They say that girls mature faster, but the question i’m struggling answering is when do boys ever mature? when do they grow up and realise that games are just that games, not a lifestyle?

I curious if it only applies to guys who played games when they were younger, for example my brother (30) still plays computer games and whatnot, and i’m assuming he’s replaced them slightly with poker, but then my dad doesn’t play any games, but he’s still into sports? i don’t know really, but i think it’s sad when you’re gaming habits affect your life in negative ways (now don’t get me wrong, this can happen to girls too.. just not as common).

If playing a game is more important to you than meeting up with someone to sort out your future, then you need to look in the mirror and grow up. If playing games prevents you from doing coursework for university.. you need to grow up, or drop out, because you’re at uni to learn, not to fuck about (as most people in London seem to believe). and if playing  games prevents you from doing your job properly, then you need help.

I just have never been so obsessed with a silly game to drop everything for a new release, so i don’t understand these boys. i think it’s pathetic.

first night in my new bed and my new flat. just going to put a few things in the closet, and then all that’s left tomorrow is the rest of my clothes then i’m fully moved in!

im really happy in my new flat, was a good move and im so thankful for simon. dear lord that boy puts up with a lot, don’t know what i’ve ever done to deserve so many good people in my life. thank you mamma and pappa, we all know i wouldn’t be here without your help

but the question is how long does it take for your wounds to heal?

three years ago i entered the hospital scared, lost, and helpless. i left ready to take on the world again. ready to eat and be healthy.

today i sit here and wonder how far i’ve really come.

am i really that different from the bulimic girl i was three years ago? yes and no.

i’m still me, i always will be. part of me curses myself for being me. i don’t want these feelings, i don’t want these thoughts. i want to be ‘cured’, but that’s the problem isn’t it? you can’t cure an eating disorder. it’ll be with you till the day you die. you have to choose to ignore it and live your life without it. i used to be really proud of myself for how far i’ve come, now i’m just wondering if this is as far away from ED that i can get? maybe this is it. maybe this is as ‘cured’ as i’ll ever be.

lately i’ve been struggling a lot. i don’t know why to be honest, it just came out of no where. maybe it’s the winter darkness and cold, maybe it’s the fact that i know i’ll be in a bikini in a couple of weeks. maybe it’s because i feel alone? i don’t know, and i think that’s the worst part. i wish eating disorders were black & white, easy to understand. but they aren’t, they are like a coded map that leads you to a hidden treasure. a treasure that doesn’t exist.

i hate my body. i hate waking up and looking in the mirror. i hate eating. i hate not eating. i’m constantly in conflict. i break down constantly. constantly. i just want to feel okay. just okay. not good, not fine, not ‘cured’. just okay is all i’m asking for, and i can’t even get that.

i’m just fed up with it. trying to keep it all together, when i just want to break down. i’m tired of being strong. sometimes i just want to be that weak girl, the one seeking help. i want to feel okay about asking for help, but i don’t. i makes me feel weak and stupid. i hate it, but asking for help, but it helps.

tell me that i am not the only one going through it all.

as i was sweating while helping matt move his things yesterday on the tube, i was thinking about how different my life could be.

two years ago i was driving around in a car that was 2 years old. my parents paid for the gas, the insurance, and everything that came along with owning a car. i went to a private school. i wore new clothes and went shopping at least once a week. i didn’t have a care in the world.

today i’m still going to be attending a private school. my parents still help pay for rent and food. however so many things in between have changed.

i traded that car for public transport. i traded shopping for a flat in central london. i traded that chanel purse for a 12 year old one. i wear clothes from last season, and i barely ever have the money left over to go shopping.

now the question i asked myself is, which one was better? the material life or the city life? would i prefer to have anything i desire or do i want to pay out of my ass to live in a small flat?

the answer is i don’t care anymore. the material things, yes i still want them. i’d be a fool to say i didn’t. yes i want a car. i want a chanel bag. i want to be fed with a silver spoon.

now, in no way am i saying i’m not spoiled. because i am. simple as. but the difference is that today, i appreciate it. i know the value of money. and i know how much my parents are helping me, and i hope they know how thankful i am.

the quality of life is so much more important to me than the quality of my next pair of shoes. i’d rather be happy in a place i love than unhappy surrounded by money.

what would you choose?

i don’t know if i can do it this time. i don’t know if i can forgive someone who dislikes me for who i am. someone who won’t bat an eye lash when i’m sat there in pain and i need help. someone who will ‘help’ when it suits them. not when they’re tired or ‘sick of my bullshit’. i don’t know if i can do it. it’s not worth it to me. if you can’t love all of me you don’t deserve me. i don’t deserve to be treated like that. i’m tired of tip-toeing around you because i’m scared you wont like what’s really there. i can’t do it. i will not change who i am because it’s not good enough for you.

