Rounding the corner of 2013

It's time for the obligatory end-of-year post where I mull over one random timespan and project film and tv depictions of young adult life/insecurities about what my friends on facebook are getting up to while I for the most part sit eating yoghurt and chocolate raisins/all of last years low points and failures onto another random timespan in most likely a vague, predictably clichéd and unrealistic way. 

I'm not under any lofty illusions that last year was the best. year. ever. and that next year will be the best. year. ever. where I solve the Arab-Israeli conflict and get 55254 likes on a photo of me on a beach, jumping in the air, silhouetted against a sunset, with arms outstretched and inexplicably perfect hair as if to say 'I have reached my full potential in 2014. Years from now people will look back and say: 'Ah, 2014, that was Esther's year'' I always get annoyed at myself for writing such long sentences when I blog. Here's a short sentence.

I think the first thing to say is that this year has flown by and was characterised by big changes. Although I started at university in 2012 it feels like this last year was when I really came to terms with it and stopped entertaining ideas of dropping out.

Centre: The frepping team for Collingwood Freshers' Week 2013 - October; Clockwise from top left: Dressed as Barbie for a Toy Story themed fancy dress formal - November; with my three housemates before Summer Ball - June; being 'proposed' to on Collingwood Day - June; a Lumiere installation - November; after dip-dying my hair pink - February; seeing Stornoway in Newcastle - November; 'Refreshers' event in Newcastle - January; fulfilling my childhood dream of going to Hogwarts - August; Stornoway - November; in charge of college gay pride weekend - November; Collingwood Day with my housemates - June; Winter Solstice with the President - December; outside the European Parliament in Brussels - September; Lumiere installation - November; seeing Les Misérables on the West End - April; with friends on the beach at Aldeburgh - July; photobooth at Winter Solstice - December; Atomium in Brussels - September; Durham Cathedral upon my return - September

2013 marked changes in terms of moving into a student house, as well as starting all my new modules this September. I went on my first holiday without parents, went to my first concert, saw a musical for the first time and broke up with my long-term boyfriend. It also marked a change with regards to my attitude to problems, I feel like I've been facing them rather than avoiding any troubles that pop up. The year also saw me making a load of new friends, passing my uni exams, putting on weight and feeling a whole lot better in myself, feeling closer to my family, getting more involved in charity work and being a fresher rep in September for my college at uni - truly one of the best, if most tiring, weeks of my life.

Obviously each year brings with it its difficulties - uni wasn't always particularly easy, I didn't ask for help when I needed it and breakups can be a bit naff in some aspects. Looking back though, despite sometimes feeling like I was really low and hating life there are surprisingly few negative points to make about 2013. I perhaps spent a bit too much money and let my worries hold me back a little bit especially when it came to going to events/parties. I could have worked a bit harder at times and been a better friend. I also failed to turn into Jennifer Lawrence/Beyonce which is the ultimate disappointment.

The next year is shaping up with various meetings already booked into my beloved filofax. It'll see me turning 20 (dear God please no, it's a slippery slope from here onwards and I REFUSE TO GET OLD),  battling with essays and exams that actually count - God help me - going to Germany on a field trip, stumbling my way through attempts to have some form of love life, taking part in my college's production of Grease and trying to put a bit more weight on and tick off the last few things on my fear list.

I don't do resolutions, so all I can really say is that I hope by this point next year I'm happy with how I've responded to whatever has been thrown my way, I've done a bit more exercise and gone to a few more parties/events instead of avoiding them because of petty worries, I've started applying for jobs FUTURE ESTHER YOU NEED TO APPLY FOR JOBS NOW  and I'm a bit heavier.

