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Cheers,

F x

Bad days

I think one of my biggest regrets in life is never pushing myself sooner to become someone because I find as I get older that it is more and more difficult to be the person I should be.

I am directionless. I am behind the crowd and unable to catch up because I still keep getting stuck.

I haven't just let myself down. I have also let my family down. I am not the daughter, sister, niece or cousin they deserve. I have nothing to show for my 28 years. I do nothing but daydream. I imagine a life I could have - a life that I will never have.

During my bad days, like today, I do wonder what is the point in trying. As much as I try to believe that I am not a joke, it's hard not to when I realise that I don't amount to much.

I'm sorry for the sad post today. I know it will pass...

Until next time.

F x

Ideas

It was perfect. My life was truly perfect. When I look back, I could see that we were a family that if I wasn't already a part of, I would want to be. We were so sickeningly like those families on TV where we all got a long no matter what happened and everything seemed to work in our favour. There was never a moment where I hated being with them. 

However, it seems that life was within a bubble that unfortunately popped, which allowed in an overwhelming amount of grief - a feeling I wasn't familiar with. It felt like I had been thrown in to unfamiliar territory. With all that sadness there was also the realisation that nothing remains perfect forever. Its amazing how quickly you can go from feeling blissfully happy and content, to bitter and miserable.

My Dad used to say, "Life is a Lottery". I didn't give that phrase much thought until now. Some people get great things whereas others, in particularly us, get the shit. I don't know why this had to happen. Of all the families it had to happen to, why us? I go over and over why and I draw a blank whenever I try to think of anything bad we could have done. Maybe we were just too happy and some one decided that wasn't fair? I have no idea. I just know that I hate everything. I don't think I have ever properly experienced hate until now.

I ache so much for how we were, but it is not the same and it never will be. No matter how hard they try to lure me back, I will not return. They don't get quite understand that it won't work. The life they are trying to build now can't compare to how it was. It was robbed from us. Someone took it and they won't give it back. 

It kills me. In fact it has killed me so much already that I am no longer myself. I have changed everything so that I no longer resemble the old me who lived in that bubble living her life like it would be that way forever. How incredibly naive and stupid I was. 

What is the point in happiness, I now wonder, when it is so easily destroyed.

Confession time.

This is one of my most honest posts, one where I am opening up about my love/hate relationship with food and what I think about my body. I have wanted to post this for a while but never felt quite ready to until now. Please try not to judge me too much....

Ever since I was a teenager, I have had issues with my body and how it looks. I have always had a very warped perception of it, believing it looks horrible in comparison to others. I think many people have experienced this feeling when they were younger, but my poor perception has stayed with me well in to my adult years.

Anyone who knows me well, will tell you that I love food - it is a big part of my life. I get so excited about it and spend most of my time thinking about my next meal and what it will be. I love eating out or baking delicious treats to devour with my family or my friends. Every day, I will say at least three times or more that, "I'm hungry - what can I eat now?!" (Those who I work with now and those I have worked with in the past will confirm this!)

Yet as much as I love food, there have been times where I have despised it and seen it as my enemy. I have resented it for being so damn good and my absolute weakness. "Why", I have wondered so many times can I not just stop at one chocolate or not crave bad foods? Although I do eat fruit and vegetables, (because I frickin' love all the healthy stuff too!) I still want the bad stuff. I want crisps, chips, burgers, hot chocolates topped generously with cream, massive slices of cake, donuts and don't even get me started on bloody pizza....

I have gone from one extreme to another several times since my issues with food and weight began. I've gone from thinking, "Fuck it - give me all the cake!!" to, "Oh best only eat a can of tuna and some salad for lunch and not eat again until tomorrow..." I've either rewarded myself for eating loads or beaten myself up. In all honesty I have struggled to find a balanced attitude.

It started when I was 15 and I just wanted to be thin. Despite already being slim, I was looking at famous people like Britney Spears with her super toned stomach and desperately wanting that. I would do exercises just before bed and try my hardest not to eat sweets, biscuits or chocolates, which was tough in those days when there were plenty of them in the cupboards! This didn't work well longterm though. When I couldn't take the cravings any longer, I would try to rationalise it by going on some bizarre binge of just having bites of several chocolate biscuits, cakes or eating some crisps from a pack before throwing them away. After months of this, my Mum discovered what I was doing and tried to sit me down to talk about it, but I couldn't confess to her why I was doing it. I was just embarrassed as hell and promised not to throw food away anymore. (I did stop eventually because I felt guilty for wasting food and let's be frank - it was ridiculous behaviour...)

