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MY WHITE HAIR
20th June 2016
Ever since I cut my long, black hair into a bob, getting ready has been so much easier. It’s freeing and feels different. Each time I shampoo, I reach back to grab long locks, and am instead surprised by the bare nape of my neck.
I had such bad memories and connotations from having long hair. I don’t even know why I kept it so long. But now that I’m 30 cm lighter, I’ve also been playing around with the thought of white hair.
I just don’t want to look like my ‘residual self-image’. I want to look, feel, be different.I might seriously get white hair next week.
Song of the day: Babylon, by Jesiah
One day at a time.
Aria |
MY DAILY ROUTINE
16th June 2016
A daily routine has set in, like a murmur in my bones. I wake up, pull some comfy clothes
on, down a tall glass of lemon water, and go out walking the streets of London city just before dawn. At that time of day the city feels emptied out, and it whispers magic.
An hour later I return back to my flat (Eastside). I take a shower, have tea while my hair dries, feed Bagheera (my cat) and Gatsby (my bunny), and then I go through the arduous trial of picking out an outfit I don’t hate. This is usually the worst task of my day because I have to look at myself in the mirror. Usually this crashes my whole confidence-system with a magnificent bang.
I cycle to work, from the Eastside of London, into the central city where the art studio lies. I usually get in before anyone else. Only the cleaners are there, silently mopping the floors or wiping down the dusty surfaces.
The art studio I work at has two levels. The ground floor is an art gallery, where commissioned artist’s works are showcased monthly. And upstairs is where the studio is.
My outfit for today. Love these trousers.
My boss had the great vision of incorporating an upstairs work environment for artists with the gallery downstairs. So she hires artists she likes, and they work in the upstairs studio. She takes 25% of our commission, and we get to work in a fully-outfitted art studio.
The studio always smells heavily of paint and white spirit in the morning. It’s a bit intoxicating. I throw open the windows, find my pencils, set up my easel, pop music in my ears, and get started. The emotion I feel after the end of my work day ranges from euphorically thrilled, to devastated. But I’ve heard this roller coaster is not uncommon in artists. I’ve been working as a full time painter for 4 yours, and the insecurity about my work never changes.
I avoid people at lunch. Some of the other artists like to go out together, to a pub or cafe. I avoid environments where I have to eat around people. The last thing I want is questions or unwanted attention. So I usually cycle to the park, or a cafe a bit further away. I try to 
avoid conversations and cornered interactions. Usually I succeed. But every time I’m out around people I feel like I’m a deer being hunted. I try to breathe and keep the anxiety to a mild roar.
Around 4pm I return home. Sometimes I stop by the store or the flower market on my way. Flower markets are one of my havens. Flowers and plants are better than chocolate and Christmas put together. Since my eating disorder began, I have tried to reward myself with something other than snacks or food. Flowers and magazines have generously filled that gap.
Once at home I soak in a bath, or go for a run. On a bad day I crash on my mattress (I sleep on a mattress in the middle of my living room instead of in my bedroom), and watch 
anime or old movies, or listen to vinyls.
So that’s my routine. I’m not sure if having this routine is increasing my daily efficiency, or is just a way to keep myself going. The Anorexia is worse than ever, and a big part of me doesn’t mind. I weigh myself twice a day. I’ve lost 4 kg since I started back at work again. I drink a lot of water and tea, and barely eat. Sometimes I have bouts of insomnia and anxiety attacks. I either seem to be crying or feeling numb. The PTSD symptoms are still bad.
I can’t think too far ahead into the future. I’ll just go to bed tonight, and tomorrow morning I’ll throw some comfy clothes on, down a glass of lemon water, and head out into the silent streets of London.
Song of the day: Fighting, by The Holy Coast
One day at a time.
Aria |
An Eating Disorder is not Narcissism
12th July 2016
I have often heard it said that Anorexia, or any eating disorder, is directly linked with narcissism or the sufferer being too shallow or superficial. It is this sort of misinformation and ignorance on the topic that harms.
Eating disorders, such as anorexia, binge eating and bulimia, cannot simply be attributed to any singular causation. On the contrary, these conditions are the product of a blend of multiple genetic, neurological, sociological, environmental, cultural, psychological and interpersonal factors. And very importantly, these underlying tendencies are generally trigged by a specific life event or trauma.
In my case, I suffer from Complex PTSD. PTSD stands for ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’. It was first a condition discovered in soldiers and veterans of war. Even though the soldier returned home after war, they suffered a list of symptoms as a result of the trauma they had been through. Since then, it has been realised that if an event, or a series of events, are traumatised enough, it can produce PTSD in others such as abuse victims. I fall into this category. I suffered abuse by my father since I was very young.
I subsequently have Complex PTSD and developed Bulimia, which later turned into Anorexia.
While body image concerns may have a contributory role in the development of an eating disorder, the level of dissatisfaction that a sufferer experiences with his/her own body is abnormally extreme – to the degree that it actually amounts to self-loathing – and 
accompanied by an overwhelming fear of becoming fat. This feeling is not necessarily linked to anything shallow or superficial. Rather, it is often linked to control. When a person feels he or she has lost all control over their life, they try to make up for it in other areas.
