Those Clunky Days: Writing

Year nine rewritten, another section of my novel awaits; year ten when grumbling discontent pecks at the ritualistic nature of my anorexic, adolescent existence. I read it over noting the schism between the words on the page and the words I’d like on the page.

I’d love the writing to convey the essence of my experience, clear, varied, unique and unforgettable. I remind myself of the beauty of the creative process. Sometimes it’s frustrating. On those days I sit here, looking out at the rainbows cast by a crystal hanging on the porch and trying to get the words to flow.

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Just Change

A difficult decision had come to fruition, I’d sold a dream I’d created, the family had grown up. Stress, anxiety, overwhelm…  Life gave me lemons but I struggled with the recipe for lemonade. Change still tasted a tad sour.

My feelings took me back to when I was fourteen.

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The Slippery Slope

‘I’m not really sure what’s going on with me and food.’

There are so many misconceptions around anorexia. Most people living with it are misunderstood, brandished as:

  • Attention seekers
  • Vain
  • Control freaks just to mention a few.

But it is much more complicated than that. Life becomes unbearable during the anorexic experience. Pressure builds up slowly but surely. Many women subject themselves to this choice, life in the pressure cooker.

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