The truth is with mental illness that sometimes you can take all your meds, try to think positively about your situation and do absolutely everything you've been told to do, and everything will still just feel completely and utterly awful.

It's a truly rubbish, horrible, debilitating feeling. And the silliest part of it is that your brain then goes into complete overdrive to make you feel as bad as humanely possible about the fact you're struggling in the first place. Ive tried so hard to do things right. I've tried to take care of myself, I've tried to do everything the doctors have asked me to do, so why? Why am I being so ridiculously, infuriatingly useless and selfish when there are millions of people worse off than me? Why can't I cope better, like everyone else? Why am I so awful? Why am I crying over a sock? What the hell is wrong with me???

The other really scary, impossible part about dealing with this feeling, is that sometimes (and frighteningly often), there's just just no warning at all. You just wake up at 4am, and you want to die. You're surrounded by people, coping, and suddenly everything blurs and feels completely alien. My newest favourite analogy for this bit is that bit in Doctor Strange where Ancient One punches Strange's astral form out of his physical form. You're sort of 'there' but you aren't you and you're also completely not there at all. Dissociation is weird  (and sometimes annoyingly difficult to deal with) as fuck. Even if you realise what's happened, you're kind of just staring at yourself blankly, or banging on a soundproof glass door. (I told you right? it's WEIRD). 

The difficult thing is, when this happens - when those days where everything is too much hit, on the weeks and weeks where all you can do is sleep but you're never really sleeping at all, when you try to read and the words wiggle up and down and blur into alien squiggles in front of your eyes, you kind of 'have' to keep going.

I'm 22. I'm not a little girl any more, or 17 anymore, much as I might feel it inside. I'm scared and vulnerable, but I'm also 'grown up'. I have to be responsible for looking after myself, for my mum's benefit, my family's benefit, if nothing else. I cannot put myself back in hospital when my mum is worried sick over my Gran being ill. I cannot retreat into myself and starve myself when I've committed to shows and projects and campaigns that rely completely on me being physically well enough to sustain them without breaking. My body and mind wants to stop everything, but I have to keep going with everything I've got. So what can I do?

The truth is, when things get really really bad, sometimes the suggestions that come under ways to practice self-care just aren't realistic. When everything is completely awful and you're physically struggling to get out of bed because everything about your body feels so heavy and broken, sometimes yoga, or a run, or calling a friend, just isn't going to happen. I've made a little list of 10 (and a bit) things you can try to do (or adapt to what you feel you maybe can try and do), when everything is impossible. These things basically dragged me through my degree by some miracle even when I wanted to disappear. No matter how rubbish things are or how claustrophobic and impossible they get, I hope they might be able to help you too. 

1) Remember that there is no 'right' way to practice self care

The most important thing to remember in all of this is that really really really, you can't 'fail' at self care. No matter what your head tries to tell you, there is no right or wrong way to practice self care, and truthfully it'll be different for everyone, and different even just on different days. Sometimes bedtime yoga and herbal tea to help you sleep is going to help, but sometimes if you're exhausted and all you want is pizza, curling up in a blanket and ordering dominoes is going to help you lots lots more. The point of self care is to listen to what your body and mind needs right here right now, and to be as kind as you can be to yourself in that situation. If that means running until you can't anymore, or curling up with a cup of green tea & honey, or meditating on the things you're grateful for, that's okay. If that means a long cry, spooning your dog and a whole packet of Jaffa cakes, that's okay too. 

2) Try to make your bed

I know. This means getting out of bed - but trust me, even if it's only for a couple of seconds, it's worth it, especially if you've been living in your bed for hours or days. If you can, try to strip your bed and throw all your bedding and PJs in the washing machine with a big scoop of softener. (I know this sounds like the hugest, most impossible task in the world, and in all honesty I have on multiple occasions ended up too exhausted to put the sheets back on, and curled up in a cocoon of my clean, warm bedding on the floor instead, but that's okay too). It might not help fix anything, but it'll maybe help you feel a little tiny better and more human when you climb back into clean, fluffy sheets. 

