A-Z Of Reasons To Recover: D Is For Dancing The Night (And Your Troubles) Away

Today’s blog post comes to you in the form of good ol’ procrastination for the author is most certainly avoiding her impending doom and would prefer to ignore the fact that she has an English Language exam tomorrow instead of facing the facts head on. I will protest that the anxiety was too much for me to bear and I simply had to step away from the study in order to cleanse my mind of any negativity and just chill for a bit. Of course, it is the truth.

Apt…but learn how to spell “pronounced”…

I can honestly say that I have never dreaded an exam quite so much as I am dreading this one tomorrow. But that’s no matter because do you know what? I have something to look forward to. I, granny-ish as I am, have made plans to celebrate the completion of said atrocity. I, Niamh Lundy, am going out. THE HERMIT IS LEAVING THE HOUSE.

Apologies for the meme invasion.

Granted, no alcohol will be consumed. Granted, I’ll probably get muscular pain and cramps 30 minutes into the evening. Granted, chances are I will be tucked up in bed before midnight, completely exhausted. But no feat is ever too small. The very fact that I am excited about heading out partying in celebration or commiseration of my exam only makes me more grateful that I have chosen this path to recovery, this path leading me in the right direction to achieving one of my goals of just having a normal student life and acting like your average young person. I received a taster of this lifestyle before (in a time and place which involved masking my age to sneak into nightclubs somewhat illegally…but we shall say no more about it) and I have missed it so. I finally feel that the wheels are in motion for its return. You know what they say: slow and steady always wins the race.

It is also only right that I take this moment to acknowledge my gratitude for best friends, whose patience is bewildering and humbling. I don’t know if I could be bothered with being as welcoming to someone who has spent the past six months or so locked in her own shell, refusing to even grace society with the simplest of outings. I merely had to mention a desire to get out and they were immediately supportive. I’m not entirely sure if they really do care about me or if they just love the drink (I jest). Either way, I am so unbelievably thankful for their constant encouragement and I am forever indebted to them.

I suppose one’s head better return to the books but it would be criminal of me to publish a post on this sad day without taking a moment to issue my condolences to the family and friends of one of the greatest icons of androgyny, eccentricity and fearlessness. King Bowie, despite all of my efforts, I have yet to fully emulate the gusto with which you lived your life and embraced your originality. I can only hope that one day I achieve your bravery. RIP angel.

I leave my parting words up to our dearly departed prince. I will not go in for deep, raw emotion…instead, I allow Bowie to lead himself and my blog post out in a manner which I think he would have approved of:

 

How appropriate.

-Niamhy xx

A-Z Of Reasons To Recover: A Is For Academic Study

First things first: we must wish my bloggy wog a belated happy birthday, WordPress having just notified me yesterday that I officially registered with them exactly one year ago. So happy first anniversary to the blog formerly known as “High Priestess Fashion”, now more appropriately called “High Priestess Resurrected” following its root-and-branch overhaul! Here’s to many more! Anyone for a slice of celebratory cake…?

Next thing on the agenda: the real business! Another thing which came to my attention yesterday was that I have now completed six full weeks of recovery meal plans (snaps for me). This realisation in conjunction with the fact that I recently began my CBT-E treatment encouraged me to finally pursue a blog post series which I have been mulling over for a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long time. The name of this series?

A-Z OF REASONS TO RECOVERRRRRRRRRRR! *to be said in the style of that movie trailer voiceover guy*

So basically this series will do exactly what it says on the tin; I will explore all my own personal reasons to recover, following the order of (yep, you guessed it) the alphabet. Pretty self-explanatory. Now, without further ado, in the immortal words of Fraulein Maria, let’s start from the very beginning because it’s a very good place to start…

A is for ACADEMIC STUDY!

Confession: I am a massive nerd. A geek. A dweeb. A bookworm. All of the above. It simply cannot be denied, and I will scream the fact loud and proud from every rooftop, every tree, every mountain; ladies and gentlemen, I LOVE LEARNING!

Unfortunately, extreme perfectionism and obsessive compulsive disorder are co-morbid with anorexia nervosa. And what does this mean, you may ask? Why is this statement relevant? Well, you know when your average teenager complains that “studying kills them”? Yeah…well…studying for A-Levels almost did kill me.

There was no way I could fail. I simply could not live with myself if I did not achieve absolute perfection. So I made sure I did. Every waking second for me was spent in intense study, not one moment could be wasted. Thus, for me, eating became a waste of time, a form of procrastination. And we couldn’t possibly have that, could we, Niamh? Certainly not. It actually got to the stage where I was going into exams having consumed a “lunch” of eight green grapes because the thought of not working up until the very minute I entered that exam hall filled me with fear. I don’t think I can adequately put into words what a dreadful existence this was.

Now, here’s the plot twist.

I wouldn’t change my behaviour in those final months of grammar school for the world.

Gasp.

Shock.

Horror.

There are two main reasons for this revelation:

NUMBER ONE!

No other person on this earth will ever be able to experience what I felt the moment I opened my results to discover that I had achieved 3A*s and 1 A in my four A-Levels. I don’t think any other emotion could contend with that great wave of satisfaction; that adrenaline burst of sheer accomplishment followed by the sudden realization that all the hard work had paid off and you were now going to be studying your passion in the university of your dreams. See that previously-posted photo of the Hogwarts-esque building? Yeah, that’s Queen’s University Belfast and I study English there. Add to that the fact that my grades were enough to garner me one of the five Queen’s Scholars of 2015, meaning that I am now an ambassador for the university and I have my fees paid for by way of a full scholarship. Therefore, it would be impossible for me to regret my extreme behaviour during exam season; had I not been the me I was then, I may not have achieved this great feat.

On the other hand…

NUMBER 2!

A-Level exam season 2015 gave me the kick in the ass I needed to realise that I had a serious problem and that if I didn’t seek help ASAP…well, the consequences simply do not bear thinking about. I was a mess. I still am a mess. But at least now I’m the pilot revving up the engine of my aeroplane, beginning to edge towards the runway. Back in June, I was still a passenger, sitting on my hand luggage in the departures lounge, passively waiting on a delayed flight. I didn’t even know where my desired destination was. The world was passing me by. Well, not any more. And I have the terrible, terrible A-Level exam season 2015 to thank for this epiphany. Furthermore, six weeks under a recovery meal plan may not lead to any sort of weight gain (if I’m being honest, my weight has actually decreased, but we shall dwell no more on that this evening) but it does allow for greater coherency of thought. Therefore, I now realise it would be next to impossible for me to even continue any sort of academic study at the severely low weight I am currently at. Calories are not monsters. Calories are merely units of energy. And energy is what I need if I ever want my devotion to literature to flourish and grow. Recovery is my only option.

I shall leave you with a piece of literature which has recently given me much consolation. I don’t want to be one of T.S. Eliot’s Hollow Men, shape without form, shade without colour, paralysed force, gesture without motion. I must choose to instead embrace my status as a Velveteen Rabbit…

-Niamhy xx