Content Warning: This post contains discussions of eating disorder behaviours that may be triggering, including restriction, food, and vivid descriptions of eating disorder thoughts. Please tread carefully — you have been warned. Now that’s over with, let’s get to fixing my tooth.

On Wednesday, I managed to get an emergency dentist appointment to get my broken tooth fixed. I was extremely anxious and stressed about it. With how much of my tooth broke off, I was unsure if it could even be fixed by a filling. The financial cost was also a massive stressor at a time I couldn’t really afford it.

I made a wish on a shooting star on my Animal Crossing Island for my tooth to be an easier fix than I was imagining because I certainly could not afford a crown (Read about it here). Thankfully my wish came true! My dentist was able to put a GIANT filling in for now.

My tooth will need a crown at some point as it’s likely to break again, but for now, it is in fact fixed. No more pumice stone tooth! It cost £116 which is a MASSIVE chunk of money for me. I’ve had to cancel a few subscriptions, including Netflix. It wasn’t just the cost of the tooth I was worried about, it was the cost the tooth had already taken on my anorexia relapse.

Clippy Gets Full Reign

It took two days to get an emergency appointment, which is incredibly efficient by today’s standards. But it also gave Corrupted Clippy — my eating disordered thoughts — two whole days of full reign in my head.

I could barely eat anything because of my broken tooth, and Clippy was LOVING it.

“It looks like you’re trying to eat soup, would you like some anxiety with that?”
“Germs! Infection! It’s SAFER not to eat at all!”
“Everyone would understand if you skipped food completely. They’d probably even expect it.”

By the time the appointment came, I was so done with Clippy. I mean soup? SOUP? It’s soup, why is EVEN THAT suddenly too much? Dealing with Clippy is EXHAUSTING.

But it wasn’t just about the tooth.

Wednesday was the day after my grief therapy appointment. I wasn’t entirely processing everything in the moment. It was still very positive as I previously explained, but I was so focused on the stress of the impending dentist appointment I couldn’t fully engage with the emotional aspects of finally getting to talk about WeeGee. I woke up not wanting to go to the dentist for missing her so much, but I had to swallow it to be able to get to the dentist.

And that’s the thing — my ED has never been just about food or my body. It has always been a way to numb my emotions.

Bad Americano Dreams

After the dentist, my son and I went to Starbucks. He came with me to the appointment, so I wanted to get him his favourite coffee to show him how much I appreciated him. I ordered him a mocha and a lemon loaf cake, he was so EXCITED the lemon loaf cake was back.

I ordered myself the usual, an Americano. My face was swollen and really painful thanks to lidocaine not numbing me fully, but I was trying really hard to enjoy being present in Starbucks. I love the ambience of Starbucks, the noises, the people on laptops, the smell of coffee, it often fills my soul with peace.

Clippy wasn’t having any of that though, peace? That’s NOT ALLOWED! It used the quiet opportunity to immediately interject with its one sided tirade even louder. It was so loud, I couldn’t even hear the Barista make my Americano anymore.

“Aww what a SHAME you cant eat anything! heh You have a very painful swollen face!”
“Guilt free restriction!”
“I LOVE this for you!”

I shook my head like I could erase the thoughts like an Etch A Sketch. Shut up, Clippy.

We sat down with our drinks, plushies at the table with us, and I tried to drown out Clippy by taking a bunch of cute pictures of my bear with my coffee. It was the only distraction I could find. I felt exhausted, numb, and so tired of my own brain. When we finished our coffees we headed to get some food for later.

The Former Food Wonderland Marks & Spencer

I love Marks & Spencer food. I’ve written before about my Chicken Shawarma obsession — their food is AMAZING. So why did I walk into my former food wonderland, stare at all the meals I used to eat, and feel nothing but emptiness?

I wanted to want it. I really did. But Clippy had already added all my favourites to the ABSOLUTELY NOT list. Instead, I picked up my measly, pathetic chicken, vegetables, soup, and bread, dropping them into my basket like they were rations rather than food. I stared down at them and couldn’t help but quote Dexter under my breath:

“Just like me, empty inside.”

Grief hit me in the snack aisle. A sadness not just for the food I wouldn’t let myself have, but for missing the normal feelings of being in Marks & Spencer. I used to get so excited shopping here — now, I only have the memory of that feeling.