Realising I was going a bit bonkers, I returned to somewhat normal eating habits, yet I tried my hardest to do more exercise, constantly trying to not let myself go. I do remember trying to force myself to throw up whenever I caved big time and felt like I'd eaten too much crap, but I couldn't do it. After a while, the obsession with being thin soon died down as I became more focused on schoolwork, friends and boys.

A few years later when I was about to start University though, it returned. I think a lot of it stemmed from the magazines I read an awful lot during that time. It was the stories about Nicole Richie and her extreme weight loss that played on my mind and though I was a little sickened by her skeletal frame, I was also in awe at the same time. In a fucked up way, I wanted to look like her. I wanted to have skinny skinny legs, arms and a bony chest. Seeing Nichole as some sort of idol, I cut out a picture of her to put in my purse to use as my "thinspiration". That was the point where I firmly decided I was going to be skinny. When I looked at Nicole Richie and then at my size 10 body, I felt huge. (Of course thinking rationally now I know I looked perfectly fine!) When I discovered I weighed 8 and a half stone, I set myself the goal of getting down to 7 stone or less.

My first "thinsperation" - Nicole Richie

19 year old me - size 10 and before the weight loss

My eating routine was incredibly dull. I started the day with a small bowl of Special K for breakfast and at lunch I would just have toast with some butter. For dinner I ate whatever, but made sure I only ate a few mouthfuls before I gave the rest to my then boyfriend or I just threw it away. If I got through the day sticking to that eating plan, I was happy. If I didn't, I panicked and lay awake at night beating myself up. 

I was constantly weighing myself and scrutinising myself in the mirror, picking at "fat" parts of myself and wishing them to go away - I actually wanted to cut them off. When I wasn't fixated on my body I'd waste hours on the internet instead looking longingly at skinny celebrities. I remember even filming a fashion show at Uni and feeling envious of the models. I desperately wanted to be thin like them. Every time the scales showed I was getting closer to 7 stone, I felt determined to carry on with eating the bare minimum because I could see it was working.

By my second year of Uni, I had reached 7 stone. I remember some people had commented on how thin I looked, which made me happy. One comment that really sticks in my mind was when my brother greeted me one morning by calling me "Stringbean", which I brushed off casually but secretly I was ecstatic because it proved I was noticeably skinny. When I looked in the mirror, I could see I was too. My ribs and my collar bones were more prominent. In my mind, I was on the right track. Yet, it didn't quite feel enough. I started to wonder how I could possibly get my weight down to 6 stone.

My 21st Birthday, weighing only 7 stone.

In amongst doing my Uni work during my second year, I also threw myself in to losing more weight, or at the very least not letting my weight go above 7 stone. Along with eating very little I went back to doing exercises every night before bed. There was a TV show I became obsessed with called Supersize vs. Superskinny and I was amazed by how skinny the girls on that show were. They were like sticks and I was so envious. If I wanted to be like them, I decided I'd need to really up my game. So, I tried my hardest to restrict myself to two meals a day. If I could, I would try get away with having a Latte and some sort of cereal bar. It was by no means enjoyable and I was incredibly hungry most of the time. My stomach would hurt so much with hunger pains, but I persevered. I saw the emptiness I felt as success. When my clothes started to feel baggy, I was on top of the world. However, on the days where I slipped up and ate far too much - which was usually when I returned home - I was distraught. I absolutely despised the feeling of a full stomach. I associated it with failure and getting fat. I cried with tears of frustration and longed to just not eat at all. However, I knew deep down I needed to eat. There was no way I could get away with not eating.

Halfway through Uni I was plagued with constant stomach bugs. I felt awful but disturbingly happy at the same time because all the throwing up made me thinner. One night, my Dad came to visit me at my student accommodation and he said I looked too thin. His concern worried me slightly but my desire to be skinny still held. Just before finishing my second year of Uni I joined a gym, feeling the exercises I did every night were no longer enough. 

A photo from Uni. I was at my thinnest here.

During my induction at the gym, the instructor weighed me. As we both looked at the scales, the screen showing I was only 6 stone 12, I was pleased. The instructor wasn't though and asked why I was joining the gym when I was clearly so small. I shrugged, telling her I wanted to "bulk up a bit", which was a total lie. I guess I was worried she was going to stop me from joining but she didn't. She seemed satisfied with my answer and throughout the summer I used the gym as much as I could.

Before I returned for my final year of Uni though, I suddenly had a change of heart. It was the weirdest thing, but I started to panic about the fact that all the weight loss had completely ruined my boobs. As in, they were non-existent. I'd gone from a C cup to an A and they looked horrible. It made me re-think my mission to be skinny and whether it was worth continuing. I was also bloody starving and sick of eating so little. Just like that, I began to eat normally and not care so much. I couldn't completely let go of the voice that told me I'd get fat for eating loads, but I blocked it out enough to spend my last year at Uni eating what I wanted and no longer bothering with exercise or the gym. The more I got used to eating what I wanted, the easier it became. It was tough when my small clothes no longer fitted and I had to buy new ones, but I was happy enjoying food and no longer stressing about calories and weighing myself all the time.

