Why We Need to be Mindful in a Mindless World

Source: http://www.youryogastudio.co.uk

Although I didn’t technically make any new year’s resolutions, I’ve always known in the back of my restless mind that I need to get out more. Depression feeds off the loneliness and solitude that we give it, and being depressed means we crave loneliness and solitude. Yep, so you can see how deep of a ‘rut’ us depressed folks get ourselves into. So, on the 2nd January 2015, one day after the demise of my relationship, I took a crisp winter walk and went into efficiency mode, picking up literally any pamphlet I laid my eyes on, because I wanted to be just that; the person who picks up pamphlets. The person who embraces the world.

Despite the pamphlets being a total waste of time as I reviewed their contents once back home, this whole business of looking into evening classes spurred me on, and I went online. Which is probably what I should have done in the first place but there was just something about picking up those pamphlets that made me feel independent and decisive, a woman on a mission, a woman about town. A woman who so care free she has all the time in the world for pamphlets! But that said, I already had an idea of what I was after; Mindfulness. You might think Mindfulness as that hipster buzzword, associated with those who attend farmer’s markets to purchase their locally grown organic plum chutney and browse the latest in hemp fashion, but actually, it’s an ancient meditation technique that Buddhism meditation was formed on. Being practiced around the world since 1500 BCE, different religions have endeavoured in Mindfulness techniques to seek inner peace and understanding, but in modern, urban communities, it’s largely practiced to help people cope with anxiety and stress, training the mind to be calm and at peace. If I could have one thing in life, it would probably be peace and overall contentment, so yes, I wanted in.

What is Mindfulness?

In its Buddhist context, mindfulness has three main purposes; knowing the mind, training the mind, and freeing the mind. Essentially, it’s about being aware of the present moment and having non-judgmental thoughts about ourselves and situations. Mindfulness is a practice, comprised of formal meditations and a range of techniques that can be integrated into our daily lives to help us become more – you guessed it – ‘mindful’. The end goal is to have peace of mind and the way to get there is through mindfulness practice and meditation. Our thoughts often wander and concentrating on one thing seems almost laughable in today’s society, so Mindfulness techniques help to bring the mind and your thoughts to the here and now, focusing on the sounds outside and inside of the room, our bodies and our breathing. Dubbed the new caffeine, Mindfulness improves productivity through enhancing awareness and patience, training our minds to listen before we act.

Why do we need Mindfulness?

Although used to help people overcome anxiety and stress, Mindfulness practices are designed to improve our overall mental wellbeing, which is something the entire world could benefit from. Our world moves at such a fast past; our desires having to be met instantaneously, information delivered to us in less than 2 clicks, and relationships hurried along to progress after 1 week. Take that, along with the fact that all of these smart devices have us juggling ten things at once; emails, social media, videos, social calendars.

We need constant gratification from our online conversations that it’s almost impossible not to launch at our phones when we notice a flicker of light from our peripheral vision, that all encompassing notification that somebody has interacted with a tweet or status or photo. Careers are becoming more stressful, as many jobs expect more output for the same pay. Relationships are becoming more intense as they’re displayed online for the world to see, judge and scrutinise. We all have something to prove and we’re trying to function when our head space is at full capacity, constantly thinking about something. Worrying about something. Imagining something based on our irrational fears. Do we ever. Just. Stop? When was the last time you sat down for an entire evening and relaxed? Even when we do have days where we come home and refuse to do the chores, chances are we’ll be subconsciously judging ourselves because we didn’t do the washing up or cut the grass or whatever that unimportant thing might have been. Life expects us to be at full pace without any give; a fully charged, multi-tasking robot, efficiently handling all of these tasks that society has thrown at us without so much as a thought to whether human beings are designed to live this way.

Source: wbsm.com

I see the problem as that we’re not making enough time for ourselves. Yes, we’re all technically doing things, and stuff, but are we making at least half an hour in the day where we reflect, notice and look at ourselves and the world? Probably not. Thirty minutes is a lot to ask for these days. I constantly crave my own space because I find the hectic social order unbearable sometimes, but what I am doing with that space and time isn’t healthy, or mindful. I choose to scroll through the hell that is social media, a battleground for opinions, defences and judgements, and most of the time I come out of the other end covered in emotional war wounds with a loss of faith in humanity. I do this at the same time as having several Whatsapp conversations bleeping on my phone. Also, I’ve got my Kindle next to me with massive intentions to unwind and get lost in a fantasy word, set in turn of the century New York. Another intention was to watch a nature documentary, that I’ve now muted in the background because I came across a prank video that I felt utterly compelled to watch.