If washing your bedding is just too unbelievably impossible, try to brush the crumbs off your mattress, shake out your duvet, fluff your pillow. It'll help too I promise.

3) Try to take a shower 

Again, I know, this sometimes seems like such an impossible thing, but the power of a shower to wash off everything that's happening and make you feel a tiny bit more like a human being is invaluable. Sit on the floor if you need too, let the water run over your face (hot or cold), try to wash your hair with proper conditioner, shave if that's something that you prefer to do, use a nice smelling body wash if you have one (don't worry about applying it properly if you're too exhausted, just the smell and idea of washing away everything will help). If showering is too much, wipe over yourself with baby wipes, under your arms, your legs, gently wipe the sleep away from your eyes. Brush or tie up your hair. Try to put on clean pyjamas or clothes that you feel comfortable in. 

4) Water

I'm awful at this when things are bad, partly because of my ED history I think (I hate feeling 'gluggy' or full, of anything) -  but it's so important. Nothing feels as awful as being dizzy & perpetually dehydrated as well as a mess inside. Try to drink a glass of water if you can, maybe warm if that's easier to swallow, and keep one by you to help remind you. (Don't drink the one that's been sitting out on your desk for a week, you deserve better than dust water). If going to the kitchen to get one is too much, or you're too exhausted to keep refilling and things, try to get one of those big 2 litre bottles and keep it in your room next to your bed. This'll help to keep yourself drinking enough and looking after your body's needs without having to face anything or anyone else when things get too hard.

5) Food

This is hard. It's hard when you don't struggle with food as an entity in its own, and I'm ridiculously bad at dealing with this so I feel a little hypocritical and embarrassed saying it, but the truth is our bodies NEED food, even when the only thing you can do is breathe. Cooking proper food can be totally impossible when things get messy, but if you can, try to make sure you keep quick little things and like toast and porridge or soup around (my go-to is always marmite toast and cut up apple). Try make yourself something warm and comforting, even if you spend the rest of the time eating cereal out of the packet. It's stressful and hard I know, but you'll feel better and your body will be super grateful for proper nourishment. I also find sometimes that it's kind of helpful trying to eat tiny things at vaguely proper-ish times, just because it helps break up the day a bit when everything else is so blurry and same-y. You deserve it I promise.

6) Watch something familiar

This is a bit of a cliche one too, but it's safe and it's familiar and those are always good things to surround yourself with when everything is shitty. Some days realistically I can't even actually watch anything - it doesn't penetrate the bubble of numbness I'm in or make me laugh or cry like it should, but especially if you're on your own sometimes the background noise is enough (this helps pass time too). My go to in this scenario is always always friends or Tangled, something easy and that you know so well you don't even have to think about. It might not feel like it's helping, but a bit like music (classical music is amazing therapy too), sometimes it just helps you not to feel so alone.

7) Pets

Pets are the best therapy in the world when they're in the right mood, and sometimes when they're not too. I'm hugely lucky in that I have a goofy dog who loves attention and two cats who happily just sit and purr even from a distance, but sometimes they just are not having it. If you don't have pets or your pet isn't in a 'fussy' mood, try and look at baby animal videos or videos or if you feel up to it, take yourself to your local pet shop and look at all the critters there instead. I highly recommend baby pangolins and otters.

8) Family/Friends

I'm awful at this. No matter how much I try, my automatic and unbearably horrible response to things getting bad is that I just shut off from everyone and everything. I hate myself bitterly for it and it's scary and so frustrating I could cry, but my head just shuts down. The truth is, this is when you need people around you the most, even if you want more than anything to be alone. If it's all too much, try and keep photos of your loved ones on your phone and save texts from your parents siblings and mates etc to look at when you're sad and far away, and maybe try to send one text a day. People care about you, no matter what you do. Even if it's just 2 seconds for a hug, or braving going outside to go for black coffee with your mum (which I've done lots), let people care about you. It's bitterly hard, but the people who love you most really will love you whatever happens. 

