WE WERE ON A BREAK!

I never thought, as a choc-avoiding anorexic, I'd be taking advice from a bloody chocolate bar.

I've always been a bit of an amateur teachers pet; licking arses, wanting to get top marks in my coursework. I've always been a people-pleaser, petrified of disappointing people. I've always wanted to be noticed and acknowledged (jeez, I'm so self-obsessed), and I am definitely a sufferer of FOMO,* So the prospect of abandoning ship - or pedalo - just to 'have a break' felt like I had stood in dog shit. 

*Note I only just found out that FOMO stood for 'Fear of Missing Out'. I've been missing out on feeling missed out...

Firstly, I want to make this clear; I love the NHS and think that what they do for us is impeccable, however there is no denying that some services need a bit more attention... particularly mental health. Yes, yes, we all know I ended up in hospital (again) last summer because of that shitty eating disorder I have and it was pretty shit blah blah blah.


Deciding to self-discharge from hospital was a bit of risque move to make, but having not received any psychiatric help or therapy in my whole time spent in there, I began to lose motivation and that nasty ol' bugger Depression was turning me into a misery guts. So, yes, I left the hospital on my own accord and still having a bit of oomph left in me, I decided to take the year out from university and basically... sort my fart of a life out.


Sure, being away from my friends at university and moving back in with the rents felt like a massive step back. I'd essentially entered the world of 'independence' and 'responsibility' only to have it swiped from me and chucked back into the world of teenage daughter syndrome.

I could tell you that this year has been the best of my life, but my memory is shit and I am pretty sure that 2003 was the best year of my life. (I went  to Disneyland Florida and Beyonce released Crazy in Love). However, this year has been pretty good. Boring for the majority, but a step up from the bog that my life had been previously.

Dedicating time solely for myself feels awful. There is SO much that I could have achieved this year; I could have done charity work, I could have gotten a job, I could have built an arc. I keep dwelling on what I haven't done this year but in reality, without this chance for working on my (abso-bloody-lutely) mental state, then I would never be able to achieve any of those things. Having this year out has given me that boost to actually live life now, rather than just go through life on this humdrum auto-pilot setting.

They say that everything happens for a reason. I don't know who 'they' are but I think 'they' might be on to something. God clearly had a plan for me, and having to take a year out was (much to my frustration) was part of it...

• THERAPY?! (Ugh).

The only type of therapy that has ever helped me has been that of the retail sort. Finding the right therapist has been central to my recovery. I've gone through the NHS motions of waiting lists, and ticking boxes with psychaitrists but nothing ever worked. Unfortunately the lack of funding in the NHS doesn't help and I inevitably ended up going private. But my oh my, it has been the best money I (or my parents...) has ever spent. My therapist has been incredible and has allowed me work on myself for the better, challenge my illness, and importantly nourish my brain. I've always hated the thought of therapy, and psychatrists, and any sort of conversation about what's 'actually' going on in my head, but big up Sandra for giving me hope in life that some professionals do actually care.

• MI PAPA Y FAMILIA

I've not been the only person in my family who's had to 'take a break' this year. Being home for the year meant that I could help my dad in his own recovery from a stroke. Actually, from multiple strokes - poor fella. Having a mutual hate of hospital, a need to get better and see-saw motivation attitudes has been incredibly encouraging for one another. Of course our recoveries are completely opposite but having somebody understand how fed up with how slow things feel yet worth it all is, has been all the more worth getting better. 

Oh and my brother and wife only went and had the most adorable twin girls this year that I wouldn't have been able to see half as much of had I hadn't taken this year out.... SO CUTE!

• ME GONE N GOT A BOYF?

Yeah you all know about this because I don't shut the eff up about it. Him. Not it, him (soz Lewis). Yeah it clearly was 'destiny' (cringe, vom, ew) me being home this year as I found the love of my life. YUCK, SO CRINGE. I don't want too write to much about him, even though I could write a bloody dissertation about the guy, because you guys will all need sick bags. But getting better has given me confidence (and hormones) to meet somebody and hey, I did. Not only does he make me feel fantastic about myself, but I am finally beginning to ignore what shit-brain anorexia tells me because my mind is elsewhere... usually daydreaming about how we are like a Disney couple. (Falling in love does wonders, would 10/10 recommend).

• ME GONE N GOT A BOOTY?

This is the first time in YONKS that I haven't been a douchebag and relapsed in my gross skeletal shell. Instead, I've gotten much healthier and... *drum roll please*.... have started going to the gym!
HA!
MOLLY WYATT! DOING EXERCISE! YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST! 
Yeah having  a boyfriend has helped me accept my body for what it is much more, but now I have the energy to become a healthier, better, less-lazy potato. My rear has gone from pancake, to a flat peach. Not quite a proper juicy peach yet.




I'm still not 'there' or 'fully recovered' yet but am the best I've been in at least half a decade. 

Now time to get back to University, and become rich and successful.....

P.S Massive thank you to my family, boyfriend, therapist, Liv, JC (Jesus Christ) and my Cardiff friends for not forgetting about me or giving up on me.

MWAH.