Goodbye 2013.
See you next year,
Est
xx

Festivities and Fa-la-la-la-laaaaaa-ing

I have arrived home for Christmas to a fanfare of trumpets and adulation from my thousands of fans who lined the streets to see my return to Suffolk. Part of that might be a slight stretch of the truth. Having spent the past week in bed and/or visiting a close friend in Bristol I now have 4 weeks left in this rainy, sleepy, flat little patch of the world before my return to Durham. I do take the mick but my lovely lil' hometown is like a familiar beacon of safety whenever I come back. Maybe it's the well-trodden path by the river and the little line of shops and cafés etched into my memory so well I could navigate them in my sleep, or being around all my oldest friends and my family, or just being somewhere with no hills that makes me feel so comforted.
Despite not yet feeling particularly festive, something I put down to my old age (sob) and the distinct lack of snowfall this year, I can already tell that this Christmas is going to be filled with family, friends and food, with as little stress as possible. I will do some work though, honest, I will. Probably. Maybe. A little. Perhaps. 
I may be writing this from bed, my skin may have broken out into a 13 year old boy-like state, I may have just this very second felt the knife to the heart of realising I let a cup of tea go cold and the worst of all 8 Harry Potter films may have been on tonight (HP+HBP, for its focus on the ron-lavender-hermione love triangle as opposed to the interplay between dumbledore, snape and harry, obviously) but I'm just feeling very positive about life, especially on the back of a wonderful trip to Bristol. It was lovely to slot right back into place with one of my best friends after not seeing one another in any other way than a Skype screen for about 15 weeks. Lying in bed with her eating chocolate and watching films (yeah, let's stick to the feminine stereotypes) gave me warm, fuzzy 'I love life' feelings I haven't had in a long time. Such is the bad influence she has over me, I have possibly gotten another piercing which hurts when I smile, each time I adjust my hair and whenever I add/remove layers of clothing. I also may have gossiped and moaned with her about single life after drinking a respectable amount of Bombay Sapphire and cocktails before getting a full experience of Bristol nightlife, complete with scoring a triple 20 in darts versus a group of late twenties/early thirties sadly spoken-for men dressed up as Anchorman characters (my proudest/strangest moment). Good to get that out of my system. Watch this space for me pursuing a career as the next big darts thing.
Christmas, as anyone afforded the wondrous luxury of an eating disorder* will tell you, is not always the most wonderful time of the year, but I'm screaming 'f*** it' to the world in many ways in my life right now, so that's the approach I'm taking with food too. We're talking currently-playing-Taylor Swift 'f*** it' sentiments, to give you a sense of scale.

*So much sarcasm. Dripping with sarcasm.

Eating Disorder Revisited

This post could trigger some people. Please take care, but what I'll do is put all the tricky bits after a jump break, if you don't want to read anything that may upset you then stop there.

It comes as no surprise to you, I hope by now at least, that my relationship with food is not always a-ok. I thought I had everything relatively under control (aha I spend my life controlling myself) but living out this year - instead of in catered college accommodation like last year - is presenting me with new challenges. Now I don't mind a challenge, bring it on, but I won't pretend that I'm always enthusiastic about facing challenges related to eating head on. Some days, like today, are calamitous. Good word. Today was bad for specific reasons I won't go into now for fear of triggering someone but suffice it to say my diet was silly and that I'm now wide awake at quarter to 2 thinking about it incessantly.
 I can easily find myself wanting to throw things (preferably lots of pieces of paper-that always looks dramatic) into the air and scream 'To hell with this!' but that option isn't really there for me. If I run away from a problem today, I will only have to confront it tomorrow. I know I'll have good days and bad, but at times when every day is just plain average it quickly becomes demoralising.
The issues I'm having with food at the minute are complex. There are practical problems like how much I'm spending on food, it's so expensive-who knew? I tend to quell this worry by thinking that in the future when I am saddled with debt I highly doubt I'll be ruing the days I bought fresh meat and lots of fruit, more likely I'll be regretting buying quite as many jumpers/scarves. Seriously though, Durham is cold, I can justify those purchases.
Also fresh food needs to be used up quicker than I anticipate so perhaps some forward planning from me would help to map out what I'll eat when and ensure food doesn't go past its best sitting in my fridge. This could help get me to stick to eating full meals too, as if I've made the commitment in writing that I'll be eating salmon and veg on Thursday I'll be more likely to keep true to my plan and do it. The actual cooking of the food is fine, despite a few frantic calls home about how much spaghetti constitutes a portion. I'm impressed at my abilities, in particular my Thai Green lemongrass and ginger prawn curry. *Awkwardly waits for applause*

 On the whole I'm fine but I worry about how varied my diet is, in a way I suspect other students don't have to. If I have a day, or worse a few days, where I don't eat much I get intensely anxious that I'm getting ill, whereas my housemates given the same situation could just accept that they weren't particularly hungry. Some days, like today, I struggle to eat meals and instead just snack aimlessly in the hope I'll eventually take in enough. Obviously that's hard given the nutritional value of most snack foods. I can see that some of my habits aren't healthy, but don't necessarily know how to fix them, and quite frankly can't be bothered with the effort. If I can coast by like this, then should I? Equally - I worry that when I go back home my routine is going to be thrown way off course, having just settled into one here.
Overall I feel I've reacted to the stresses this term has given me pretty well, in fact I've gone full circle and have been eating more when I'm stressed than ordinarily. Shocker. I can't help fearing that as my tell-tale troublesome familiar stresses peak over the next two weeks (academic stress is the absolute worse for me) I won't be as successful with managing it. I can feel it happening already but don't feel able to do anything about it. Accepting a relapse as an inevitability seems like I am an utter failure though. I am so tired of it that I could cry. Hard times indeed.



