Weight.

Weight is such a horrible word to the eating disordered. If asked about or mentioned it can instill such a feeling of panic and fear which is entirely irrational to anyone but us. We immediately think, too much. That is the answer to the word weight. Without hesitating we instantly attribute it to mean our weight and what number came up on the scales that morning. What is it about our brains that make us think about weight and the look of our bodies in the way that we do? Were we just wired incorrectly, is there some rational part of our brain not entirely functioning? A lot of people say that we control our eating because we have lost control over some other aspect of our lives.However, why food and weight? Why would we not choose to control our academic career or simply creating a precise wake up routine for the morning?

So must there be something slightly different about us, whether it is a misfiring in the brain or a personality glitch? I don’t think so. I think it come down to choices. Yes we may be slightly more perfectionistic than most but at the end of the day it is a lifestyle choice. Because it is how we want to live our lives as we are not happy with how they are at this moment. So why the hell shouldn’t we be able to change ourselves in any way we please? If we should have any right, it should be the right to our own bodies. There is not a lot left in life that is truly ours, apart from our own mind, our body and our choices.

Jessica x

Realisation...

I’ve had some revelations/realisations. I am never going to have the life that I want and so desperately need. I don’t know how to accept and cope with that. Most have that quality, that essence which will enable them to find the love of their lives and to lead their own unique but still beautiful life. What happens when you don’t have that? That essence which will enable you to evolve into who you should be. What if you’re not quite right? What if there was a fault in the wiring of your brain? What if you’ll never quite fit?

I may work as hard as I can to change myself or try and accept myself as I am but neither ever seems to work or be enough. Maybe I’m simply not compatible with life. I crave so much all of the time. I crave to love and be loved in return. I crave for people to want me. I crave success and unattainable beauty. I crave to be braver than I am. I crave for people to say good things about me when I die and really mean them. I crave to not want to feel like I have to lie to make me seem brighter or more intelligent or to have to make up excuses for the unbearable being in which I am.

I hope I will find a solution in the near future but for now it would be greatly appreciated if I was written off and started again from scratch.

Jessica x

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”                                       

- Henry David Thoreau

Another Beginning.

I've been wondering whether to join 'Blogger' for a while. You see I have a blog on wordpress with the same title, however much as I love the community there, it certainly isn't as active as this one. So here I am, starting a new but familiar blog. It will be for my thoughts, musings, emotions and anything I wish to express.

Bingeing/purging/starving has always given me a sense of empowerment. It gives me control and concentration. I have gained weight recently and determined to get back on track and reach my ultimate goals. I am determined to be the skinny one, I want to be beautiful, maybe I'll never have the face of Audrey Hepburn but I can certainly achieve her figure to a certain extent. I do think that it is our choice about what we do with our bodies.

Whether we want to nourish or destroy? But which is which?

“Never, never underestimate the power of desire. If you want to live badly enough, you can live. The great question, at least for me, was: How do I decide I want to live?”— Marya Hornbacher

The Concept of the Suffering Artist.

The concept of the suffering artist. The poetic, intelligent yet tragic persona. A Pre-Raphaelite. That is what we want to be. The starving, suffering artist. We would die for our art, our genius.

It excuses our madness and our irrationalities as long as we have that essence, that grandiose quality that makes it all worthwhile. Almost miniscule in comparison to the greater art.

These romantic ideals of a genius living a life of imagination and dreams. To surpass all trivial, material needs. This is mine. My un-realistic image of perfection. Very far from perfection in fact but this is what I envisage it to be.