I kept this up for a good few years until I was a size 10 again - even my boobs returned! After finishing Uni I lived in Leeds and then London. All that time I ate what I wanted without giving it much thought. I still didn't like my body, and every now and then I'd consider going super skinny again, but I just couldn't be bothered and I loved food too much. I never counted calories or battered an eyelid when I ate copious amounts of pizza and donuts. I was pretty content and looking back at photos from that time now, I looked healthy (my insides probably weren't though!) 

Happy and healthy at size 10 once again - with boobs!

As far as I was concerned, I was no longer at risk of resorting to my old unhealthy habits of eating bugger all. But sadly, a couple of years on, something happened in my life that sent me slipping down that slope once again. 

When I broke up with my ex back in 2013, I was deeply depressed. I couldn't eat because I had no appetite and within a few months, I was nearing 7 stone again. Though the weight loss had been unintentional that time, for some reason I felt I had to maintain it. As I recovered from my depression, the familiar feeling of needing to be thin returned. I was counting calories and trying to eat as little as I possibly could. I suppose it was a control thing. I needed to be thin because I didn't want other people to think I was letting myself go. I even had a new "thinspiration", which was the character Nina Sayers from Black Swan. I watched that film loads just to appreciate how thin she was. I searched the internet to find out how much she had weighed. I can't remember the exact amount now, but it was definitely under 7 stone. All over again, I was transfixed with wanting to be skin and bone.

The character Nina Sayers - another thinspo.

7 stone again after having depression in 2013

I was 26 by this point and eating little wasn't as easy to achieve as it had been during my Uni days. I was also living back at home and under the constant watch of my parents so I struggled to maintain a low calorie intake. My only option was to take up some form of exercise that would guarantee losing weight. That's when I took up running. (On this blog, I have written about my love of running, explaining that I started it to keep fit, but I also started it to achieve a skinny frame - may as well admit it now!)

In addition to running 3 times a week, I also ran after eating so much as a chocolate bar, out of fear of "getting fat". I also met up with an old friend who introduced me to Circuit training and because I was in awe of her toned body, I signed up straight away. I put myself under strict control all over again, throwing myself in to exercise and barely eating. It wasn't healthy, yet the desire to be thin blew all sense out the window. Most days for lunch I'd just have salad with tuna. I then started to cut down on carbs - never eating potatoes or pasta. Instead of normal bread, I'd eat rye bread. I tried to stop having so much milk, considering it too fattening. A lot of my friends told me off, saying I needed to eat more and not exercise so much but I took no notice of them because I was enjoying the results. 

Inevitably the lack of fuel whilst exercising at least 5 days a week, began to take its toll on my body though. My periods stopped, my hair started thinning, I was having dizzy spells, feeling tired all the time and I struggled to maintain the running. It was at that point that I had two choices - to continue my unhealthy obsession with being thin, or accept that in order to run properly, my body needed a lot more calories than I was consuming. As I had a half marathon to run, I opted for the second choice.

Months down the line, I am now a size 8 and looking better than I was a year or so ago. I can't quite shake off the perception that my body is horrible. I have moments where I look at myself and dislike what I see, but I at the end of the day I just want to take care of myself and I can't fight my love of food any longer. 

When I injured my leg at the beginning of this year, I was scared about getting "huge", but I think it was a blessing, as it made me re-think running and that I was probably doing it too much. Once my leg is better, I plan on doing only one run a week, rather than 3. I've noticed since I stopped running how much my hair has improved and my periods are getting back to normal. I think my body needed the break and it was a sign I was doing too much. 

Me now - size 8

Now, I eat what I want without going too crazy. I try not to pay attention to calories and just enjoy the amazingness that is food. If I have bad days where I don't eat very well at all then I try not to dwell on it. I hope that I will continue this way and never go back to ridiculous eating habits and worshipping bony celebrities. Besides, everyone looks better with a little junk in their trunk! (I'm so sorry I just said that....)

It's all about finding a balance with food and exercise, and if I can achieve that balance I will be very happy.

F x

The kindness of others

When something like dementia hits a family, its important to seek help and support - especially for the carer. A break, even for just an hour, can make all the difference for their piece of mind.

My mother's dementia gets worse by the month. She is now like a child, accept she is like a child that doesn't learn. You tell her things several times, but its unlikely to stick. She is even more dependent on my dad, more than ever before. There is literally no way she can look after herself and sadly, at the rate the disease is taking over her mind, I'm not certain my dad can continue to be her carer a year or so from now.