9) Sleep

My sleeping pattern is a notorious mess even when things are more 'okay'. I can't get to sleep, or I wake up, or I can't wake up at all, but I'm always always frighteningly exhausted. Sometimes you just get those days where you can't do anything but sleep, and that's okay. You're not being lazy, promise. Your body needs rest and sometimes the best and most caring thing you can do is let yourself sleep. If you can, trying to get a vague sleep pattern in place is good even if you aren't sleeping, again just to regulate time a bit I guess - I find that sleeping with a hot water bottle or microwave hottie helps even when it's not hugely cold outside, just because the warmth is comforting to curl up with. Trying to rest somewhere other than your bed when you aren't sleeping can sometimes help a bit too, just so that you have a bit of a change of scene. It sounds silly and pointless, but sometimes breaking up associations with your bed a bit will help too.

10) Remember how far you've come

You're here. You're still breathing, and even if that's the only thing you've done today, don't let anyone make you feel guilty about it, ever ever. You've survived every single one of your worst days so far, and you know what's even more amazing than that? You can do it again.
Never ever feel bad about trying to be kind to yourself when you need it, no matter what that might mean for you in that moment. Take yourself for a walk if you can (this helps break associations too) and notice tiny things to keep you distracted, or open your window a tiny bit if going outside is too much to bear, just to let some air in. Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee, even if you only cradle it a little bit for warmth and comfort. Remember all the times you've felt like this before, and all the lovely or important or tiny memorable things that have happened since. Try to think of a Disney film or book or favourite thing about winter for every letter of the alphabet (but don't worry about skipping a letter if it's too hard). Know that you're safe and valued and loved. You're fierce, brilliant and astoundingly brave just for existing, and I have so much faith in you. You do deserve to feel happy and looked after, and I'm so infinitely proud of you. 

Xx

This is only going to be a little teeny post, because it's late and to be honest i'm still super nervous and paranoid about the fact that when things have been so messy and hard my ability to blog has just gone to absolute pieces - but I felt like it was really important to acknowledge even in the smallest way how important today/this week is. So here!

Today marks the beginning of Eating Disorders Awareness Week 2017, aka a super-important week aiming to raise awareness of this horrible, debilitating and relentless illness and break the frightening amounts of silence and stigma that surround it.
I haven't always spoken as much about my difficulties with eating disorders quite as much as I have about depression and anxiety etc. This is partly I think maybe because I was so young when everything first went horribly wrong, to the extent that in all honesty I don't remember my life before having an eating disorder - but to be truly honest it's also partly due to the amount of stigma-orientated hate and frustration I still have against myself in my own mind. I will try and talk a little bit more about my own story this week, which is terrifying, but I've made a promise to myself to try and be brave - for the sake of maybe helping others if nothing else - but for now I just want to talk a little bit about why it's so important to break the stigma surrounding eating disorders, and maybe what we can do about it this week and hopefully beyond too.

When people talk about depression, they often talk about how one of the most crippling difficulties with it and with other mental illnesses is how invisible they are, and in some cases how seemingly easy they are to hide. I know i've done this too - the whole metaphor with how you can't tell someone with a broken leg to 'just walk'. The horribly difficult thing when it comes to eating disorders is that sometimes you can see it, and that's the 'acceptable' default image of an eating disorder diagnosis that dominates our entire society, including the GPs and medical health 'professionals' we need to access the most.
The truth is, you can't always see an eating disorder, and for that reason they are one of the most deadly, isolating, corrosive and destructive mental illnesses we're facing; 1 in 10 of those suffering from an eating disorder will be killed by it. Eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes, races, genders, sexualities and classes, strike without any warning at all, are relentlessly cruel, and bitterly isolating. And because we as a society still only really accept one 'kind' of eating disorder - the emaciated white teenage girl - the silence and secrecy around these illnesses in an increasingly diverse society is more stubborn and frightening than ever before. (NB, there are plenty of ED sufferers who do fit this type too, and their pain is just as valid and frightening- it's just that right now I want to talk a bit about the countless others who don't too).



