Raw. Lydia Davies

      The thing is, Lydia, that you can choose to continue along this path or to turn things around and to get better. I know it must seem a very hard step to take – to firstly admit that you have a problem and then to say that you want to get better (to someone, anyone, a doctor?). There is lots of help out there but you need to want it. You are a strong person and I hope and pray that you will have the courage to seek this help ASAP and to take control in turning your life around for the better. It won’t be easy (the hardest thing will be the first step) but you will have us all and your friends to support you. Everybody wants you to get better. The sooner proper professional treatment begins, the better the outcome.

      Please, please, please, I beg you (we all do), please want to get better.

      I will always love you,

      Mum xoxoxox

      I discovered that a housemate across the hall from me had electronic scales in her bedroom. I had never owned scales – my mother believed it could be unhealthy (as it is just a number, which is irrelevant). This machine fascinated me. When everyone was out of the house I found myself sneaking into her room more and more frequently to step on this incredible glass square. It started out as once a week, or every few days, out of curiosity. This quickly turned into me darting in and out just to see what number it would read at every opportunity I got. I was addicted to seeing the numbers drop. If they had not dropped or had gone up by even a quarter of a pound I would burst into tears, try to be sick or do some star jumps, and then consult the scales again literally half an hour later, praying that they would have gone down. I remember getting below the 7-stone mark and feeling absolutely triumphant. I had never in my life felt more proud of myself than I did then. The last time I had weighed myself properly was years before, and I had been 9 stone plus. I was absolutely buzzing, and determined to get my weight down further and further.

       6 November 2011

       Email from a friend

      Lydia you look hungry! You would look so much nicer with a bitta weight on you x x

      My identity became my eating disorder, and my eating disorder was my identity. I looked in the mirror and could not believe how thin I had got. I gazed at my perfect legs, ran my blue fingers over my protruding ribcage like a piano. My face was sunken, my cheekbones like daggers. The largest part of my body was my haunted eyes, which stared back at me in the mirror in a state of pure amazement and triumph at what I had achieved. I bought a pair of size-four jeans which dangled around my stick-like legs, and hung so loose around my waist and bottom that I had to wear three pairs of tights and a pair of leggings under them just to keep them on. My hip bones poked out through my clothes, my stomach was concave and my elbows sharp as knives. My breasts were completely non-existent, and even a child’s bra sat inches away from my chest. Even my knickers didn’t fit, as I no longer had a bottom. They hung limply off me and resembled a loose nappy. Yes, to you this may all sound extremely unattractive, but I felt absolutely stunning. I did not look real, I looked like some strange mystical creature, and that is what I felt like, on a trip away with the fairies, deep in a world of fantasy. In contrast, though, I felt fearful. Fearful of death at times, but then when I was feeling euphoric I could not care less. Such a mix of these powerfully contrasting feelings is almost impossible to describe unless you have been through this yourself. Even then, though, I cannot say that other people felt the same. The beautifully haunted world that I was living in was miles away from anyone else and everything else.

       18 November 2011

       From my GP in Newcastle

      I have been seeing Lydia at the Eating Disorder Unit since the beginning of October. For some time Lydia has struggled with anxiety and depression and has been restricting her diet in order to lose weight. In the last four weeks she has been seen and assessed by our Regional Eating Disorder Unit and has been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Lydia is undertaking a community based treatment programme and her mum has moved up to Newcastle to support her with this. The Eating Disorder Consultant is doing this as a trial over the next couple of weeks but it may come to a point where Lydia has to be admitted to an inpatient bed in the Eating Disorder Unit in Newcastle. Lydia is currently attending the Eating Disorder Unit twice a week to have bloods, heart tracing and weight assessments. She is following a strict diet treatment plan.

      Yours sincerely,

      Dr * *******

      Both my parents came to my consultation with the head psychiatrist at the Eating Disorder Unit. She was a large, fearsome-looking woman whom I immediately decided I hated. She led me through the inpatient unit to assess me. On the way through, we passed several demented-looking skeletons. I gasped at how thin and emaciated they looked (unaware that to others I looked much the same). As sick and twisted as it sounds, I felt jealous of them. I also felt embarrassed to be there. They must all be wondering who this fat girl is and why she is here – she doesn’t have anorexia! Funnily enough, we were all probably thinking the same thing about each other, eyes darting, analysing and comparing our bodies to each other’s in a swift glance. Sizing up the ‘competition’.

       4 December 2011

       My blog post

      Influence and Inspiration

      I have decided to make this blog more of a personal diary of my thoughts, and use it for myself to look back on, though if you happen to read it I hope that you gain some inspiration and enjoyment …

      My family. They are absolutely amazing and I am so grateful.

      My boyfriend. Equally amazing.

      My friends. And again …

      Listening to wise people.

      One night we went to a bar to sell our goods. I put on my sparkly high heels, baggy leggings and a jumper. I felt like I finally looked pretty amazing. My legs were like two pins (they were more like needles). I got drunk and had a lovely evening. I had a conversation with one of my lecturers who attended that night and it inspired me so much. She told me it was great that I had come out but I needed to sort myself out. She said she had wanted to bring me vitamin drinks into university on several occasions, because if I wasn’t going to eat I could at least drink. We talked about ways in which to inspire myself through glamour and fashion. She told me to watch old movies and escape through reading and ideas. It was an amazing conversation and it lit a lightbulb in my head. I confided in her and explained how I didn’t know who I was any more. Our conversation hit the right nerve and I will remember it forever.

       4 December 2011

       My blog post

      Something I wrote in my phone, probably at 5.40 a.m., one time:

      The worst thing is having to think about it and talk about it all the time. Having fun, being creative, listening to inspiring people and watching inspiring films can take me away. Drawing, ink, outfits, glamour, ideas, aspirations are a saviour. Confidence, influence and inspiration are key words. Nothing is safe but everything is amazing. Creativity and drive will save me. Excitement and networking and listening to and hearing other people.

      The only way in which I was able to warm up my permanently icy body was by sitting in a bath full of boiling water. I would run it as deep as I could before the water started to get cold. Actually, getting in was horrendous, as it meant taking off all of my clothes and being unbearably cold for some long seconds. I would lower