This is why today was bad, don't read if you're going to find it difficult to see what I ate today, please please please.

Dwindling Motivation and Poorly Skippy Hearts

I am really struggling at the minute to even get through a day without wanting to nap or curl up into a ball and pretend the world doesn't actually affect me.
Perhaps it's because it's the holidays and there's nothing much to do although I have internship work to be getting stuck into and could/should be reading up early for next year's degree course.
Perhaps it's because I am perpetually shattered considering it's currently 2am and there is no hope of me being able to sleep due to my mind whirring like a machine this trend will likely continue.
Perhaps it's because you know what I am fed up of doctors having had 19 doctor/nurse/psych/hospital appointments since coming back home at the end of uni and I am weak and feeling oh-so grandly sorry for myself.

It's bizarre.
I have always been a hardworker.
Not even that, I've always been a work-herself-to-the-bone worker (yes I understand the cringe of the to-the-bone reference) and yet I've found myself so.....meh....about doing anything.
Then I sit here.
Lay here.
At night and mull over how useless I am for wasting a day.
A day that could be used to be a better person. A smarter person, a happier person, a prettier person, a more popular person. Somehow.
I have no motivation to leave the house.
Or to be happy.
Or to eat healthily. And with that I wonder why do I even need to care about eating healthily? Should I care about eating healthily? Is this a bad thing to care about?

I'm not even sure how I feel.
I hate doing nothing.
But right now I don't want to do anything.

The doctor fandango is exasperating. I feel like I get passed from person to person to person, and that more often that not they see eating disorder and blame whatever I'm seeing them about on that. I've now been given tablets for my stomach which has been causing problems for years now but I can't even motivate myself to take the pills. I'm still waiting for someone to take my heart seriously. It trembles and skips and flutters and pounds and pauses and tightens, not like panic attack palpitations, like it genuinely forgets how to beat properly. It does this for maybe 15 minutes at a time every few days. It's starting to scare me, but worrying about it won't help.

Being thin is not the answer. Video.

So I probably shouldn't post two videos in a row (profuse apologies, some proper writing will be on its way) but I'm in this one, spot me if you can - really not that hard, I hold up a sign with my name on....

I answered a twitter call to help someone with their project on eating disorders for their YouTube channel, and it's not a bad video, if a little long and difficult to read sometimes!

Here are my pictures from the video, 

Now off to finish re-reading HP (PoA).

The Big Black Cloud of Low Self-Esteem

self-es·teem

 

noun

1.

a realistic respect for or favourable impression of oneself; self-respect.

I spend most of my days repeatedly mulling over negative thoughts about myself, and continually feel like I am just 'not good enough.' What it is that's indicative of my unsatisfactoryness (no, not a word, but we'll go with it) varies on a regular basis, it's sort of cyclical. Be it my academic pursuits, my body, my general appearance, my mind, my social life, my job prospects or anything else that can be applied to me I promise you I've felt like it's unworthy of the slightest bit of praise. I've never really put my finger on why my self-esteem is frankly non-existent but it's probably (partially) due to my perfectionism. If it's possible to get a better mark, to be prettier, to be funnier, to be kinder or more liked then that - in my head - is a sign that I'm nothing special.
It would be a relief to have one day where I'm not weighed down by the burden of disliking myself, or wishing I were a different person altogether. The number of times I've dismissed compliments or refused to go out because I don't want to be seen/spoken to is mounting up as time goes on. Having low self-esteem wears me down, I wake up already ill-equipped to face the day with a cloud of self-loathing looming overhead and it makes me more vulnerable to low spots and panics.
It was when I was completing a CBT exercise recently, that asked me to focus on one thing I was proud of and happy with about myself a day that I realised something that could be a bit of a game-changer....*whisper it now* I actually do quite like a fair few things about myself. Shocking.
My hair, though not what it once was -sigh, screw you eating disorder- is alright, actually. My skin, though not perfect, is quite good, my eyes are ok, although I kid about wanting a nose job there are no glaringly obvious faults with my face and my body is pretty well proportioned. Tall and slim. People go on about wanting this sort of figure all the time. And yeah, I wish my chest were larger, and I'm really not keen on my arms, but am I ugly? I don't think so. I'm ok. Ish. Whilst I've never thought of myself as intelligent people tell me that's the case, and I've achieved academically, if that's what you choose to measure it by. I love my degree, take pride in my work and got a 2:1 for first year *fist-pump*. I've got friends and a boyfriend, who I'm happy-as-larry with, and I am eventually learning to like the person I'm becoming.
It seems the problem I've had has always been what other people thought of me, or rather, me second-guessing what other people thought of me. When I get down because of my appearance it isn't because I particularly dislike the way I look, it's because I dislike what other people may think of me. I don't like that other people may think I'm a bad person or that I'm stupid or annoying and I take that worry and extend it to the assumption that people do think badly of me, they must think badly of me.
All this focus on what other people think is tiring as hell. Especially when in all liklihood I slip past without them noticing my bad hair day/that I mispronounced Morgenthau. Plus if someone doesn't like me, for whatever reason that may be, do I really want to spend copious amounts of energy worrying about that and trying to change his/her mind? Do I want someone in my life if they're going to be negative? Of course not. So if I apply that to myself...do I want the negative part of my brain in my life if it's only going to be negative? No ta.
I've never liked the techniques I'm sometimes told to use of telling yourself 5 happy affirmations a day or sticking positive I-love-myself notes all over the place, it just seems too self righteous. But maybe I could start detaching myself from other peoples' opinions by focusing more on me and what I want, not running through 'oh but what will people think?' before each trivial decision I make.
Wisdom done and signing off for the night.
xx

