MY ONE THOUSAND WORDS
A picture tells a thousand words. In the day and age of social media, there are thousands of pictures for thousands of people to see but equally, there are thousands of words that these pictures hold but don't convey. To help establish more balance within this culture we currently exist in, I've decided to be vulnerable with you and explore the truth that is 'A picture tells a thousand words'.
I was lost in a concrete jungle, fearless yet so fearful at exactly the same time. Sickly, I felt on top of the world. Not because we went to the top of the Ferris wheel but because I didn't believe anybody would stop me from falling so, so far down. I was severely struggling with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. My perception of what was safe was skewed entirely, unable to trust in my heart to discover what truth I wanted to live. I was in the company of others but felt alone, stuck in the jail of my mind, the actions of my hands and the emptiness within my soul. But through the presence of my soul sister, I felt a light that I hadn't felt in days, in weeks. We held each other's hands and giggled and screamed the way I used to when I was a little girl. Although I'd never experienced this moment before, I felt an omnipresent sense of nostalgia. There, in that moment, the coldness at the tips of my fingers became warmed by hers, I found hope as I looked into her smiling eyes and safe within the space that her spirit filled. In that photo we were two free happy women but within the words, it was just my special girl and I against the world.
A very dear and wise person in my life told me how my illnesses all thrive in isolation. Being anywhere in my head in solitude is the loneliest place I've ever been. Because without love, connection and life, my thoughts have no truth to be compared against and they have no reason to be anything short of loud, fierce and brutal. When I first became ill, I loved being alone. I was devout to my diagnoses, in particular anorexia. It had big dreams of flourishing and thriving and before it could reach fame in the spotlight, it had to murder me in the darkness. When it's just us, I'm so afraid. It has no limits and if I show any signs of weakness, it will attack. Breaking an eating disorder rule is incredibly difficult. The willingness to want to retaliate against anorexia in any way is undoubtedly, an accomplishment. I couldn't bear any longer to have my worth decided by the numbers on the scales that stared back at me each morning. It made me feel more small, unimportant and unlovable with every growing day. And so I stopped. For five sweet months, I lived somewhat obliviously. Although it didn't prevent physical decline, it made the mental struggle more manageable. I became afraid to be left alone in a house with a set of scales. It took everything in me to do the opposite of the one action I was burning to engage in. In the picture, maybe you see a girl by a wall with some lipstick stroked on her lips and her hair up in pins but in the words, I am the girl who was more fearless than she ever believed she could be. In those words, I was brave.
Explaining the element of trauma that contributes to eating disorder treatment is complex. On one hand professionals have to take measures to save your life and on the other hand it's those measures that, on an emotional level, also kill you. On the children's ward for eating disorders, the rooms are filled with positive quotes, drawings and activities and the walls are painted with bright colours. My first hospital admission was at eighteen, barely an adult but nonetheless, an adult. The approach for adult psychiatric illnesses is entirely different to its approach for children. The loneliness that exists in the four white walls encompassing the bed that you must strictly adhere to is remarkable. It feels like a jail sentence. The 'rules' in place make you feel like a criminal, like you've done something wrong to end up with a mental illness. Sometimes, staring at those walls for a few hours felt like days, months, years. The nurses either watched you like an animal in a zoo or spent their shift as though you're a ghost. They refused to simply ask if I was okay. The fear at meal times was a laughable pawn in a game, dismissed and belittled, the funny joke with the punchline of the girl who was afraid of food. As my days began to melt into each other, my soul, my life and my emotions melted into each other too until I began to identify more with being a patient than I did a person. Except there was one thing and that one thing saved me. That one thing saved me from wanting to die. That one thing saved me from living a lie. That one thing saved me from the coldness of that mundane room. Its name was Archie. The sweet, intuitive, excited face that despite how long I'd been away from home, never managed to forget my face. He remembered me and that made me feel special, in a time when I felt like the most un-special person in the world. His spirit filled the un-fillable room I inhibited. His spirit filled my heart that was barren of love. His spirit filled my mouth until my lips curled allowing for my innate sadness to dissipate with a broad smile. In that photo was a dog. But in the words, my refuge was there, written in the stars.
Dolls, It's easy to make assumptions about people, their experiences and their lives based on their photos. There truly are a thousand words to every photograph which means there are a thousand explanations to the moment captured. We cannot critique what we do not understand so be patient, be forgiving and be kind.
Kisses,
COS x
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