(TW - this bit contains details of ED behaviours)
I have been hospitalised for my eating disorder twice, once just after my 11th birthday, and again when I was 12. But this doesn't accurately or truthfully measure the amount i've struggled with it. You can't count the severity of someone's illness by the amount of times they've been hospitalised, or their lowest weight. Two hospitalizations almost 10 years ago now doesn't show you the other terrifying times my weight dropped, but not enough to be 'worthy' of help. It doesn't show you the countless lunchtimes I spent aged 16 nibbling half an apple and a cereal bar, and hating myself for the rest of the afternoon over the sugar in those 100 carefully calculated calories. It doesn't show my daily routine aged 17 of crying, confused out in the rain at lunchtime over the calories in gum and nursing diet coke, because that's what society had assured me that 'real' anorexics did, so why wasn't it enough and why couldn't I just fucking do it properly? It doesn't show the amount of times I burst into tears in the middle of the cereal aisle at uni, or the first time I resorted to making myself sick for eating a 'normal' amount, or the fact that the whole of the last 3 years has been a cycle of starving a bit, panicking because I don't have 'time' to be ill anymore, disappearing at uni to make myself sick, gaining weight slightly and losing everything else trying to cope with it. I'm a stable-ish weight at the moment, and a semi-healthy one, and it's catastrophically frightening, sickening and exhausting. I don't 'look' ill, so I hide everything and constantly and jeeringly doubt myself that I even am, or that I ever have been. I can't 'recover' right, and I can't please my eating disorder right. I am a colossal failure in every conceivable fucking way.

The truth is that in second year (the last time my weight dipped enough to worry anyone), I only 'got better' because I had to. My parents were about to take the chance to perform at the Edinburgh Fringe away from me and my uni life was completely on the edge because I just wasn't coping in any way. I was about to lose the one thing I love doing, and the one thing that makes me vaguely a person in my own eyes, and all the independence and everything that came with it. (Also, crippling amounts of fear and guilt at the amount of 'wasted' money if I had to drop out of my degree). It wasn't an option. I'm not a little girl anymore, I don't have time to be sick, I can't I can't I can't.

But even at a healthy-ish weight, or the way I am, the difficulties haven't stopped. In fact the truth is that sometimes when you're in 'recovery', or you don't 'look' anorexic, is when things get the most terrifyingly tiring, mocking, hopeless and hard. I am not currently in specialised treatment, because there was a complete mess with my files when I moved home from uni (a whooooooleeeee other story…), but the doctor I do have dismisses anything I dare to whisper to her about my mental health almost laughably. My body image is crippling. One moment i'm making myself sick because of a single flapjack, the next I'm panicking about the damage to my body and having things taken away from me, or hurting my family, or I get attacks of extreme hunger and all the starving i've done goes completely to shit. (My mum's mum is ill at the moment, so though my family are lovely and have been amazing throughout all this mess, at the moment if I show any hint of being unhappy such a huge guilt trip ensues that I can't bear it). I look healthy, but I faint or get chest pains randomly all the time, my metabolism is beyond fucked, my period has been monumentally messed up for as long as I can remember, and eating puts me in pain daily. I still don't see food, I see numbers. Things have been horrifically worse for me and I know that more than anything, but X years on they aren't right either, and it's frightening.

I promised that this was going to be a short post and it's turned into a little bit of a messy ramble instead, but I hope it makes some sort of sense. In short, Eating Disorders Awareness Week is crucial because this horrible illness is still so desperately stigmatised, simplified and misunderstood at every level. Even in recovery, we don't talk enough about the invisible dangers that haunt sufferers both physically and mentally day in and out. Heart problems, brittle bones and infertility all wield their own silent vengeance regardless of how much you recover, or how much you weigh. Eating disorders don't just eat away at physical weight, they eat away at everything you are inside and out. It's time we set the record straight for sufferers, for professionals and for everyone, and hopefully we'll help save lives from the pain of this horrible illness as a result.

Support Beat-ED's EDAW17 Campaign here: https://www.b-eat.co.uk/support-us/eating-disorder-awareness-week
(I'm also supporting B-eat by wearing silly socks ever day this week for their #sockingit to Eating Disorders campaign, so expect lots of sock fun soon too!) x