'The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself.' - Mark Twain

 

The curse of returning home

A personal post

I am starting to think that I will never be free from what my brain is inflicting on me.
Being away at university obviously has its plus points. Independence, meeting new people, a fresh start, discovering new things and exploring new ideas, immersing yourself in a subject that truly interests and excites you, having fun while you're young and all that #YOLO stuff. What I'm feeling at the minute is the backlash from coming back home. It happened at Christmas and Easter, and I am fed up. Change in routine is not great for me, it shakes up everything I've settled down and calculated for myself and effectively feels like starting again every few months. The contrast in environments puts a weight on me each time I switch, and all I really want to do is shake it off entirely.
Going away with - as my mum puts it - 'eating wobbles' was never going to be a walk in the park, which is a shame, because I love walks in parks. The whole process of applying for university in the first place was marred by the state I got myself in. At one point I wasn't sure if I'd even be finishing Year 12 let alone getting A-levels and going off to uni like everyone else. I had no clue if I'd be well enough to go 2012/13 or if I'd have to wait at home and watch all my friends move on from our sleepy little town because I wasn't well enough to go, and I couldn't begin to predict what sort of grades I'd get given the stress I was putting myself under. I only considered unis that had catered facilities, as no one really trusted me to make food for myself, which meant ruling a lot of places out.
There were days away from home where I didn't eat as much as I perhaps should have, but generally it doesn't particularly cross my mind. I feel in control and able to choose my actions, not dictating my day or social situations around food and comfortable plodding along at my own pace. I feel like the best steps I've made in getting better have been as a result of being at uni. The food in college isn't always great, let's put it that way, but I eat a fair amount and spend a huge sum on biscuits, yoghurts and other snacks to keep me going.
Every time I come back home it's a massive step backwards. Because most of my family are out all day I'm usually in charge of my own food, which even though I could sort out I inexplicably don't. I don't feel hungry at home, I don't particularly have any desire to eat any food here, all my old anxieties bubble up to the surface again, eating socially becomes difficult. I'm worried that my life's going to stay in this crappy cycle of steps forwards and backwards. Like a hope-inducing, misery-inducing, emotional pendulum of disordered eating. No sooner than I feel like I've made progress is that snatched away from me. It's tiring having to go over the same old ground and problems repeatedly. To be honest I'm giving up hope where I once was optimistic and convinced of eventual success. Putting in the monumental effort to eat when I simply cannot bring myself to is proving too much of an effort to maintain day in, day out.
I really want to know that one day this will all be over.

