Sex, Drugs & Anorexia

Dear my delicious Shopaholics,

Another day, another Blog Post. I'd like to hope that boredom is never in the air as one of my angels reads COS but I know with complete certainty that it will not be in the air as you read today, Dolls. It's hard to say whether sex, drugs & rock 'n roll plagued the 70's or if the 70's plagued sex, drugs & rock 'n roll but what I do know is that this phrase was born into an era of scandal, temptation and chaos. Whether you've suffered from an eating disorder or not, you will have a newfound understanding of its perfect place in the world of sex, drugs & rock 'n roll after this week's COS Blog. Although I'm not an illicit drug advocate, alcohol isn't illicit and if sugar really does help the medicine go down, you're going to need a candy bar today, Dolls. In this case, your medicine is alcohol and my blog is aspirin.

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SEX

Sex. Not everyone loves to talk about it but everyone loves to have it.

Sex. Not everyone has it but everyone chases it.

Sex. Not everyone needs it but everyone wants it.

Shopaholics, Sex is often depicted as crazy, wild and taboo, especially in the era of rock 'n roll. Musicians had morally questionable sex with avid fans, we saw the rise of the AIDS epidemic and the notion of 'sex objects' was as prevalent as ever with icons like Marilyn Monroe. But Dolls, I'm saving this type of sex for another day. The type of sex I'm talking about is the more convoluted sex. I'm talking about the sex that means something... when it breaches the stage of infatuation and is about connection, adoration and passion. It's this type of sex that cuts you right open, with your guts spilling out and your heart left on a steak to be prodded with, tormented and cut into a million tiny fragments. There is nothing more completely terrifying than exposing yourself to a person in such a raw way. But it is most terrifying when you expose yourself in this way to the wrong person. Someone with a mind of their own, a person who will stop at nothing to put their needs above yours and who doesn't care whether they leave you dead or alive. I met a person like this once before. I still know her. And her name is Anorexia.

Anorexia is a cold-blooded manipulator. She promises me a world of security and offers me fulfilment within her rules. Her. Stupid. Fucking. Rules. I love the reliability of her rules... the fact that I have somebody I can count on when I feel that my place in the world is so incredibly unimportant. But when her rules tell me that I can't do everything my soul and heart desires, I am inevitably left feeling even more powerless and isolated than before. It's a form of torture. Like a vacuum, she sucks up the freeness of my spirit. Similar to the intimacy of sex, I begin to feel close to Anorexia. I have spent so many days devoting myself to her rules that I have formed the most intimate of relationships with her. But days have become years and though our relationship is poisonous, I have never felt such a strong sense of attachment to another person. I hate to admit it, but I love Anorexia. In all of her destruction, complexity and deceitfulness, I love her deeply.

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DRUGS

Dolls, I hate to break it to you but pretty girls don't do drugs. There is nothing pretty, sexy or classy about getting high & injecting shit into your bloodstream. My opinion wasn't so popular back in the day, However. Drugs were a part of this 'glamorous' lifestyle led by rockstars and everyone wanted to follow. But the glamour wears off, Dolls, when you're passed out in a hotel room, waking up to some guy you don't remember fucking and are so shit-faced you can't even read the time. The glamour wears off when your past your peak age of 24 and are now going on 50 spending your savings on buying the very thing that is now ruining every aspect of your life. Pretty girls don't do drugs.

Unfortunately, drugs aren't the only addictive thing known to wo(man). And whilst I wish I could stand here before you and pledge that I've never been an addict, I'd be a liar. There is something mouth-wateringly addictive about starving your body - your brain feels rewarded every time the numbers get lower, every time a hunger pang gets ignored and every time someone confirms the effectiveness of your self-sabotaging behaviour. Like drugs, you want to stop but only when you're so far gone that hope seems non-existent.

Dolls, no matter who, what or when... if you're breaking up with an a-grade asshole, you rip it off quickly like a bandaid and dispose of it in the trash where waste belongs. But when who and what is drugs and when is 'unavailable', the bandaid is usually adhesive and the trash disposal is in Kansas. The point is, drugs aren't just an a-grade asshole, they're a bitch to get rid of. You see Dolls, the moment I knew I was addicted to Anorexia was when I had a nasogastric feeding tube going into my stomach to keep me alive and my biggest dream and desire was to leave the hospital so I could get even worse than I already was. Actively choosing to not love somebody who you truly want to keep loving is tremendously difficult. Deciding that you want to be 'clean' from drugs or recover from an eating disorder is a battle that you cannot understand or empathise with completely unless you have had first-hand experience. My parents always tell me that the determination and willpower my brain has towards Anorexia is immense. They desperately wish I could transfer the same tenacity towards recovery and after many tears, fights and hospital admissions, I, too, wish I could be released from the grip that my addiction places upon me every waking hour of every day.

Sweet Shopaholics, the rock 'n roll world is out of control, untamed and turbulent. Although the involvement of drugs in rock 'n roll adds to its wildness, it also provides predictability. Despite the variety of drugs on the market, it's fairly expected as to what you're going to get within each category. Acid= trips, Cocaine=energy, Heroin=relaxation etc. The 'high' you get from any drug is predictable. With Anorexia, life isn't a box of chocolates...I know what I am going to get. And I like that. I like knowing I can count on the outcome. In times of uncertainty and unforeseeable circumstances, it is widely reported amongst other sufferers that their eating disorder flares up. Think global pandemic and worldwide lockdowns. Most anorexics are perfectionists. They love order, structure and organisation which is why taking a pill every day makes the world seem a little calmer, a little quieter and a little less scary to face. Anorexics are really just drug addicts who don't actually take drugs and who cry over sandwiches.

