I put on my Cyberpunk 2077 hoodie, the one that once made me feel powerful—like I was V, ready to take on the world. But now, it drowns me. The fabric hangs loose where I used to fill it. I might be wearing it, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
Tag: mental health support
The One Where I Gain Cheesy Hot Cross Buns, But Lose Yet ANOTHER Psychiatrist.
Today’s mission: obtain cheesy hot cross buns, lose yet another psychiatrist, and try not to lose my mind in the process. Clippy is feral, the NHS is playing musical chairs, and my son and I are both running on fumes. At least Beean Beeale had fun. Priorities: coffee, pickles, and survival.
10 Of My Most Unglamorous Anorexia Symptoms
Anorexia isn’t glamorous. It’s painful, exhausting, and deadly. I’m always freezing, my hair is falling out, my body hurts from being too bony, and food is all I think about. I can’t focus, I can’t sleep, and yet I still can’t make myself eat more. This is my reality.
The Little Stuff And Things Keeping Me From The Black Hole of Depression
Depression feels like a black hole pulling me in, but sometimes, it’s the smallest things that keep me from crossing the event horizon—a Jellycat bee gifted by my son, the soft glow of a wax melt burner, or a plushie left in my bed to remind me I’m not alone.
My Son’s 20th Birthday – Brownies, Bears and Silently Battling My Depression.
My son’s 20th birthday was filled with brownies, Jellycat bears, and love — but also an exhausting battle with my depression. I gave everything I had to make his day special, even when my mind was fighting me every step of the way. He smiled all day. I just wish I could’ve felt it too.
My First Grief Therapy Session Was Unexpectedly EVENTFUL
Imagine sitting in the metaphorical waiting room for therapy, convinced your name will never be called. Then suddenly, it is — and an hour later, you’ve had massive realisations about grief, silence, and finding yourself again. My first grief therapy session was unexpectedly eventful, and it’s just the beginning.
Stuck in Ambivalence: A Day in the Superposition of My Eating Disorder
Ambivalence is a superposition—wanting and not wanting recovery at the same time. This is what living with an eating disorder looks like: battling decisions that shouldn’t be battles, facing Greggs like it’s a boss fight, and walking away from cheese like it’s a trap. Clippy wants control. But so do I.
Eating Disorders in Your 40s: What No One Talks About but Should
Eating disorders in your 40s are isolating in ways no one talks about. Perimenopause, body changes, and the loss of identity as a parent collide with an illness society believes only affects teenagers. This post dives into my lived experience of navigating these challenges while feeling unseen, unheard, and unsupported.
Bleaching My Sons Hair While Our Universe Succumbs to Maximum Entropy.
When everything crumbled — blood tests, eating disorder relapse, endless chaos — I leaned into maximum entropy. Physics couldn’t fix it, but it made sense of the mess. So, while our universe succumbed to entropy, I bleached my son’s hair. Order emerged in the chaos, his hair flawless, my new Jellycat pig, Hamilton, watching.
Facing Myself in the Reflection of a Pastry Counter – A Day In My ED Relapse.
Greggs was my safe haven—until Corrupted Clippy hijacked it. Standing at the pastry counter, dread replaced joy. My eating disorder, unnoticed for weeks, now controlled me in ways I couldn’t deny. I’m grieving not just food, but the pieces of myself it’s quietly stolen. A fight I didn’t see coming
Absurd Universe 