I have the attention span of a teaspoon. And I don’t think I am the only one. Focusing on nothing, or even just one thing, opens up Pandora’s box in my mind and releases my subconscious, screaming and thrashing about in a straight jacket, just hoping for somebody to loosen the straps just a little. When I try to go to sleep, she doesn’t stop. When I try and watch a film alone, she’s still screaming. It’s a constant barrage of negativity and conjured up future scenarios. But staring into the abyss of a smartphone doesn’t cease the cries; it just drowns her out for short periods of time, antagonising her further.

Mindfulness trains our mind to bring our attention to one thing at a time, and to just be aware of our feelings or bodily tension without resistance. For example, when brushing my teeth I like to potter about, choose what to wear for the day – because doing a menial task requires little thinking, and the girl in the straight jacket in my head would use this open opportunity to bring dread and worry to my thoughts, as she’d play out another of her stressful scenarios. However Mindfulness would say to just stand still and brush your teeth, being aware of your body and its actions, merely concentrating on your brushing technique. Whilst this may seem amateur, it’s a lot harder than you’d think.

Source: http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk

Is Mindfulness right for me?

It’s not voodoo – you don’t need a tuft of your ex partner’s hair or the toenail of a minotaur to make Mindfulness work. There are many gentle, soothing, guided meditations online and the only thing required is an open mind – ahem – and a chair. Even if you don’t suffer with anxiety, stress encounters us all at some point, and meditation seems the most human way to help combat our feelings of worry. However, Mindfulness is not a quick remedial fix. It’s a way of life. Why do you think Buddhists are collectively so calm and harmonious, level headed and at peace? I’d be willing to bet on my entire existence that it’s because they’re investing time in mindful walks, mindful listening and mindful breathing – not because they received 100 Likes on their latest Facebook update.

I may sound like a preacher here, suddenly an advocate for Mindfulness after a few measly sessions, but the principle of it all, just makes sense. The world seems to be propelled by super fast WiFi and coffee, so it’s only right we slow down and take a minute to let our shoulders sag and feel the pressure melt away and dissolve into the ground. It makes sense to take time to notice ourselves and surroundings, as there’s so much confusion and hype to get lost in. The world will still spin as madly and wildly as it always has done at 1,040 mph – you don’t have to imitate it.

Check out Mindspace for loads of online resources and information about Mindfulness courses and retreats 🙂 

Why Moving Out Isn’t Just About Freedom – It’s About Letting Go

The first weekend of living on my own is over, but this whole experience means more to me than just acquiring my freedom entitlements. It means letting a piece of me go. A piece that denied me of any freedom but a piece that I trusted and obeyed all the same.

So much room for activities.

Having lived with my mom for, literally, all of my existence – apart from the 5 month travelling gap in Australia – I was desperately itching to acquire some freedom. I felt claustrophobic in a massive house; cooped up in that bedroom, adorned with nuggets and trinkets of my past was slowly suffocating me. Although the rent was cushy – zero, ahem – and chores were distributed nice and evenly across my mother’s schedule – ahem – I had to get out.

I had to let go of what was safe and familiar. Moving out is always going to be a form of escapism, as we wish to embark upon our lives, pretending to be adult by having a constant supply of alcohol in and precariously placing books you convince yourself that you have read and really loved, onto a bookcase for all to see. I will admit, all of this show business did excite me. But rather than acquiring freedom so as to have my mates over whenever I like, or abandon the ‘take your shoes off when you come in’ policy with immediate action, it’s been as much about my loss than it has my gain.

Eating disorders generally derive out of past or repressed emotions, that cling to your person like a starved leech. The young, little girl inside of me who never felt good enough for anyone or anything was manifesting my old bedroom. She still lives in my head and rules a lot of my thinking, but at least now she’s not scattered all over my space in the form of stuffed animals, notes and cards from the days of Yore and bags of binge food not-so-subtly hidden under my bed. I had to escape her, in all of her shapeshifting ways. I will never be free of her, as she resides in my core and forms the basis of my understanding on the world, but I had to shake free at least one hand that was encapsulated in her cold, lifeless grip.

Although I have endured some form of loss through moving out, it’s one I feel at peace with. No longer does my ED paraphernalia stare at me from four walls, taunting me about my unworthy existence as I remained imprisoned in its constraints. Instead I look around and I see something that I have achieved – a reward for my efforts that maybe took more mental strength than the average person. I see an adult – albeit a slightly pretend one. I see freedom – albeit one that came at a cost. I see me, instead of the young, little girl.