In my case, for example, I couldn’t stop the abuse at home. I couldn’t escape to anywhere. I now don’t know how to control the self-loathing I feel because of the abuse. All I could control, all I feel I can control, is eating. It’s a way to take back control after my body was in the control of someone else for so long.
Anorexia is a very insidious illness in that typically what begins as a desire to be healthier, fitter or thinner, or as maladaptive ‘coping mechanism’ (controlling food intake to achieve mastery over one area of life), quickly escalates into obsessive, self-punishing and out-of-control behaviour, which is driven, upheld and sustained by a constant, relentless internal, highly persuasive and domineering internal monologue that convinces the sufferer that he/she must do everything possible to avoid eating and gaining weight.
Narcissism? It is quite the opposite. Anorexia shares none of the characteristics commonly associated with a narcissistic personality di
sorder. Narcissism is an inflated sense of self-importance and an insatiable desire for attention and admiration. Indeed, completely opposite to Narcissism, a person with an eating disorder will do everything possible to avoid being noticed. They will go to great lengths to hide, disguise or deny their behaviour, while simultaneously being locked in a misery of self-hatred, guilt, shame and loneliness. Anorexia is trying to be tiny and hide. Narcissism is asking for attention.
Very sadly, many suffering from eating disorders are accused of being ‘attention seeking’. Often by members of their family or friend circle. Can you try to imagine how damaging and painful this is? Those words are the last a sufferer needs to hear. And it’s the opposite of the truth.
Song of the day: Home II, by Dotan
One day at a time.
Aria |
WHAT IT’S LIKE BEING TORN IN TWO
6th June 2016
I’ve once more settled into a routine. I get up, go to work, try to get through the day, come home, consider eating (and usually don’t), and end up 
soaking in a bath tub or listening to music.
It’s been 3 days since I’ve eaten and I’m feeling weak. But also proud of myself. I keep saying this – having an eating disorder is like feeling torn and ripped in two. You constantly have conflicting thoughts and opinions. You think you should be eating, but you think you shouldn’t be. You think you need to be skinny, but you think you ought to be taking care of yourself. You’re hungry but you want to starve. You feel beautiful and ugly. You know you’re losing weight and you feel fatter than ever. It’s about how you look, and it’s not about that at all.
Anorexia is a war. An invisible, internal war that is so fierce and so exhausting it sometimes knocks the wind out of me.
Song of the day: Loss, by Phoria
One day at a time.
Aria |
CUTTING OFF A PART OF ME
3 July 2016
I’ve decided to cut my hair.
I’ve had long, black hair for years now. I’ve wanted to cut it for a long because it reminds me of painful things. I don’t know why I haven’t done it yet. Perhaps because it’s been a part of me for so 
long. Perhaps that’s why it needs to go.
This weekend I’m cutting off those long strands in favour of a bob. Somehow, I feel like cutting one’s hair is a sign of a new beginning, or a shedding or off of something. Like a snake sheds it’s skin, or a tree it’s leaves.
I feel nervous about it, but I feel like it’s time for something new. I considered cutting my hair back when I was working as a model. But I was asked not to since long hair was the look they wanted for me at the time.
As I walked home from the hair dressers I felt lighter somehow. I stuck my head phones in my ears and listened to music. It put a spring in my step. It was sunny and I found myself actually smiling. People who passed me must have thought I was high or something. Well, I did feel high. High on the release of change. High on the release of being able to let go of old patterns, even if it was just in a tiny way.
Me walking home from the hair dressers.
My friends used to tell me off in the past when I considered cutting my hair. They said it’d made me look less feminine. They said that it wouldn’t suit me, and that long hair was more sexy and becoming. Having Anorexia and already being unsure of my looks, I listened to their opinions like it was absolute law. Now, as I look back at it, all I can say is: “Shut you, idiots.” How ignorant they were. How shallow and foolish and idiotic. Sometimes I cringe at the sort of people I have allowed to dictate my behaviour via their moronic words and looks.
Song of the day: Silver Hair, by Boom Forrest
One day at a time.
Aria |
LIE OR SHOCK THEM WITH THE TRUTH?
1 June 2016
I returned to work on Monday. And I have such mixed feelings about it.
Returning to work after a month’s sick leave is bound of produce questions in colleagues. When you struggle with Complex PTSD and Anorexia, questions are the last thing you want sauntering your way.
On Monday morning I put on my favourite outfit, cycled through London’s busy city streets, and arrived at the art studio before anyone else. I wanted to be there nice and early – to be settled in at my easel with music in my ears and my face wearing a big ‘don’t disturb’ sign.
Being inaccessible proved to be easier than I expected. As more and more artists leaked in through the front doors, I aimed at focusing on my work. My current painting project hasn’t seen attention from me for a while, and it took time and concentration to ease back i
nto the vision I had for it a month ago. And no-one disturbed me.
It wasn’t before lunch when Sally and Yorke caught me in the hallway and asked if I was alright. Even after years of struggling with an eating disorder and hiding the abuse I suffered at home, I still don’t know what to do – should I lie or should I shock them with the truth?
“I”m much better,” I lied.
Song of the day: Still I Try, by The Honey Trees.
One day at a time.
Aria |
ARIA FOR ARIA 