Friday was a hard day (well, it ended up being two days). I’m in early recovery from my anorexia relapse. There were CHAOS GREMLIN biscoff binge moments, a severe lack of sleep, but throughout all of that there were moments of clarity, moments of love, comfort, bears and bath bombs, and reminders of my reasons to recover. 

The Text of Doom

I’ve been doing that tailored plan I talked about in my Recovery Update post — challenging fear foods, eating an entire sausage roll instead of half. Everything was really hard, but doable. I was doing the recovery thing, even though it sucks.

Then the start of the week hit, and something changed. I got thrown through a loop by something I didn’t even realise was a trigger. I suddenly felt determined to listen to Clippy (my eating disorder) and retreat back to restricting, for safety and survival. It happened after I ate that entire Greggs sausage roll I posted about — and at first, I didn’t know why.

Sunday was Mother’s Day. And on Monday morning, my mother texted me.

I went no contact with her a few years ago because of how much she’s abused me, my whole life. Then, when she tried to do the same thing to my son? I was done.

But even after going no contact, she still tries to guilt trip me, harass me, manipulate me. And it hurts. Especially the day after Mother’s Day. I don’t get to grieve the mother I needed — because the one I have is still around, still messing with my head.

It took me a few days of repeatedly trying, and failing, to get back on the wagon to realise what had actually caused me to fall off of it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to get my body in gear to hop back on. But then, like a wagon riding down a hill with a missing wheel, it hit me.

The Realisation

I’m not great at figuring out why my mental health suddenly crashes. Sometimes there’s no clear reason, sometimes it’s just unseen brain chemistry so it’s pointless even trying to figure out why. But unlike my Bipolar Disorder, with anorexia, there often is a reason. I talked to my friend Hal about the text, and about how much I was struggling in recovery after doing so well. I felt guilty — I’d just posted a blog update and now I was already going against what I wrote. I didn’t get it.

So I told Hal more about the text of doom. The words came out fast. And I realised then — I was triggered.

I’ve been told I likely have CPTSD from the emotional abuse I went through. Emotional flashbacks are so confusing. They just happen, and I don’t always know what set them off. There is no possible way of even avoiding them when you don’t know what triggers them to begin with. Or in this case, I couldn’t see that it triggered me because I really wish she didn’t still have the power to affect me so negatively.

I get so annoyed at myself that she can affect me this way — that a simple text can derail my mental state like that. I often feel broken for having this response. That I can’t just let it roll off my back. No, suddenly I’m the little kid who just wants her mum to love her again. 

Once I realised that’s what caused the crash, I cried. And not in a healing way — in a I’m mad at myself for getting upset about this way. But what also whispered in my mind, the real me:

“I don’t want to let her win.”

I don’t want her destroying what I’m trying to do here. She has no idea what it means to love your child. She’ll never understand the love I have for my son.

And I won’t let her derail my chance to be present with him again — eating pizza, sharing moments, just being there with him, instead of stuck in my head with my brain’s most disturbed passenger: Corrupted Clippy.

So at 2am, because I was so hungry from falling off the wagon, I went to the kitchen. I made a sandwich. A full sandwich. Two slices of bread, ham, crisps, LOTS of salad cream — none of the diet crap. If we are going to do this out of spite, we’re going to do it properly.

And OH NO, that’s when it reared its head — my alter ego.

I had awakened the RECOVERY CHAOS GOBLIN.

The Night We Ate

Bingeing in anorexia recovery usually isn’t. What actually happens is your body, sensing the famine might be coming to an end and food is available because you tried to tempt it with an extra sandwich, takes over.

It’s a survival instinct. Like holding your breath for as long as possible, and then breathing again. When you stop holding your breath, you don’t breathe normally. Your body takes a deep breath or breathes more to restore oxygen levels. It’s instinct. You don’t control it. Recovery bingeing is the same thing.

It means the extra sandwich I just fed my body is now a JOKE. A weak, feeble attempt at satisfying an utter CHAOS GOBLIN. I REALLY hate it. Clippy hates it more. I feel completely out of control.

Soon there were more biscuits than an episode of Inside the Factory — but thankfully Greg Wallace didn’t show up. More thick bread. Bowls of Biscoff Weetabix. Spoons of peanut butter. Protein puddings. Spoons of Biscoff spread, because apparently Biscoff is the official sponsor of my reactive eating. My kitchen devolved into chaos, similar to if there had been an explosion at a spoon factory. Biscoff and peanut butter–smeared spoons strewn everywhere. 

When the CHAOS GOBLIN was fed and finally left, the regret and shame came. What have I done? I just wanted to eat a sandwich. Why is this goblin ruining my plan to increase slowly? Clippy was SO MAD, making me anxious about refeeding syndrome, telling me how my weight was going to spiral upwards forever: “greedy, sad, lack of control.”

Then the reactive hypoglycaemia/high blood sugar entered the chat too, just to add insult to injury. This is why I had a plan for increasing slowly. Soon my blood sugar was higher than the price of Freddos in 2025. I felt awful. Sick. Palpitations. Sweating. I felt like I was really ill, and my heart pounded so hard against my chest wall I swear you could hear it on the outside.