2015: The Year of Doors Opening

Image by Camdiluv

It’s been a while since I have blogged like this; updating the WordPress community about my whereabouts in this chaos we call life. But several things with significant importance have occurred since the clock struck midnight on new year’s eve. Despite being only 26 days in, I have experienced a break up, a promotion, (soon-to-be) moving out and a small, but confidence inducing, creative opportunity. 2015 is definitely going to be one to remember.

New year’s day began with a breakup. My one and half year relationship finally surpassed its display by, sell by and use by date. He was a massive impact upon my life and he taught me a lot, and although normally beyond my usual coping mechanisms of sinking back into severe depression, I aim to see the good in this ‘conscious uncoupling’. So far it’s been working well for me. Life is a book, and I’m only several chapters in – it would be criminal not to endeavour in more adventures and write the best book I possibly can. It’s this mantra I am trying hard to grapple on to and really try to understand and practice. Although ending something at the time feels like armageddon, if you focus so hard on the door that’s just closed, you’ll never find the ones that are open just waiting for you to walk through and embrace the contents within.

And that’s exactly what happened – yes this post is going to be cheesy and cliche as fuck. The first door was almost thrust in my face and I had to walk through it, although its path is still unknown to me. I received a promotion at work, which is great. Ka-ching! It also means I have senior in my job title – like I said, we’ll play this door by ear and see how much this benefits me in the future. Writing is my passion and I barely do an ounce of it in my job, but the recognition of my hard work, creativity and progress has been duly noted and I’ll try not to find a negative in it. (Sorry, I already have)

However the next door is one filled with excitement, apprehension, anxiety, dread, happiness, freedom and maybe loneliness. Sounds as though I should run very far away from this door doesn’t it? It definitely is a scary leap, but one I hope I land on my feet with. At the ripe old age of 23 I am finally fleeing the nest. To some reading, you might feel as though I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome, however living with a mental health disorder makes even the simplest of tasks completely overwhelming, let alone saying goodbye to the comfort of my bedroom. But it’s this very room which is potentially destroying me, closing in on me and amplifying my anxiety and depression, not to mention the eating disorder. This room that I have practically lived out of for 12 years brings mixed emotions. It is safe. But it is also a reminder of the girl I became. This room is associated with binges and purges, panic attacks and meltdowns. This room has starved me of so many things, as I obeyed it’s pull on me to remain solitary and silent. In this room, time stands still – with each minute I remain here I am not growing or progressing, I just exist.

I am hoping that moving out into my own place will uplift me out of depression and help me focus on the positivity in the world. I hope to write more, as writing in this room is so hard. The strength I need to pick up my laptop and write is overbearing. I need space. I am hoping to see more of my friends. I hope to engage in more social activities instead of being drawn back to the safe, impending magnet that is this room. I hope to immerse myself more in the cultures that I wish to endeavour in, and that brings me swiftly on to my final door that has unlocked itself for me this year. If you follow my blog you’ll be aware that I write poetry, however in the past 6 months or so I’ve felt an urge to pursue this more than I am already. I ensure to update my online portfolio and even entered a competition with a piece of poetry written as spoken word – I feel as though I have already won despite what happens, as pressing ‘submit’ has been such a battle in the past that my mental health always triumphed and I’d store the file away in my computer never to be looked at again.

My poetry is something I actually feel proud of and I received some small, but happy news today that I have been approached to be involved in a new theatre project for autistic adults. The creator of the project has read my poetry and enjoys my writing style, and asks that I write 2 poems for the show.

Considering 1st January 2015 looked bleak, I am glad that the fog didn’t obscure my vision too much. If 3 doors opened in 25 days, let’s hope there are more lined up, eagerly anticipating my arrival.

Five Things It’s Okay for Twenty-Somethings to Not Care About In 2015

Five Things It’s Okay for Twenty-Somethings to Not Care About In 2015 – http://huff.to/1xUODv9

Fantasy World

Image by Danielle Montgomery

Our world wasn’t the one that you and I live in now.
It was conceived in our minds
and helped us settle down.

We found this world on an accidental whim.
From the repressed love we had,
it showed there was hope within.

Our world was nestled in the clouds and stars.
Sitting high above reality
we ventured to Venus and Mars.