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ANOREXIA

My pretty, sweet, princess Shopaholics, I must make this confession...

There is nothing I wouldn't do to prevent another person from developing Anorexia. Anorexia has ruined my body, my soul and my brain in the most unimaginable and detrimental ways. There is nothing beautiful, exotic or remarkable about the illness and to those who leave room for speculation amongst this, I curse you. I pledge to you, Shopaholics, the truthfulness of my claim. I pledge that no matter how scandalous the scenario, no matter how dirty my hands have to get and no matter how humiliated I have to feel, I would never support or condone Anorexia on this Blog. Here, it is safe. But above all, here Anorexia is a villain. Controversy is a specialty of COS, especially when it comes to the truth. And the truth is, many icons within this outrageous era were supermodels and actresses who promoted and condoned eating disorders. These were people young women idolised. Dolls, although their words at the time may have been praised, they haven't aged well and many women across the globe have vocalised the detrimental effect their sayings have had in their life. Kate Moss & Gwenyth Paltrow are two names that must be stopped in their destructive tracks. Their talent and beauty are undeniable, yet their morale is certainly questionable. Kate Moss has since retracted her phrases and attempted to heal some wounds, yet Gwenyth continues her disordered projections with diet books amongst other things. Their right to free speech isn't of question. What is questionable is their desire to share their right to free speech with such a large, impressionable and innocent audience who already face immense pressure from the beauty standard, diet culture and the media. Dolls, it is my pleasure to bring these names out of the spotlight, raise awareness and ask Pourquoi the world has allowed these two women to be so widely praised despite their sins.

Shopaholics, similar to rock 'n roll, Anorexia is loud, she never sleeps and risk is her forte. Too many people only recognise Anorexia as a physical illness. They only recognise the warning signs when Anorexia has already contaminated the brain. With other mental illnesses such as depression or anxiety, it's nearly impossible to know that someone has it just by looking at them. When professionals can tell you have Anorexia just by looking at you, they will often diagnose the degree of your illness based on the toll it has already taken on your body. But that is a deeply flawed approach. Exhibit A: When I first was diagnosed with Anorexia, I was at a much higher weight but the severity of the voices in my head was much louder. I am in the best mindset I have ever been in terms of actively choosing recovery, yet because I am at a much lower weight, the professionals say my Anorexia is the worst it has ever been. Dolls, fuck anyone who tells you the degree of an eating disorder based on your physical condition. The best phrase that was ever said to me is that Anorexia is a mental illness with physical side effects. Many professionals don't treat the illness with this mindset which causes an understandable and common conundrum yet an incredibly painful one for sufferers who, as a result of such an approach, are left feeling invalidated and unheard.

The damage done to the body and brain is often reversible, however, when treating Anorexia, nobody accounts for the toll it takes on a person's soul. My phenomenally supportive parents have been devastated by the destruction of Anorexia. They have seen first-hand their vibrant daughter become tormented with the voices in her head. One day, my Father explained to me what watching the process was like and it is deeply moving, saddening and confronting. Picture a beautiful young girl standing in the middle of a lush, green field with rows of daisies and magnolias extending for miles and miles. She is so pure, so warm and so innocent like a newborn swan. A golden halo illuminates above her head as the sun shines upon her whilst she picks flowers and places them into her straw basket. Now picture dark cumulonimbus clouds consuming anything blue or peaceful in the sky as a big, black bear takes an extraordinarily large bite out of the young girl's perfect, naked body. It gnaws at her body when it pleases. It gnaws at her body when she feels hopeful the storm will finally pass. It gnaws at her body when she's on her knees begging for the rain to stop, crying at its water droplets, screaming at the thunder. It gnaws until it leaves nothing but the flowers and basket that were once hers. After every bite, the girl is more destroyed, her heart grows colder and her bones become weaker. The bear stalls and roams around and leaves the girl be in intervals. But inevitably the bear is there. The bear is waiting. The bear is Anorexia and it ever-so-slowly eats her sinless soul. It fills her body with blackness every time it bites a piece of her flesh. The love she has for herself becomes incinerated. The excitement and joy she once felt as she learnt something new doesn't exist any longer. Her anticipation to experience the world, fall in love, travel, eat her favourite food and be overwhelmed with happiness is swallowed into the bear's abyss with every mouthful it takes. Her soul has become nothing but an empty, barren landscape void of colour, life and sunlight.

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Shopaholics, as it turns out, sex, drugs & rock 'n roll simply wasn't for me. Maybe if I'd partied harder and maybe if I'd made more stupid drunken mistakes, my soul would've been more drawn to the dark side. But maybe, just maybe, what I believe in my heart to be true counts... counts for the girl who just died from starvation, counts for the boy who just missed out on his birthday cake and counts for the mother who just found out her baby girl can't have children. Maybe sex, drugs & rock 'n roll is as morbid and twisted as I've made it out to be. What do you think, Dolls? Am I a cynic or a saint?

Talk soon, Dolls.

Kisses x