A few hours of high blood sugar madness later, after trying to drink water with the uncomfortability of the fullest stomach I’ve ever had, it was 5am. I tried to go to bed.

I couldn’t sleep. My body was full of adrenaline. My blood sugar was still 10 (Freddo price pre-2020) hours later. My heart rate was very fast. I lay there with my eyes closed, willing sleep to happen so I could forget.

But even with Quetiapine, sleep didn’t come., sleep didn’t come.

The Walk Of Shame To Asda

The morning after — or is it still the night before? Well, whatever day it now was. I decided I should just give up trying to sleep and sit in the living room, get some coffee, move around a bit. It might help my body digest, hopefully settle my blood sugar. I was still awake when my son got up for Uni at 9am. He asked if I was okay, continued getting ready, then sat with me for a little bit.

He was showing me the new items on the Build-a-Bear website and getting really excited. When my son gets excited about Build-a-Bear, I get transported into memories of being in Cardiff with little him. He has a big smile on his face, beaming from ear to ear, so excited and happy to be building a bear. It helped me so much.

After he had struggled with the decision of what he was going to buy in the store today, it was time for him to leave for Uni. After he left, I was still too wired, so me and my still-weak legs from the vitamin D superdose hobbled over to Asda to replace the food I’d just eaten. I figured the air on my face might help. Low-grade activity is the best way to settle high blood sugar.

I bought some CHAOS GOBLIN foods, so if my alter ego was let loose again, I wouldn’t have to worry about my walk of shame to Asda to replace foods like I had to today. I was still full of regret. Clippy was screaming about how I could make up for last night. But I was making pro-recovery choices. Choices to ease the inner CHAOS GOBLIN.

A few weeks ago, I bought a pair of leggings in the sale. I LOVE them so much. I’m pretty obsessed with them and can’t wait to put them back on again when I wash them. They’re like noise-cancelling headphones, but for my body. The problem is, they fit me at the size I am now. So, whilst shopping for CHAOS GOBLIN, I even bought the same ones in a bigger size.

I came home and put the shopping away — this time with higher protein foods, hoping to soften the blood sugar chaos next time. I cleaned the aftermath of the spoon explosion in the kitchen. With the counters wiped down and the evidence of the night before hidden beneath fresh food and order, I could pretend it didn’t happen… and move on.

(Pro tip if you’re going through this too: it REALLY helps.)

As that peace settled over me, I went back to bed. Finally, sleep found me — a light sleep, but still a few hours of it. And I’ll take that.

My Son Softens The Hard Edges of My Day

I woke up at 5pm to the sound of my son preparing dinner. I was so happy he was home. I felt like utter trash. What is it with middle-of-the-day sleeping that makes you feel even worse? Yeah, that.

But… I enjoyed seeing my son.

He’d bought himself a Jellycat Toucan and was excitedly showing him to me, chattering about his day. Then he giggled and hurried off to his room, calling back that he had a surprise for me. He told me to close my eyes and hold out my hands.

I opened my eyes to a VERY ADORABLE bear jumper for one of my bears. He also bought me some Lush products that gave away the surprise by wafting their scent so heavily through the room that I didn’t need to open my eyes to observe them.

“You said you ran out of Lush, so I thought I’d get these for you! The woman in Lush said this Minecraft Diamond Ore Bath Bomb is good for your joints! I smelled all of them and I think you’ll really like it! It was the best one!”

And he was right — it really does smell AMAZING. He also got me my ultimate favourite bath bomb, Intergalactic, and the Intergalactic shower gel. I’m going to have the most incredible bath tomorrow. The scent filled the whole room all evening, just like my heart was full of comfort from my son’s kindness.

I dressed my bear Charlie in his new jumper and couldn’t stop looking at how cute he looked while hugging him. I think it’s just his jumper now. He’ll wear it forever. My son got a matching one for his own bear, Cutie Patootie, who I get to babysit every Tuesday. Adorable little bears in adorable little bear jumpers. Us, in another universe.

My son makes me wish I could just skip to the part where I’m present with him, eating pizza and drinking slushies and bubble tea without Clippy playing it’s awful sour notes. I wish I could just eat like I did the other night and that be it. That it would be over.

But it’s not. I have to go through this part first. This is just the beginning, and it SUCKS.

Eating the day after the night of the CHAOS GOBLIN has been really hard. Emotionally. Physically.

My body is still processing the CHAOS GOBLIN’S Biscoff-fuelled adventure. I am bloated, sore, my stomach is all kinds of wrong, there’s water retention hurting my Vitamin D–weakened knees, and my brain, for how much weight it added.

And I’m so tired — tired from lack of sleep, and tired of all of this. Despite this, I have eaten. And I will get properly back on track tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Increase Day, after all — and I’m adding a whole extra meal.

There are reasons I relapsed. But my son, bears, sparkly bath bombs — and my spite at not letting my mother win — remind me:

There are also reasons to recover.

For the anthem for the post, have a bit of Weird Al:- Eat it! Eat it! Open up your mouth and feed it! :-