Content Warning:– This post contains vivid descriptions of eating disordered thoughts.

January 2024 was when I first realised I had relapsed with anorexia. At that time, I was overwhelmed by an URGENT, all-consuming need for help. I called a crisis line because I was in a mental health crisis. I called my doctors. I begged — I needed help that second. I made a lot of noise, hoping someone would come running to see what all the fuss was about. I knew this was more than a lapse. I knew I needed support to get out.

The squeaky gate doesn’t get the oil unless it’s also falling off its hinges these days. And then, you wonder how the oil is supposed to fix it.

Now, nearly a year later, I feel the complete opposite of urgency. Instead of desperation, I feel ambivalence — a state of being caught between two opposing forces, unable to move fully in either direction. When it comes to eating disorders, ambivalence is normal and expected. It can happen for a variety of reasons, but for me, it feels as though it appeared out of nowhere, and I’ve yet to identify why. All I currently know is that it lingers.

Ambivalence is a superposition. I both want recovery and do not want recovery, existing in both states at the same time. It is exhausting. And there is no better way to illustrate this experience than my trip to Asda.

The Asda Superposition

My son and I planned a trip to Asda to stock up on groceries, and we planned to get Greggs on the way home as a treat. I was dreading it — not just because of Asda itself, but because I knew I’d have to deal with the many superpositions Asda creates. But mostly, I was dreading Greggs.

I’ve written before about Corrupted Clippy — the name I give my eating disorder thoughts. Clippy has been determined to add Greggs to the “ABSOLUTELY NOT” list.

Before we even left the house, I was already stuck in a superposition — I both wanted to go to Asda and didn’t want to go to Asda. Clippy wanted me to make excuses, to stay home, to avoid the trip entirely so I wouldn’t have to face all the battles or temptations waiting for me there. But staying home wasn’t an option. We needed food. And I wasn’t going to let my son down — Greggs was part of the plan.

Lately, everything has become a battle. Corrupted Clippy and the superposition of ambivalence have made even mundane tasks feel like warzones. I struggle with anxiety all the time, but I used to enjoy Asda, even if I was having a panic attack in the bread aisle. Now, I don’t enjoy Asda at all. It’s no longer just a supermarket — it’s a battleground of indecision.

But despite the ambivalence, despite the fight, I collapsed the wave function. I grabbed my Jellycat fox, hugged him for comfort and left the house. I went to Asda. And I walked straight into the next superposition.

The Cheesey Superposition

After adding some of my Clippy ALLOWED food items to my trolley, I found myself praying at the glowing altar of cheese, otherwise known as the dairy section. Lately, I’ve been eating a lot of beans. They’re safe. Pre-portioned. Predictable. But I’ve been thinking about adding cheese — because let’s be real, beans without cheese is sadness personified.

Whilst zoning out – to anyone watching, I probably looked like Dexter mid-monologue – I stood in the aisle arguing with my own dark passenger, Corrupted Clippy.

Me “I really want this cheese stares longingly at Cathedral City”
Clippy “It looks like you’re trying to buy cheese, would you like me to remind you how it’s on the ABSOLUTELY NOT list?”
Me: “But I doubt I’d even add that much, just a bit.”
Clippy: “No, you’d have to measure it precisely every time. Cheese is on the ABSOLUTELY NOT list for this reason.”
Me: “But it wouldn’t make a difference overall, I’d just add a little bit on top.”
Clippy: “No, that’s too much. You’d have to take something else off.”
Me: “What if I get the slices? It’s already counted then.”
Clippy: “No. You can’t be trusted with cheese. It would tempt you too much, and then everything will spiral out of control.”
Me: “Ugh, you know what? I can’t be bothered. I’m already battling Greggs, and I’m not even there yet. I don’t have it in me to argue”

I walked away, still in the superposition of wanting and not wanting cheese.
I could not collapse this wave function.
I could not observe the cheese being put into my trolley.
Where is my Harry when I need him?

There were other battles, that went exactly the same way as this, in many aisles. But after adding all of my allowed safe food to my trolley we headed to the self checkout to pay. I was exhausted, yet, the battle music was about to play, as I approached the main boss, Greggs.

The Superposition of the Main Boss – Greggs.