Don't Call Me Crazy (episode 2)

So I said I wouldn't be watching this documentary again...clearly I lied. I have to admit I was gripped by the individuals' stories and the raw insight into life inside the psychiatric unit. Again I, along with many people on my twitter timeline, found some of the footage distressing and even triggering, but overall I feel the series is powerful because of the real way it shows the lives of those in the McGuiness unit.
Two of the young people we saw last week, Gill and Beth, were again featured on this episode, and seeing their stories progress was one of the best things about the program. Eating disorder sufferer Beth was still visibly struggling with food but over the course of the hour we saw her gradually progress and move to different eating plans. What I have to say from watching the show is that the food in the unit looks terrible. A lot of chips and burgers, generally most of it looked grey and incredibly unappetising, especially when food is so important to our healthiness (both physically and mentally) you'd have thought the food would be a lot better and fresher. Unfortunately the stress of eating more seemed too much for Beth, who used self-harm as a mechanism for punishing herself.
Self-harm was something we saw a lot of throughout the episode, with many on twitter saying they found such images troubling and harrowing. I would personally contest that showing as many self harm images as BBC Three did was helpful, viewers didn't need to see as many minutes of scars as we were shown. Beth commented that it was entirely normal for those within the unit to harm themselves, and that everyone had done it, despite regular room inspections and staff keeping on top of the innovative ways in which they could cause themselves harm.
Gill, the other patient featured on last week's episode, has scars right up her arm from where she has cut herself. She explained the development of her severe depression as 'everything just got on top of me and I couldn't cope.' Fortunately she was shown to cope with her condition better as she reconnected with her family, who she hadn't seen for 6 months. Gradually she was granted more freedoms and moved from the acute corridor to the general ward.
We were introduced to a new patient this week, the youngest on the ward at 14, Crystal who has seen hallucinations of people and animals for 6 years. The images she sees tell her to do things that she feels she has to obey such as not eat her food, self-harm or kill her adoptive dad. Watching Crystal interact with her visions seemed remarkably like a child playing with their imaginary friends, except with a grave underlying tone.
Christmas on the ward was very difficult to see. It felt to me as though the 8 people, Beth and Gill included, who were unable to get leave were trapped there, even though they were there for good reason. It was sad to see Beth remarking that it didn't feel like Christmas to her because of being in such a detached, lonely environment.
What we need to be reminded of is that though patients in units like this across the country are living away from their family and confronting very 'adult' situations, taking control of their lives and even considering ending their lives they are just young people, separated from family, friends and the lives they've come to know for months on end with no knowledge of their surroundings or when they'll be able to leave.
In fact, the psychiatrist reiterates this point by stating that family ties are the key relationships throughout childhood that influence everything, the way you interact with society and the relationships you build. Family are also, as in Gill and Crystal's cases, seen to be instrumental to recovery.
Whilst I still don't feel like the program will get people engaged and opening up about their own mental health in the way that it could have done had they filmed it differently I do think that Don't Call Me Crazy has provided a look into the support needed for someone to overcome a mental illness. I particularly loved seeing the get well soon cards in peoples' rooms as that's rare in cases of mental illness.
It looks like next week we'll be seeing some boys too which had been one of my grumbles with the show so far.

Reasons to Recover

A personal post

If you've read the little About The Girl tab, or some of my other posts, you'll know about my EDNOS diagnosis. In brief, it's an eating disorder that began from long term deep-rooted issues with food and reared its ugly head in sixth form. In contrast to the other conditions I suffer from, it's one that I strongly feel the desire to eradicate from my life. But as many of you will know, unfortunately you can't just click your fingers and be done with a condition once you decide to overcome it. It feels like it's taking forever and often I forget how far I've come. Sometimes I just want to give up entirely and this is the list of things I remind myself I want to change by leaving disordered eating behind me.

Without struggle there is no progress

• I want to know I will always be able to eat at a restaurant/at someone's house without feeling sick
• I want to be able to eat in front of anyone, and not have to revolve/organise my life (or other peoples' lives) around my eating problems
• I want to stop the panic attacks
• I dont want to be ashamed of myself, or feel that others are embarassed of me
• I want to stop wasting food due to not being able to finish it
• I'm fed up of my hair falling out and constantly feeling freezing cold
• I want to be able to have more confidence in myself and my abilities, and be more comfortable with the way I look
• I want to live the life I had planned out for myself before I got ill
• I want to be able to go out and be around people without constantly comparing myself to others and fearing being judged
• I hate feeling hungry, faint, and nauseous
• I want people to stop feeling sorry for me and worrying about me
• I want to be healthy and have more energy and motivation
• I want to break the cycle of being consumed by negative thoughts and living life in misery
• I want to have children, one day
• I want to be able to look behind me and know I conquered everything that was thrown my way
• I want to help other people

Don't call me crazy...

