Recovery is life

The heading looks misleading but it's a topic I've been thinking about a lot, let me explain. I've been physically and mentally recovered now for nearly 2 years and I've always either put on weight or stayed the same but now my body is settling into it normal life and my daily eating habits are changing with work and day trips. I've naturally lost weight, not drastic, it's literally just my body settling down and getting comfy, I think. But from past experiences it's so hard to deal with, not for me but for my family. My mum and dad become worried and are constantly egging me on to eat more and more, when I'm eating no less than I was before, it's just how my body has fluctuated. It's difficult to understand the minds of others, and rightfully they can be worried but they definitely don't need to. It's just trying to establish that trust with your family for them to not be worried, but they have single handingly seen me lie to their f

Blah blah blah, we all hate fitness. It can be upsetting and hard to deal with. Me personally, I forgot how to exercise, properly. I didn't know how to look after myself. I had zero fitness, if I ran up the stairs I had to take a nap. I just didn't know where to start. I wanted to do something (fully physically and mentally recovered) I just didn't want to push myself and I didn't want to have to do too much, because lazy. So I started doing stretches, beginners yoga, I really loved it! I felt myself becoming calmer and a lot more flexible! I didn't push myself and I didn't find it too challenging mentally. I really enjoyed progressing. I always wanted to run again, I loved it, I used to run for my town and it was such a hobby and a passion of mine! So I went on small jogs and power walks with my boyfriend. (I think he still hates me for dragging him around) but it got my fitness going again! I love fresh air and being outside and actually doing something!

I don't really know what to write about anymore, I love writing. I find I can express myself in ways I can't do physically. But, I guess I never want to talk about me? I try and pick a topic and write about it, but what if I want to just blab on about my day and how the lettuce on my sandwich was soggy for lunch. (World war problems soggy lettuce btw) So this is going to be about me, read on if you want, if not then I understand that my life doesn't interest you. (And my soggy lettuce) I'm happy. Sometimes I think I'm not, I talk myself into feeling like I'm unsuccessful in everything I set out to do. I put myself down before I've had a chance to work myself up! I guess that is a flaw of mine. I'm on medication for depression and I have been for just over 2 years. I'm at a point or was were I thought about bringing down my dosage, so I did, (doctors orders of course) and but by bit my happiness started to slide away. (I'd like to point out

So as I sit here in the garden in the most revealing sunbathing dress I own, browsing through social media, I've seen the word 'summer bodies' over a hundred times, and I've legit just woken up, I'm eating my chocolate shreddies as we speak. What is with people and wanting to look like an airbrushed Victoria secret model in summer. You look fabulous all year round so why the need to change for a month? Put your body under so much stress just so you don't feel judged on Facebook on your profile picture. Do you know what's beautiful? Smiling. A tanned happy face. Smile lines. Beach hair. Cartwheels in the sand. Nobody cares how expensive your bikini is, or how toned your butt looks. When you go on holiday you don't sit judging other people's bodies so why would you think they are judging yours? Confidence is beautiful. When you walk past someone and think 'I wish I had their body' they probably just walked past someone and thought t

Anorexia took a hella lot away from me, like 2 years of my life. And I've never been able to let that go, I loath my illness for taking away such precious memories from me. I tell myself all the time that I'm over it and I can move on and be happy with my life but the truth is, I'm not, and that's okay. I think. I know it took away opportunities from me, and I'll never let that go, but I can move on. I can remember how my illness shaped me to become who I am today and all the opportunities I have now, that I'm healthy, mentally. I in no way shape or form still suffer from the thoughts and restrictions and everything my illness was, I have overcome that with time and love for myself and those around me. But have I overcome the little things? When I go for a meal, and I eat whatever I want to eat, afterwards when I'm full I think 'I shouldn't have eaten all that' but then it passes, because I remember that it was bloody good and I can eat what I

okay so I've been reflecting a lot recently. On my recovery, my past, my journey etc... And I'm just so thankful. I'm thankful to my parents, for getting me help when I believed I didn't need it, for taking time off work to take me to hospital appointments and to be my shoulder to cry on during therapy. I'm thankful for my mum staying strong for me, and making sure I knew everything was okay, even though it wasn't. For being signed off work sick with anxiety and still visiting me everyday and keeping me going and fighting when she was struggling herself. Thankful for my dad, for surprising me with late night visits when I was in the unit, and for letting me sniffle and dribble on your shoulder because I missed the comfort of being at home so much and my mind was putting me through torture. I'm thankful to my brother, for hugging me so tight that he made the pain go away, for coming to see me even though I knew he hated the place, he hated the smell and sit