the reason i have this blog is because it helps me. it makes me happy, it allows me to let go of my negative emotions, it allows me to vent when i can’t turn to anyone else. it allows me to deal with my emotions in a positive way. it’s not for me to write shit about other people, even though i do vent sometimes. it’s not a place i go to do my dirty work. if i have a problem with you, i’ll go to you personally. i can’t take people getting upset over my blog because it’s pointless and stupid.  i’ve gotten comments from people saying that i whine a lot and that im always negative, and on the blog it seems so a lot, but people have to understand that when im happy, and truly loving my life, im not sat in front of my computer. i’m out there doing things, being with the people i love. then at the end of the day i may choose to share what i’ve done with you guys, or i may not. unlike a lot of blogs my private life is often on display. i don’t have a problem saying the truth, admitting to mistakes, or reliving the past. i do it because it helps remind me of the pain and hurt i dealt with. and i hope that it can help others as well. i want people to know they are not alone. eating disorders, depression, drug problems, bad days, good days, nobody is ever alone. i don’t really know what i’m trying to say but i appreciate the comments. negative or positive. i appreciate people reading this. i appreciate waking up to facebook messages from my friends and acquaintances making sure im okay. it’s a nice to know i’m not alone. it makes it all worthwhile.

what do you do in a situation when you know someone who’s digging themselves a hole. someone who obviously is divulging themselves into an eating disorder. someone you’re not close friends with. someone you don’t know much about to be honest. someone who you still want to help. dear girl, i am here. i can give you advice. i can help you. you do not want to go down that road that you’re on. it isn’t a game you want to play. get out while you can!

watched an episode of house yesterday and well it totally took me back. he’s in the hospital in the psych ward, in group therapy and individual therapy. the point systems. the ‘quiet room’. ugh everything.. hmm sounds familiar! gave me a bit of a shock actually. i haven’t thought about being in the hospital for a while now. at least not that in detail. i remember all the group sessions. laying around on the couches, in my sweats, ugg slippers, no makeup.. mm then going to ‘school’ for two hours a day. i swear i got more done in there than i have anywhere else in my life! i actually enjoyed studying then because it gave me an out. didn’t have to think about improving myself or my feelings. ugh. all those after eating charts i had to fill out. what i’d eaten, how it made me feel, what i was thinking while eating and after. the games we had to play while eating to keep our minds busy. my super uncomfortable bed. the first night was by far the worst. weening off of the adderall, freezing and sweating all at the same time. couldn’t sleep and had no choice if i wanted to get up in the morning. i don’t actually remember much from the first couple of days. just a lot of crying, seeing my parents, and more crying. im thankful for my time there, it gave me a rude awakening. i needed to fix myself. i messed up with the drugs again after that, but i never relapsed with bulimia. coming up on two years free from the hospital now in december.. who’s gunna celebrate with me?  ;)

yeah im being a baby. i know but i cant help it. after all im still not ‘grown’ i dont turn 18 for another month and ten days but yeah thats not what this is about. dads first procedure was done today and went fine. nothing out of the ordinary, he even refused to lay down when i told him to. when will he ever learn? so the thing is next week he was supposed to go to Dubai and a bunch of other places for business but thats not happening anymore cause thats when hes having his real surgery. ugh i hate this all. afterwards hes gunna be doped on morphine and in the hospital for a week, only to come home to me taking care of him for another week. dont get me wrong i dont mind taking care of him at all. i mean hell thats the least i can do right? but yeah im scared. i dont wanna see him in pain. i dont know if i can handle it. what if im not as strong and supportive as i should be? what if i cant change his bandages cause of all the blood and stuff? ugh. lifes so unfair people shouldnt have to go through shit like this. i hate it. i hate all of it. specially since im the one whos gambled with life and didnt loose a thing. why does he have to get the short end of the stick?

i struggled with bulimia for too long. yet its no where close to being as long as some other people have been fighting the battle against eating disorders. i just want you guys who are still fighting to know that it isnt hopeless. you can and you will get through the rough patches. life doesnt need to revolve around food. you can be happy. you can fight it off. you will win the war. everyone is different and unique in their own ways, it doesnt mean your fat. picking apart your body and deciding whats good enough wont ever make you perfect. it will lead to more self destruction and hate. and if you have a scale, break that thing to pieces and throw it to hell. a number shouldnt be all you are. live life. get help. you can do it, i promise.