I stood staring at the cookies I used to love, zoning out so hard that for a moment, I wasn’t really there. Maybe part of my brain was hoping to connect with the version of me in another universe — the one that still eats cookies. But when I snapped back to reality, I was still in this universe. The one where I have anorexia.

At the self-checkout, I paid and shoved my items into my bag with the speed and efficiency of an Aldi cashier. No excitement. No hesitation. Just pure mechanical function. My son grabbed the bag, and we headed outside.

Right outside, there was a Valentine’s Day selfie prop heart, set up for cheesy couples’ photos. So naturally, I had to take photos of my bear with it. This is probably the most asexual thing I have ever done. My son joined me with Harrie, his pink frog, and we smiled together taking the photos.

For a brief moment, I felt warmth, laughter, love, and connection. And for once, Clippy didn’t take it away from me.

Don’t Worry BEE (Bart) Happy

When we got back, a small brown box was waiting at the front door — a surprise from my son.

Inside was an ADORABLE Jellycat Bartholomew Bear Bumblebee.

Bartholomew Bears in outfits tend to be seasonal and limited, and with my current financial issues, I had already accepted that I wasn’t going to own him. But my son — the beautiful, AMAZING, thoughtful person he is — surprised me by buying him for me to cheer me up.

I ripped open the package and freed Buzz Aldrin from his yellow tissue paper. I held him in my arms like a baby as we walked inside, and for a second, I smiled.

He is SO CUTE. You literally cannot look at him and not smile. He made me laugh a little too, my face looked like I had been stung by a bee, and on the same day, Bee Bart arrives. I was still holding him as I put the shopping away, and somehow, he made putting my sad food in the fridge more bear-able.

By then, I was completely exhausted — from the dentist, from the pain, from everything — so I took Buzz to my room and tried to nap. I couldn’t sleep, but hugging Buzz in bed was nice. It had started raining, so I just lay there, listening to the rain until it was time for dinner.

Meltdowns After Dinner

One of the reasons I couldn’t sleep was because my face had become really painful — just in time for dinner. Clippy was going to use this to its advantage again. Dinner was going to be a battle for so many reasons.


Everyone would understand why eating was difficult if I told them I just had a filling. But trying to explain the battle with Clippy is much harder. Most people don’t understand that. Yet the physical pain of my tooth is nothing compared to the pain of dealing with Clippy at every meal.


I thought about making soup. Just thinking about making food triggered an unskippable Clippy pop-up.

“Everyone WOULD understand if you didn’t eat. NO ONE would BLAME you.”
“Skipping the meal wouldn’t hurt. It will hurt TO eat.”


UGH. It’s just SOUP, AGAIN. STOP.


I grabbed my bowl of soup and sat down to watch Eastenders with my son, trying to focus entirely on the show while Clippy shouted its objections in the background. It really hurt to eat. Physically and emotionally. It was a battle I felt I had already lost before I even started. And yet, reluctantly, I ate it.


But I still felt like a failure. Because it’s just soup. I hadn’t eaten nearly enough to fuel the day, let alone the added activity from going to the dentist. And yet here I was, coming home and battling OVER SOUP. Ridiculous.


And the more I thought about that, the more upset I got with EVERYTHING.


Later that night, after my son had gone to bed, everything started to collapse. I had angered Clippy by eating a snack and suddenly it was screaming again. The grief from yesterday’s therapy session suddenly hit me all at once. The anger at myself for soup being a battle, for not being able to just EAT.

And then the realisation hit me that I am absolutely NOT in control anymore.
This realisation made me long for WeeGee even more. She would be the one person who would understand what I am going through. She would know exactly what to say. I just miss her so much.

I hugged Buzz Aldrin tightly, tears falling down my hot, swollen face. My body collapsed into a panic-induced meltdown. I knew I hadn’t fuelled properly today. Part of me wasn’t even worried about it. I had been ambivalent before, but today I just don’t care at all. What is happening?
I don’t know what to do anymore. I am so stuck.


This shift in me is obvious even here on my blog. When I started writing, I thought I’d be documenting my recovery from this relapse. Yet here I am, documenting my sinking further into it.
“Recovery isn’t linear.” That’s true. But it’s also NOT supposed to be a continual spiral downward.

I don’t have an answer to this. I don’t know where I go from here. But I do know I needed to write this down. My blog from 13 years ago? It documented my worst ED days — and looking back, it became a protective factor in my recovery. So, future me, if you’re reading this and thinking about changing your intake — don’t. Please remember how trapped you felt today.

A song for fighting what’s in your head.