This world was filled with laughter and words.
We’d speak our own language
so that our fate couldn’t hurt.

In this world it was only you and I.
But an enemy lay close
and its name was Time.

I will miss our world in all its wonder;
Those places we created
in our clouded daytime slumber.

FAT.

BIGGER, bigger.
My hips could now bare child.
Expanding in parallel with
the black sky running wild.

STOP, stop.
The fat encloses my bones.
Encapsulating my skeleton
invoking broken silent moans.

PLEASE, please.
No more presence to my soul.
There is too much of me
now and I am becoming whole.

BACK, back.
Lets revisit the times before.
When my body was less visible
and I’d sit alone with my thoughts.

GO, go.
Whatever you are, be gone.
You haunt me incessantly
but I will cease you to live on.

Is This The Downfall of Danny Baker?

Danny Baker’s memoir

Within the circle of depression and writers of mental health, there is Danny Baker, known for his memoir and mental health advocacy. However a recent outburst at email subscribers, me being one of them, has led me to seriously doubt his agenda.

In an email entitled, ‘To Be Honest, Danielle, I’m Really Disappointed In You’ he lets rip into his frustrations that although 10,000 people ‘supposedly’ read his memoir, only 4,000 people opened his Amazon Review Request email, and further still, only 5 or 6 people bothered to leave a review, despite his clear indications as to HOW to leave a review, and WHY it’s so important to him that we do. Here is the email:

Dear Danielle,

You’re receiving this email because at some point in time, you subscribed to my email list to receive a free copy of my memoir, “The Danny Baker Story – Proof That You Can Recover From Depression And Find Happiness Again”. And it’s regarding this memoir that I’m writing to you today.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been sending you my usual emails filled with tips to recover from depression. In addition to doing so, I have kindly asked that you take a minute to leave a review of my memoir on Amazon. Nearly 10,000 people receive these emails, and around 40% of you usually open them (the program I use to send these emails tells me this). However, out of the 4,000 or so of you that would’ve seen this small request, only 5 or 6 of you took a minute to leave a review.

“That’s strange,” I remember thinking. “I know thousands of you have read your free copy of my memoir, because my inbox is constantly flooded with people telling me how much my memoir has helped them. How come no-one bothered to leave a review?”

I wasn’t sure, but then I thought of a few reasons.

“Maybe they don’t appreciate how much a review actually helps me,” I thought. “They probably think that ‘just one review’ won’t make a difference at all, and for that reason, don’t bother to leave one.”

“Or, maybe they don’t know how to leave a review.”

I figured that one of those two reasons must be it, so in my next email to you all, in addition to linking to a blog post giving you some more recovery tips, I asked you again to take a minute to leave a review, and in doing so, I explained just how much a review would mean to me. I explained that reviews are the lifeblood of an author, and with my first novel I will not kill myself, Olivia coming out at the start of next year, I’ve been told by every single editor, marketing guru and PR firm I’ve worked with to make sure I get more reviews for my memoir on Amazon. I gave step by step instructions on exactly how to leave a review, and concluded by saying that “if you’re one of the few thousand that have read your free copy of my memoir, it would make a HUGE, HUGE, HUGE difference to me if you took a couple of minutes to leave a review”.

After I hit send, I remember thinking, “now that I’ve explained how to leave a review, and explained how much a review would mean to me, I’m sure that people will start leaving reviews”.

But out of the 3,500 of you that opened that email, only five people did.

And to be honest, that made me feel really disappointed.

Why?

Because over the last year, I have worked anywhere between 30-50 hours a week to try and help people like you with depression. I do it all for free – in fact, I do it at a loss of several thousand dollars a year to myself, since maintaining a website, storing email lists, etc isn’t cheap, and is paid straight out of my pocket. I do it not asking for anything in return. because I do genuinely care about you, and I do want to help. And thankfully, I do help – which I know because my inbox is flooded with emails of thanks, and in many instances, emails saying how something I wrote – usually my memoir – prevented someone from ending their life. I apparently help you guys so much, yet the one time I ask you to take a few minutes out of your day to help me, only a few of you bother to do anything?

Can you see why I’m so put off by this? Can you see why I feel so irritated?

I don’t feel like I’m asking for much. It won’t take you long and it won’t cost you anything. And because hardly anyone has done this small favour for me after everything I’ve done for all of you, I can’t help but feel as if very few of you care about me. And that’s not a very nice emotion to feel – particularly for a group of people you do so much – and sacrifice so much – for.

