I’ve reached recovery equilibrium – everything, everywhere, all at once.
My body is growing in directions I didn’t even know were possible for a human to grow. My scale is having a laugh at my expense. I’ve even had to size up my knee sleeves, because apparently, pain and gains come in a package deal. I’ve cried more times than I can count.

But…

As usual, there were little lights in the dark that kept me from falling completely into the black hole. Some of those stars were shaped like my son. And some of them… drew a constellation shaped like Jellycat pigeons.

Squigeon the Plush Pigeon

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ll know that I ABSOLUTELY love pigeons. Especially wood pigeons. I befriended a pair during lockdown – two soft-feathered, cooing little surveillance pigeons who have visited my window every single day since. You can read about them in this post.

I’ve never stroked them or touched them, because I respect that they’re wild. But that hasn’t stopped me from wanting to. Not in a “pet bird” kind of way, just… in that way where you’re feeling awful and all you want is for something soft to sit in your lap. That kind of hug.

So when Jellycat announced they were releasing a plush pigeon, I knew I had to get him. Because, finally, I could hug a pigeon. A soft, silly, ridiculously adorable pigeon – and that was enough reason. My friend Underground Bearista went to Selfridges to get one especially for me, as he was a Selfridges exclusive and I am continually blown away by her kindness. She’s just so lovely.

Honestly, I still felt guilty the second I bought him – it probably wasn’t one of my best financial decisions with the spiralling costs of recovery. My leggings were already getting tight again, my thighs felt like sausages in casing, and I knew I’d probably need new clothes again. I sat there holding this silly little surveillance pigeon thinking, “I shouldn’t have bought you. I should have bought clothes instead”.

But… I did. And I don’t regret it.

Because he helped. Not in a big, life-changing way. But in a small, grounding way. He made me laugh. He made me feel watched – but in a good way. Like someone was keeping an eye on me. Like maybe, even though I was spiralling, someone would still show up by the window and coo for food.

He reminded me of the real ones – the wood pigeons that visit me daily. And suddenly it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like a very soft bird landing in the middle of my breakdown.

I even made him his own Instagram account and it has been a welcome distraction from all of the recovery stress I’ve been dealing with. You can follow @squigeonthepigeon’s adventures too if you like. He’s a cheeky, round pigeon with a passion for Greggs sausage rolls.

Squigeon Needed a Wife

I had so much fun taking Squigeon outside for a walk with my son and snapping loads of pictures of him. But when we came home, I had to put Squigeon in quarantine – for germ-anxiety reasons. I missed him so much. When I went to bed that night, I felt weirdly lonely without him.

I’d made a little nest out of my duvet where he usually sits beside me, watching my MacBook as I fall asleep. He enjoys watching PigeonTalk videos about how “the bird is the word”. But it didn’t feel the same without him. The next day, after freeing Squigeon from quarantine, I was having a rough time – crying a fair bit over stuff I’d talked about in my last post.

Seeing me upset, my son, and Underground Bearista again, surprised me with a second plush pigeon. He said it was to cheer me up, and also because:

“Well, pigeons mate for life. They come in pairs. You were lonely – and Squigeon will be lonely too without a mate.”

I cried again. I was so excited – because I already have two real-life wood pigeon friends, Squigeon and Goose, and now I’ve got two plush ones with the same names. I’m going to have so much fun coming up with stories for Instagram with them.

My son is so sweet. If having the best son in the world could have cured me, he would have.

Iced Coffee Hour with My Son

My son and I have started a new tradition: Iced Coffee Hour. It’s at 9pm every night, and we sit and enjoy coffee together – usually a carton of iced caramel from Lidl it is better than the Starbucks one – and sometimes talk about life while our plushies join in.

Flavoured coffee is still a challenge for me some days, even though I now have it daily. But I look forward to that 9pm treat. Sometimes it’s an “OMG I FORGOT HOW GOOD THIS IS” kind of moment, and sometimes we use it to drown our sorrows. With him going through all the hormonal changes from T, and me trying to survive recovery, we’ve had nights where I’ll say, “Shall we drown our sorrows in iced coffee?” and we laugh like we’re mocking those weird stigmatising Instagram posts:

“We weren’t depressed, we just needed iced coffee.”

Iced coffee doesn’t cure anything – but it helps.

And both of us are fine drinking caffeine that late. It actually relaxes us. I guess my weird genetic trait where caffeine regulates me instead of causing anxiety got passed on. Coffee works better than chamomile tea for both of us. Chamomile just… tastes nice. And that’s all it does.

Handmade With Love

My son recently bought tiny glasses for his tiny Jellycat bears – and honestly, they’re the cutest glasses I’ve ever seen. So cute, in fact, that I ended up getting a pair for Squigeon too.

That’s when I had the idea to make a little macramé bow to match his bear’s new look. My son was over the moon. Turns out, he had already picked out colours he liked and was going to ask me to make one – but he didn’t want to burden me with macramé requests.

But it’s never a burden to make something for him.

So I got to work, making a tiny bow to match the tiny glasses. His bear looked adorable, and my son was so happy and appreciative. Honestly, the whole thing made my heart melt.

Once I finished his, I knew I had to make some for my pigeons too. I ended up making bows in white, purple, and green – and now they look like very dapper little birds. It was such a welcome distraction. While I was making them, it helped calm my brain. And when I saw the final result?

Yeah. They all look really freaking cute.

Recovery Perks

Lately, I’ve started noticing some small but real benefits of eating enough food again. One of them? My bald spots are growing hair.

Anorexia causes hair loss – and I’ve had multiple bald patches all over my scalp. But the other day, I got out of the shower and realised those areas are now fuzzy, full of new baby hairs pushing through.

It’s one of the first visible signs that something is working. That despite everything – despite all the horror I wrote about in my last post – something is repairing itself.

I’m still deep in refeeding side effects. Honestly, between those and the mental health spiral, it’s hard to notice anything good. Recovery tends to get worse before it gets better, especially when it comes to physical symptoms and how you feel in your body. I know things will improve eventually… hopefully.

But for now, those tiny tufts of new hair are proof.
That my body is still trying.
That it’s functioning just a little bit better.
That there is a silver lining – probably a few silver hairs in there too.
And that feels worth holding onto.

Lights in the Dark

So yeah. Everything is still a mess. My body feels unfamiliar, my brain keeps trying to press the eject button, and I’m constantly fighting the urge to vanish back into old patterns. But I’m still here. Somehow. Surrounded by squishy plush pigeons, iced coffee at 9pm, and a son who reminds me every day what softness really looks like.

Recovery hasn’t made everything better. Not yet. But it’s given me pockets of light. Tiny feathered reminders that not everything is lost.

And if all else fails? At least there are pigeons.

For My Silver Linings. First Aid Kit –