The kindness of others can be a comfort in such a horrible situation. Its heart warming that friends will gather and offer help in any way they can. These people I am most thankful for.

I think I can now be certain that my mother truly is gone and I miss her every single day. If I could go back to before this happened, I would have done so much more to be there for her and cherish our time together.

You never know when you're going to loose a parent, so make the most of it whilst you still can because sometimes life can be incredibly cruel.

F x

Not running

I've not been a very happy bunny recently. I injured my leg during an 8 mile run two weeks ago and I don't know what it is or how to fix it. And whilst I am typing about this, can we just take a moment to wonder why physio is so bloody expensive? 40 quid or more just to have some person poke and pull your leg a bit to confirm there is a problem and you need to keep coming back every week to fork out more money....I am in the wrong job!

I didn't ever think to put money aside for an injury. I've been running two years and although I know no one is immune to injuries, I was quite lucky in that I didn't have any issues apart from a pulled muscle at the start of my training, which was easily fixed. I guess I started to feel immune and that I could run as much as I wanted without nothing going wrong. I wasn't completely relaxed though. I still stretched after every run and invested in a foam roller - I even started doing exercises a few months ago to strengthen my core. In doing all this, an injury was far from my mind.

So when I returned from the my run 2 weeks ago and felt pain in my right shin, I wasn't too concerned at first. I figured it would pass within a day or so. Even when I was literally limping to Tescos with my housemate to buy hot chocolate and Avocados (as you do...) I said to her I was fine and that the pain would soon go. Looking at me with concern and suggesting she fetch the car to drive me home, I knew she didn't believe me but I had faith.

A few days later I was managing to walk but there was still pain. When I tried to run it was even worse. That's when I realised it wasn't going to go away on its own. I spoke to others and they said I probably had shin splints. In a panic I googled my symptoms and actually convinced myself I had a stress fracture. I headed straight to the walk-in centre in Nottingham one Friday night and waited 3 hours to see someone who could do nothing for me other than recommend rest, pain killers and to see my GP if nothing improved.

Frustrated as hell I went to my GP and was still none the wiser after seeing her. She prescribed anti-inflammatory pills, rest and that if it didn't feel better after a couple of weeks she could refer me to a specialist. Why, I wondered, she couldn't do it there and then I do not know. I left and headed to the chemist for the pills which I am now taking and though they make me queasy, they do ease the pain. But I know it is still there and its pissing me off.

I have always loved running and what it does for my anxiety and depression. Yet I never realised just how much I relied on it to make me feel better when work or personal stuff was starting to bring me down. It was my way of coping, my guaranteed mood booster that lessened the burden on my shoulders.

I ran for that buzz and I now I miss it like crazy. I have been doing other exercises such as cycling, rowing and cross training, but nothing I have tried so far brings me the same satisfaction as running does. I find myself restless and emotional. Its only been a fortnight and I want to be better already. I want to be out there again but my leg won't allow it.

I just wish I knew what it was. If I knew what I was dealing with, I could take the correct steps towards healing but right now it is just a guessing game. And annoyingly whilst I am not running, I am becoming more and more grumpy and stressed.

I am an impatient person when it comes to not doing something I love. Therefore I am booking myself in for physio despite the blow my purse will take. Though I know I can do it through the NHS, it will no doubt take weeks or months before I see someone. I want this sorted. I want to be out there again along with all the other runners I see every day, whom I look at with overwhelming jealousy.

Until next time...

F x

Unsettled

It might be January blues but it is certainly turning in to a tough month.

I can't recall the last time I have ever felt settled. It seems I always have something on my mind that I know I need to change. Once I have changed it, something else happens and I'm off again worrying and stressing about how to sort it out.

Currently there are changes going on at work and though I have known for a while they were coming, they are becoming more and more real this month. The team I've just settled in to is about to change. I am trying to come to terms with the fact I will no longer be able to work with one of the best Managers I have ever had as well as wondering what will happen to me. I don't know if I have to look else where or stay put. I don't know if there will be a job for me.

I'm dealing with the unknown and I hate the unknown because I always assume the worst. I have nothing I can control in any of it - I'm just waiting to be told what to do. I don't know how else to make a decision.

Its sad that it will all change. I only started in July but it hasn't taken long to become good friends with my team.

This situation has just further shown me that life never comes with any guarantees. Significant changes are happening all the time, more than ever before it seems. I'm losing grip on control and structure and I'm growing unsettled again. My mind is racing with what I should do.

I'm still trying to find my place in the world. It seems to be my ongoing battle. Sometimes its exciting but at times like these, its not fun. Its worrying.

I just want one thing in my life that is solid and consistent.

Until next time...

F x