I realise this was a few days ago now but I've needed a couple of days to myself recently. Figured I'd do a piece on the BBC Three documentary that aired as part of their 'mental' season earlier on this week.
The show, called Don't Call Me Crazy, broadcasts the inner workings of one of the many young mental health units in the UK.
Viewers witnessed teenagers struggling with a range of issues, OCD, severe depression, anxiety, eating disorders and self harm in a very raw and real way.
I feel the show did a lot to break down negative stereotypes, such as OCD sufferer Emma explaining that the condition isn't merely liking things neat, it's a deep compulsion to do things a certain way in order to avoid severe repercussions. She also said the very poignant 'OCD doesn't define who I am' which helps to paint the image of mental illness not being a characteristic of the individual. Beth-who was in the unit for anorexia-a beautiful, bubbly girl, similarly said that people fail to understand mental health problems because they can't be seen.
It was brilliant to see the people on the program have their own identities and lives outside of the disorder, like 'normal' teenagers do. Loving college, dancing, films, messing around and dying their hair.
I'd say that the documentary, although accurate and shocking, focused too much on the outbursts and negative episodes, with very little attention paid to the treatment the guys in there received. We saw Emma enter and leave within a dramatic space of time, with no examples of treatment for her disorder. Similarly there were a lot of scenes of screaming, wall-punching, face-down-restrained teenagers, and images of young people huddled in a corner with blankets over their heads. The overall outcome was a rather bleak one.
As the program progressed the story of Beth developed and worsened. I nearly switched off having to see her struggle to eat carrots and a protein drink. The turmoil she was so clearly going through made me feel sick and fearful. Eventually she was sectioned under the mental health act, and as she wept I did too.
Unfortunately since the show aired she has faced a few spiteful people on Twitter commenting about her weight which is incredibly dismaying, but the outpouring of support for Beth in response to this was encouraging.
It was an emotional, troubling, saddening program to watch. I'm glad it was made, I'm glad people can see the horror mental health problems can cause people, and I'm in awe of the brave teenagers willing to be filmed at their most vulnerable points in their lives, but I don't think I can bear to sit through next week's episode.

Video of the day...Company magazine's 'skinny club'

You tell 'em girl. The battle between censorship and common sense comes to the fore when such silly articles are published with no accompanying warning/opposing view/real-life statistics/medical advice. I could only read half the article in question.

A tragedy worsened? Amy Winehouse and bulimia

 I've tried hard to make sure this piece is not triggering but please take care

I wouldn't ordinarily engage in speculative writing. All too often thinly evidenced articles are bounced about which essentially say someone - by this I mean a celebrity -  'looks' like they're having a breakdown, or that sources (who are in most cases very far removed from whichever individual it is) have indicated so-and-so has been eating less/drinking more/taking pills. Ultimately it amounts to damaging hearsay about a real, actual, in-possession-of-emotions, person's private life. This however I feel is different. In a piece that's all over the internet today Alex Winehouse, brother to the late Amy, has stated in his first interview since her death that his belief is that she died of bulimia. 

Amy died almost 2 years ago aged 27. I can remember finding out, through twitter, that she had been found dead and my reaction was bizarre. I was saddened, disappointed and shocked, but for some reason I wasn't surprised. I know this response wasn't unique, Amy's battle with drugs and alcohol had become public, as had her relationship, with photographs plastered in every newspaper of her apparent deterioration. With her brother's detail about her ongoing problems with eating it could be said that everyone was too quick to judge her lifestyle. She was a beautiful artist, with feeling in what she sang, and her brother's interview has only made listening to her music sadder for me. I'm noticing lyrics that I didn't before, and the meaning that could be behind them.

Alex said that despite the recording of misadventure for her death, 'what really killed her was the bulimia' because her lengthy fight with it had made her 'weaker, more susceptible.' He was recorded saying that Amy had developed the illness in her late teens alongside some of her friends, but had never herself managed to stop. The last thing I read of his interview was stressing the need to raise awareness of bulimia - a 'dark, dark issue' - which is definitely something I'd support. 

From my own experience, barely anyone has even heard of EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) despite the fact that according to some statistics it accounts for more diagnoses than all other eating disorders combined.

 People hear eating disorder and assume restrictive eating, when in many cases that description doesn't fit. Although most people have basic knowledge of what bulimia is, true understanding is rare. The prolonged torment it causes is hardly ever spoken about. I've 'exhibited bulimic tendencies' within my EDNOS diagnosis before and all I'll say is they were the worst months of my life. Bulimia can, unfortunately, affect people for years, and hearing of Amy's connection to the illness has made her story all the more important to share and learn from.