As I approached Greggs, I heard the battle music and Clippy SCREAMING it’s objections. It wasn’t just a thought — it was a looping echo, orbiting inside my skull like a speaker on a wire, circling and circling with no way out. If this was a game, heavy ammo and strategically placed crates would have appeared in front of me. Instead, I was walking into the boss level empty handed, with only what was left of my will and health bar after draining both battling the aisles of Asda.

I walked into the altar of pastries and saw that my favourite Greggs staff member – The Queen of Sausage Rolls – was working. I haven’t seen her for a long time, so for a moment she distracted me long enough to be able to order two sausage rolls, a mocha for my son, and an Americano for me. She helped me collapse the wave function and come away with a small victory.

She loves Jellycats and plushies so she was asking about my sons pink frog. It took the heat off the battle, and the boss battle instead turned into a companion loyalty mission. Still difficult, but the stakes had lowered. I walked home and while being subjected to clippys one sided tirade of “What the heck was that? I said they’re on the ABSOLUTELY NOT list!” I thought about how The Queen of Sausage Rolls has no idea how much she just helped me.

The Princess Was in Another Castle

After putting the shopping away and feeling defeated due to a significant lack of cheese in my fridge, it suddenly dawned on me that the main boss battle wasn’t Greggs. The princess was actually in ANOTHER castle, she was here, at home, where I’d have to now eat the sausage roll.

Don’t ask me how I didn’t realise that I’d actually have to eat it to collect my gamer score. I guess it was wishful thinking because that means the Greggs battle is over, and I am victorious. Instead, like Mass Effect Andromeda, the entire Greggs arc was a MacGuffin, and now the battle is here, sat on my table in the iconic Greggs paper bag.

“At least I can still enjoy the coffee I bought too,” I thought, trying to find some kind of silver lining — some kind of strength. “Not eating the sausage roll would be treason. The Queen of Sausage Rolls deserves my loyalty”. I sat in front of my MacBook, put on a physics YouTube video, collapsed the wave function, and ate the sausage roll.

“You will NOT take Greggs away from me, Clippy. I will not commit treason, I will continue to eat sausage rolls, despite your objections. Despite my own ambivalence.”

The Heartbreak of the Fall Out.

I wish it was that easy, that you just eat the sausage roll and then, that’s that. A victory. A silent revolution against Corrupted Clippy. I won, right? Not really. The way my ambivalent superposition differs from quantum mechanics is the way Clippy is able to alter variables to land me back in the superposition, and it started the moment I just thought about eating the sausage roll.

“What is done, can be undone” – Not Shakespeare, but DEFINITELY Clippy.

“What is done, can be undone”, a phrase often misquoted to William Shakespeare, the line is actually, “What’s done, cannot be undone”, however, the misquoted version is exactly how Clippy works and operates. It’s already altering the variables of my later intake and suggesting ways I can, “make up” for the sausage roll.

It doesn’t care that I am sat here heartbroken, realising I did not enjoy or love my Greggs. A small pastry treat that usually offers me comfort has now turned into a battle, a stressor, another hill to climb. It doesn’t care that I feel like I have lost myself. It doesn’t care that I miss the things that once brought me comfort. And yet, at the same time, I am ambivalent enough to listen.

A Ritual Interrupted

It’s then a few hours post sausage roll, and my son and I watch Eastenders together as we do at dinner time. It is our nightly ritual to eat dinner and then jab at the BBC with their constant mishandling of serious issues in the name of awareness. We’re avid hate watchers, and it’s very bonding.

My son eats his chicken nuggie dinner. I sit here empty-handed, because of Clippy. Because of the sausage roll. Because of everything and nothing all at once. I don’t have anything left to fight Clippy or my own ambivalence. “I’ll eat later, I can’t do it now”.

I question myself, “What is going on, just FIGHT”, “No, I CAN’T”. Great, now I am even battling myself. Ugh, I don’t know how I got here, all I know is, this is where I am.

I know superpositions can’t be held indefinitely, it’s impossible, the wave function will collapse itself. But I thought returning to a superposition was impossible and yet here I am. I know not making a decision, is actually a decision, yet I am afraid to do anything to collapse the wave function myself.

I don’t know what I am afraid of. Why recovery suddenly scares me, why the superposition of wanting recovery and not wanting recovery feels safer. But, that’s what I’ll be trying to figure out while exhausted by superpositions. But at least, I did eat Greggs.

… Well, well
Look who’s inside again
Went out to look for a reason to hide again
Well, well
Buddy, you found it
Now, come out with your hands up
We’ve got you surrounded