I really didn’t want to have to send this email, because I’m not a person who enjoys confrontation. But on the other hand, I do believe that part of being happy involves confronting what’s upsetting you, and sometimes that involves getting things that are bothering you off your chest – so that’s what I’ve chosen to do here.

So, for the last time, if my memoir has helped you and you haven’t already done so, can you please take a couple of minutes to leave a review of it on Amazon?

To do so, click here if you live in the UK or here if you live in the US or anywhere else, and do the following:

1) Scroll down past the “book description” section, “customers who viewed this item also viewed” section, “product details” section, and all the way down to the section that reads “Most helpful customer reviews”.

2) After the very last review, you will see a grey button that reads “write a customer review”. Click on that, and leave your review.

You can see this button in the screenshot below for the Amazon US site:

 Or in the screenshot below for the Amazon UK site:

So, if you’ve read my memoir and it helped you in some way, I’d really, really, really appreciate it if you took a moment to leave a review of my story on Amazon. It really will only take you a couple of minutes, and like I’ve said, I would really, really appreciate it.

If you live in the UK, you can do so here.

If you live in the US or anywhere else, you can do so here.

OK, enough unpleasantness for one day. Just please do this one thing for me and then in the next email, I’ll tell you all about the awesome thing I’m setting up for you guys which will give you the chance to receive therapy … for free!

Take care,

Danny.

P.s. If you are one of the very few people who have already left a review, then thank-you so much! I really appreciate it 🙂

 

Well firstly, thanks for reigniting emotions of shame and feeling like a disappointment. You do realise that your email subscribers are most likely going to be sufferers of depression? To clearly state you are disappointed in followers of your journey through recovery and advocacy, indicates to me that you don’t really understand mental health or basic PR.

Secondly, just because 10,000 people downloaded a memoir, it doesn’t mean to say that everybody a) read it, and b) enjoyed it. I did download it a while ago but after reading the simplicity of his blog posts and realising I was gaining nothing from his patronising words, I decided not to endeavour with the memoir. I suffer with depression and don’t appreciate misunderstood posts that say ‘go for a walk if you’re feeling down’. If I were able to, then I would. His advice is reminiscent of the ill-informed who say to me, ‘put food in your mouth and then swallow.’ I had a choice to not read it and I had a choice to not succumb to his egotistical request that was purely for his own gain. However me, along with 3,995 people have now been condemned for not helping in securing him more reviews.

For somebody who claims to be a mental health advocate, this attack alludes to notions he is prying on the vulnerable, using trigger words he knows will invoke shame and lead them to punish themselves for being such a failure. He gets no apology from me. I am not sorry for not obeying what should have been a subtle plea for gratification. His words are like those of a child, begging for attention and becoming distraught when they realise the world does not in fact revolve around them. I don’t like myself for thinking this, but his entire backstory now feels embellished, adorned with tales of woe purely to create an online community that essentially pays his way.

I say this because he was requesting £154 from people to access his Blueprint Recovery course. That’s a lot of money for someone who is essentially a blogger to start demanding from his followers. Also, his intellect that he portrays about depression is bordering on being on par with average assumptions from the ‘normal’ person. Berating innocent people who have kindly aided in giving him online credibility because they didn’t complete a task he barked at them doesn’t sound like the behaviour of someone who has suffered with clinical depression.

To me it sounds like this, and this is just an analogy…; a fraudster who befriends and deceits a vulnerable elderly community with the aim of stealing from them, sits patiently with them and gets to know them, begins asking questions about where the money is but it constantly greeted with glazed over expressions and old age confusion. The fraudster remains patient but is gritting his teeth. Then one day he snaps. He just wants to know where the money is and doesn’t give a shit about uncovering his identity. He has been too patient and feels he has sacrificed enough of his time.

I’m not saying Danny Baker is an out-and-out liar and that he didn’t go through what he claims to have gone through. But there is an element of deceit if only subtly. A forever smiley face that one day turns evil. However with such a following and a desire to promote a new book with the help of fans, he cannot use the excuse of being ‘just a human who makes mistakes’. He has a brand and a business and we can’t start blurring the lines between what is acceptable and what’s not when it comes to marketing. Amazon wouldn’t send an email out to their members exclaiming their disappointment in lack of purchasing activity. ‘We’re all Really Disappointed That You’ve Had an Account for 3 Years But Only Bought 1 Item – You Must Buy More’

Although following up today with an apology email signed off with hollow kisses, his attempts at salvage will be interesting to see. If his true colours were really shown in that email, then I imagine him to feel a strong sense of deserving when it comes to forgiveness.

