For years, I believed age and chronic pain had taken art away from me for good. A year of recovery, deliberate nutrition and strength training later, I picked up my pencils again.
Tag: eating disorder
If You Buy That, You Will Eat It
I’ve been doing recovery “wrong”, apparently. I eat protein bars, track my food, weigh myself and make choices that would horrify parts of the recovery internet. And yet, I’m recovering. Here are some recent wins - including buying food despite Corrupted Clippy helpfully warning me that, horrifyingly, I might actually eat it.
The Katsu Chicken Bake At the End of the World
A bad perimenopause day becomes an argument with my OCD, a hunt for missing medication and a walk through town feeling more like my shadow than myself. Somewhere between Welsh graffiti, questionable mental health advice and Corrupted Clippy offering an escape hatch, I decide to eat the Katsu chicken bake anyway.
This Story Gets Hairy
I went from brown hair to brown hair via a spectacular detour involving Vantablack ends, Anish Kapoor jokes, a scalp that felt sunburnt, and enough hair dye to chemically alter my postcode. It also turned into an unexpected lesson about how invisible struggle can be.
The Collapse and the Suspicious Croissant
Recovery did not just bring weight gain back. It brought me back too. My intensity, my emotions, my curiosity, my writing, my ability to feel present in the world again. The terrifying part is that becoming yourself again after grief means learning how to sit with an entirely new version of yourself and more importantly, not running away.
I Ate More and Accidentally Became Myself Again
I thought eating more would just mean gaining weight. Instead, everything came back - my energy, my thoughts, my emotions, and parts of myself I’d kept muted. It turns out you can maintain your weight and still be underfuelled, and fixing that doesn’t just change your body. It changes you.
A Month Of Sitting With the Discomfort
I thought “sitting with the discomfort” would feel calm, controlled, maybe even empowering. It doesn’t. It feels repetitive, frustrating, and loud. Like arguing with myself every day over the same things. And still, despite all of that, I keep choosing to stay and do it anyway, even when it feels impossible.
The Bin Bags Full of Ghosts
I wasn’t just clearing out my wardrobe. I was letting go of versions of myself I had held onto for survival. Some protected me. Some hid me. All of them mattered. But I don’t need to be them anymore. I can carry what mattered, without carrying everything that kept me there.
I FINALLY Have Greggs Iced Caramelised Biscuit Latte at Home BUT BETTER!
Yes, this is an ENTIRE post about Iced Biscuit lattes, and how they've given my life meaning recently. One must imagine Sisyphus drinking Iced Biscuit lattes. There's a recipe if you want to make one too.
The Paradox of Urgent Rhio and Scared Rhio
For months I thought nothing was happening because I was too scared to move. But writing this made me realise something uncomfortable: Scared Rhio wasn't completely stalling. She kept going while terrified. Maybe recovery isn’t waiting for Urgent Rhio to fix everything. Maybe it’s learning to collapse one wave function at a time.
