Warning, may act as a trigger

December I fought the urge to harm. But January I caved in. But this time it was different. Before there was that sense of relief, sense of release, sense of escape. But now there was nothing. Just emptiness, apart from that question of why, why was I doing it? What was I hoping to achieve?
Where there was once self loathing, there was now none, where there was that desire of self abandonment, there was none. All that there was were just blood and the thought why? Why had I done it? what had I hoped to have achieve? How could it achieve anything if that self destructiveness is no longer calling out to me.
All that is left is silence , a big gaping hole where that hateful voice used to reside that once called out to me to destroy.


Letter to myself: 13th February ’18

Dear Eliza

Hi again :) Welcome to the end of another day. Just to tell you that I’m proud of you. That I love you. That I’m with you. That you are okay. And that you are worth it and deserve it. Well, that’s the point always in writing to you. Yeah Eliza I’m proud of you. For doing your best. For trying to work through things. For doing what you think is the next right thing. I’m proud of you as you mess up (throw up). Coz’ you’re doing your best. I love you always. When the world give up you have your greatest ally at your side – yourself. You’re doing your best, your best may not be exactly as you wish it would be, but you’re doing whatever you can and putting in as much as you can. You are okay. Regardless of anything going on around you. I’m sad for you and with you. That it’s all gotten to be way too much so you’ve covered it all with a film. You loved that you were livingĀ in the world. I loved that you were living in the world. You still are, but with some disconnect. I guess that’s what messing with food via throwing up is giving to you. If it were to lose weight or disappear you’d stop eating. Throwing up has never caused weight loss for you. And although I’m sad that you’ve covered the world again, created a distance between you and it, I’m also okay with it. That you’re doing what you can to stay safe. Although it’s not the most amazing way to keep yourself safe, I don’t actually know of another way for you to have stayed tuned into it all and (can’t read what I wrote :( ) it and stayed safe with it.

And Eliza, you’ll get it back. I think you’re more present now that you used to be, so even though it is not as tuned in as the past couple of months, they’ve given you something, and you can and will get back there. I guess that’s why you stopped throwing up a few months ago without actively trying to stop, for you didn’t need it, so it tapered off itself.

You’re okay Eliza. You will get there. Follow your dreams. Keep on doing what you are. One day the pieces will fall into place. You can and will do it. I believe in you.

Love you Eliza,


Seventy Six: Badges of Honour

Used to wear these scars as a reminder of the shame when my weakness shone through, of when I broke and succumbed to the voices of self hatred, of when despondency took over and the only escape was this.

For the few who saw these scars I could sense, feel, smell even their revulsion coming through which almost mirrored the loathing I had for myself. All I knew, all that I had acceded was that each scar hid the ugliness within myself. It almost acted as a protective barrier, preventing others from seeing me from the way which I viewed myself.

But now, these marks no longer bother me. People can look, stare, mutter amongst themselves. But I no longer feel shame, no longer feel obliged to look them in the eye and ask for forgiveness.
And the reason why? Because I wear each scar as a badge of honour, a sense of pride of having come through those dark nights. Each scar I see as a battle I fought with myself and won.