looked “fucking hot” in my dress. I brushed him off with a few pleasantries and made for the bathroom.
Despite my escape attempt, Ron followed after me. He blocked my access to the bathroom entrance and blurted: “Ari, you look good. What you been doing – starving yourself?” I pushed him aside, entered the bathroom, locked myself inside a stall, and sobbed into my handbag.
I didn’t want him to notice me. I didn’t want to see him at all. I didn’t want to call me out. Of course I am starving myself. But my struggles shouldn’t be dragged so recklessly across his lips. Especially by someone I know longer know or have a relationship with.
After I stopped crying, I cleaned my make-up up, and left the party without saying goodbye to Ally. Last thing I saw on my way out, was her grinding up against a middle-aged boss’ leg.
So now I’m lying on the floor with woolly socks on, drowning in a baggy batman sweater. I don’t really mind freezing that much. The cold makes me feel better, somehow.
I regretted going to the party. I looked good, felt good even, at the beginning of the afternoon as I left the house, catching my reflection in the mirror. My stomach was flat, my arms thinner. But it turned out to be a lousy time. And now I feel low. It was one of those events that starts out classy and turns into just another cheap 70’s disco impersonation. People were eager to dance, and once the DJ finally put a record on, most of the guests were drunk enough to not mind looking like idiots.
As I lie here, I can’t help but wonder about the ‘reformations’ that we drag ourselves through. When we want to move beyond something painful, we try to reinvent ourselves. Like Ally’s Valley girl reinvention, or Ron’s loose-and-cool facade, or my own dressed-up masquerade. Maybe behind our masks, we’re all broken or hurting or running from something. Maybe we’re Cinderella’s at a party, and soon the magic will wear off, and the pumpkin returns to being just a pumpkin, and we return to our woolly socks and our messy hair bun.
I’m going to make myself some tea and fall asleep to music while the candle in the window fades.
One day at a time.
Ally |
.
MY RED DRESS
22 Jan 2016
Here is a picture of the dress I’m wearing to my friend, Ally’s, party. It was designed by an upstarting clothes fashion designer in London called Brooke Shutter. She’s amazing.
I’m feeling better today. I haven’t eaten and I feel better than I have in a while. An empty stomach always brings me a feeling of comfort. But my hands are freezing.
I am a bit weary of people trying to get me to eat, but I think it should be ok as long as I move around the room and keep busy.
Ally does know how to throw a party.
My song of the day is: “Breathe In’, by Frou Frou.
One day at a time.
Aria |
SPARROW
21 Jan 2016
Today I spent 6 hours working at the studio. Surrounded by paint brushes and canvas and other artists, I gladly drown in the creative atmosphere. I am currently working on a piece where I’m using gold acrylic paint to complement luxurious tones of burgundy and royal blue in my painting. Works helps me get my mind of things. And off my hunger. Busy is good. Sometimes I can’t stand being alone in my flat in the city. Other days that’s all I want to be.
My boss jokes that I’m like a little ‘sparrow who only nibbles at food when someone’s watching’, but really just wants to fly away. If she only knew how accurate that was.
I carry fruit-infused water around with me everywhere, which helps a bit with the energy levels and the perception that I’m health conscious as opposed to have Anorexia.
Yesterday I felt really weak and nearly passed out climbing the stairs to my place on the fifth floor. But I’d been having really bad flashbacks, and I can’t stand the thought of a big meal. I needed a feeling of control over my life. So I had a cup of tea with a tbsp of honey and cinnamon in it. That went a long way, as well as warmed me up slightly.
I got really discouraged during last week, because I ate two sandwiches with a friend, plus pasta, and felt bloated all day. But today all that went away as I slipped into the dress I’ve been dying to buy for forever. It finally fits me. And is even a bit loose. I have to say, despite the struggle, these moments are so satisfying. I bought the dress for a party my friend’s having tomorrow. I’m going to look great. Even if it just lasts for a moment.
My song of the day: Silent Way, Milo Green
One day at a time.
Aria |
HAVING ANOREXIA
2o Jan 2016
In the winter of 2007 I was diagnosed with Anorexia.
My mother got on my case when she saw me pushing the food around on my plate night after night and I lost the first 10kg.
Then I moved away from home, and that gave me a lot more freedom to live how I wanted to.
I still have Anorexia. I am presently 172cm tall and weigh 70kg.
I was told that my eating disorder was a result of abuse experienced as a child, and that the only way to solve the eating disorder ‘problem’ was to go to therapy and work through the abuse problem. That didn’t surprise me at all.
But when someone talks about ‘working through’ abuse, it proves to me that they don’t understand or relate to any aspect of abuse at all. It isn’t something you work through. It isn’t a disease to cure. It isn’t something you fix or solve or wipe away, to sterilise or make less gruesome. It’s just there. Like a scar. And sometimes the scar rips open into the wound it was. You don’t get fixed, you live in pain. And feeling it is comforting, because at least you’re reacting in the right way towards it. It’s better than being numb and not feeling anything.
Here’s the thing: you’re supposed to feel pain about it. It’s supposed to hurt. There are some awful shit in this world, and, if you’re an empathetic, normal, sane human being, you will scream and cry and kick and rage against that darkness with all your might. It will make you feel sick to the stomach and leave you heaving for air as it stabs you again and again. It shouldn’t be nodded at in neutral therapy rooms and summed up in mathematical reports and equations.
Being in pain is a healthy reaction to that sort of thing. And I don’t want to run away from the pain, or sweep it under the carpet or pretend like it isn’t there anymore. I don’t want to be controlled, and I don’t want to be handled. I don’t need any more intrusion into my life, my feelings, my secret, fragile spaces. I just want to be honest with myself. And therapy is not for me. I know others it has helped, but it always leaves me worse off afterwards than before.
The last thing I need to being treated clinically and patronising by yet another fucking ignorant ‘professional’. I am not a statistic or just another victim. I am unique. I think each abuse victim must feel like no-one else has felt exactly what they went through in the history of the Universe. And they’d be right. Because each experience is unique – like a stand-alone event. Just because atrocities are common, doesn’t mean they should be normalised. And I don’t want to sit and talk to someone who has become indifferent or detached due to over-exposure to similar stories. No.
I didn’t need someone to tell me that Ana was a result of my past. I had that basic self-insight to see that. At the time that Ana entered my life, I needed a way to regain a feeling of control in my life. I wanted to shrink and become small – till I disappeared completely. And I wanted to replace the pain I was feeling inside with any other feeling. Any feeling at all. Hunger pains were a relief to my emotional pain. And cutting became a form of relief too.
I also found some joy in my art. Having worked as a model in London for a year, it allowed me to embrace Ana fully, and focus on it 24/7.
Many people judge me harshly for talking about Ana, or being proAna. I get that they don’t understand the complexities of different types of pain, or hating yourself and your body so much you don’t care what happens to it.
I find comfort in being cold all the time, in being small, in disappearing inside clothing and looking at my collar bones and bony fingers. I know this form of release is not perfect, but it’s what I have. Ana is a drug to me, and I’ll gladly get high on it.
Well, that was personal stuff, but I’m trying to be more honest about my life and what I’m going through.
Song of the day: People, by Kye Kye
One day at a time.
Aria |
ARIA FOR ARIA 