Posted in Challenges, family, ramblings

Write Every Day: Define Family


And here I am again! Keeping going, despite intense feelings of apathy and self hatred. Sometimes I get confused between the two. Does anyone else get that, or is it just me?

Family? Who you want them to be. Obviously you can’t change your biological family, but you can choose who you call family. And it changes throughout your life I guess. When you’re young, your family is your nuclear family and really important; some people are closer to their extended family, or that could happen later in life. Maybe you get married and then have kids, and they are now your main family. You can have lots of families. Adoptive families. Friends that are so close they’re family. People who are family by blood that you’ve never met? Call them family if you like. It’s a choice. Everyone says ‘you can’t choose your family.’ You can’t technically change your family; you can change your attitude.

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Posted in Challenges, ramblings

Write Every Day: My Role in the Family



I’m only on day five of doing this, and I’m uninspired and bored. It’s a chore already. What’s wrong with me? I used to have pages and pages of stuff in diaries that I’d written. I wrote three – four – ten? – times a day. And it came naturally. Stuff just flowed. Now, though I’ve written a novel and it’s going off for the next stage in publishing on November 28th (eek!), I feel less able to write.

I think maybe I can’t write so much about myself. Because I’ve said it all before. I haven’t changed, really, since my ED became particularly severe. I’m stuck in time at age seventeen. And I did write every day for the first few years or so of being in hospital, but the entire thing was just focused on calories and millilitres of fluid and staff bending the rules for other people or being punished and blah blah blah. It was the same shit, different day, and I never even realised. Then, I just sort of gradually stopped writing. I was horrified – writing a diary was a big part of how I defined myself as a person. How could it just go? But it did.

And I dunno if I can make it come back.

Sometimes, I suppose we have to accept things about the past, about ourselves, and move on. Because things can’t stay static. The only thing constant is change.

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