The Breakup Etiquette Guide for Facebook

My article has been published on The Huffington Post, discussing the unspoken rules of how to behave on Facebook after a relationship breakup.

 What other rules do you find yourself adhering to on social media? 

Glamorised Fat

So this was originally posted on my old blog – from way back in 2012! – but I’ve seen many similar articles emerging recently discussing the ‘Real Woman’; something I found to be controversial and unsettling years ago. Please excuse the awful WordPress theme, I was young and naive. Oh, and I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. Gutted.

Without sounding like some pro-anorexic who encourages this lifestyle as a commercialised choice, the advertising campaigns regularly thwarted upon us that support the natural curves of women and the embracement of your womanly figure, can be somewhat bias towards the other end of the health spectrum.

An advert came on this morning for a clothes catalogue company, whereby sizes start at 14 and finish at 32. On screen were a trio of curvaceous models, flamboyantly parading around with their size 14 clothes looking happier than Larry. Literally two adverts later, another clothes company advert came on with their clothes starting at size 12 and again, finishing at size 32. Cue the cliché models looking vibrant with their wholesome figures. The point I’m trying to make is that it seems as though there is an element to glamorising fat – saying it’s okay to be ‘Big and Beautiful’. Yes it IS okay to be big and beautiful, the size of a body theoretically shouldn’t determine the soul underneath, but isn’t being big also a health problem the government insist on fighting? Although the models in the advertising campaigns are only just the required size for the ‘natural woman’ façade, the mere fact that clothes shop and companies specifically regulate to make the curvy, larger and obese woman feel beautiful so only stock certain sizes implies a certain discrimination for those on the opposite side of the health barometer.

It seems a woman who is size 32 can easily pick up the phone and order clothes (encouraging laziness and lack of exercise) and due to whatever her circumstances of reaching that weight whether it be a medical condition or mental condition, she must be verging on the morbidly obese category. Yet it seems people with the ‘skinnier’ eating disorders are limited to high street shops and have to wear baggy clothes or pay a lot more for smaller clothes (even though smaller clothes use less material so technically I should be paying less.) I can only genuinely only pin point two high street shops that stock a size 4, and they can be expensive. Where do I go if a size 4 doesn’t fit me, the children’s section? Why is it okay to essentially glamorise a heavier weight and larger size, but yet you wouldn’t see an advertisement claiming ‘Are you too thin? Can’t stop restricting and vomiting so you’re clothes don’t fit you? Then call now for your free brochure, stocking sizes from zero to minus 6!’

If these are ‘real women’ then I am not one, apparently.

The campaigns for bigger and beautiful women and the crude Facebook groups titled Curvy girls do it better, only a dog wants a bone! can be degrading. Well, I am truly sorry to infect your sight with my eating disorder riddled body, maybe you’d prefer me if I put on a Mr Blobby suit? It begs me to question my appearance even more than I already do. If my boyfriend is genuine when he admits how skinny I am, then that implies I am a bone, but only a dog wants a bone, right? How can my boyfriend call me sexy and beautiful when it seems to be an unspoken myth in society about what constitutes sexiness? Heck, clothes shops don’t even want me to dress nice! Although being anorexic and bulimic is not a lifestyle I caved into through societies pressures of ‘looking like a model from the magazine’, I still want to be accepted by society but I don’t think us ‘ED’ sufferers are quite there yet. We’ll live in the shadows of the voluptuous woman. Literally.

It’s a shame that nothing has changed since writing this article. With the advancement of social media memes, I’ve witnessed more absurdities being passed through the public discourse, one claiming that before anorexia there was a thing called sexy; further implying the notion that eating disorders are a commodity. When will our societal perception of eating disorders become more aligned with the truth? What’s the most outrageous thing you have ever heard? Let me know in the comments x

The Cry

I thought my eyes had run dry,
taken over by sand dunes in the night.
But they are wet as I tell you this lie –
they are tired from caving into The Cry.

It plagues them with a quick sting,
so sharp they answer to its beckoning.
Tears become part of the following –
they roll slowly and begin to sing.

Their tune is awfully sad,
telling the story of a love so mad.
Neither was loved and neither was glad –
but they held on loosely to each other’s hand.

These tears, they always do fall,
whether it is the eve, noon or morn.
They slither and weave and crawl –
Until I am unmasked, naked and vulnerable.