Archive for the 'English' Category

Adventures so far.

I’m gonna do this post in English as it seems fair. I believe thinking you’ll find the time to blog when you’re on vacation is slightly ambitious -unless you blog for money and consider this your job, which I don’t. My internet has been quite shit as well, so it’s not like I’ve been able to either.

Today, it’s been three weeks since I got on my first flight from Bergen. 28 hours later I got out of Tullamarine airport in Melbourne. I made it. I made it to Oslo, I made it from Oslo to Dubai, I made it through Terminal 3 in Dubai – which was a fucking nightmare by the way, and then I made it through a thirteen hour long flight to Melbourne. Not only that; I made it through waiting in line for passport check for a whooping two hours after landing. As many as four flights from Dubai landed when mine did, I believe my flight was the first, so I got lucky. The plane I was on was big enough to hold over 800 passengers. If four planes around the same size landed around the same time; I’ll leave it to you to imagine how crowded it was, how sticky, yucky, sweaty everyone was, not to mention the heat. Actually, the line for passports wasn’t two hours long, but there was another line for baggage and declaration. I think Nick spent close to three hours waiting for me to get through all the formalities.

We went to Nick’s parents apartment in the middle of Melbourne and stayed here for a few days. I’m not sure I’m able to describe how it feels to wake up in a bed where everything seems surreal, unreal, sort of distorted but at the same time “just right”? Like “this is where I’m supposed to be, right this moment”.
I didn’t really struggle with jet lag but I was still battling a cold I’d had for a whooping eight weeks! Thankfully, this went away after only a few days in a warmer climate.

I think it was my first day in Melbourne when me and Nick decided to be spontaneous and just do something a little crazy? Well, this probably doesn’t sound too crazy to you, but in MY books this was madness. We booked tickets for Sydney only five days later.

So, after staying in his parents apartment for a few days, we moved into a house Nick now rents with a couple friends. A couple days after that we had dinner with Nick’s parents, his sister and her boyfriend plus one of Nick’s oldest friends and her husband – Nick. And yes, it seems to me that everyone is named Nick. It was a really nice evening. The next morning we got up early and Nick’s mother drove us to the airport and we went to Sydney for five days. We were incredibly lucky with our hotel? It was more like an apartment with a kitchen plus combined living room with a TV, big bedroom with another TV and a separate bathroom. It was even ridiculously cheap!

So we did the tourist things! We went to see the Opera house! We went to see the Museum of Contemporary arts! We wandered around Sydney just to see and experience things? I even went out a couple of times on my own, having takeaway coffee in parks all alone? Do you have any idea of how crazy this is? A year ago I was “daydreaming my life away” (I can explain this better later), but basically it means that I spent several hours on the couch with my eyes closed every single day as I made up stories about lives I’d never have or never live inside my head, until it felt so real I could feel tears trickling down my cheeks because it was only a fantasy and “not for me”

And then I made it happen. Not inside my head, but actually happen.

We went on a tour of the Opera House and we went on a ferry from Circular Quay to Manly Beach – where I got a ridiculous sunburn.

We got back to Melbourne last saturday, spent sunday watching movies or something and then last monday, we got into the car and drove to a place along the Great Ocean Road called Lorne. This was my birthday present from last year, staying in a hotel for a few days. Spent a few hours at a lovely beach, continued driving down The Great Ocean Road, saw “The twelve apostles” and spent the next day on the beach as well, before returning to Melbourne once again.

The past few days haven’t been super eventful, but we all need a few days to chill, right? Watched a ton of movies.

We’ve also been on lots of walks, to the gym, got drunk with a friend of Nick a couple of days ago, had breakfast at cafés and I’ve done things on my own. Like, I’ve been to the mall myself, I go to the supermarket when needed, I’ve been to the library hoping to be able to study, however I wasn’t. The heat on my way there made me really uncomfortable and the internet was slow, so I found myself unable to concentrate and get work done.

I like Australia. I love the temperatures, the sun and there’s a few things that are a million times better than Norway. Top two things; at the supermarket they actually pack whatever you’re buying as they scan your groceries/items. You don’t have to do this yourself and it saves you a lot of time and actually makes it a lot more efficient as you can walk straight out as soon as you’ve payed.

Another thing is public toilets/restrooms. They are free, wherever, whenever and they’re clean. Look at that, a country that’s realized that going to the bathroom is a need as we all have bodily functions and that you shouldn’t have to pay for it. Sorry, weird topic. I’ll stop myself, but you catch my drift, right?

I’ve seen a lot of interesting things we don’t have in Norway, like a drive-through bottle-o? (Vinmonopol). Yes you read that correctly, drive through. We have one right around the corner. And sunday’s are like saturdays in Norway, shops and things are still open but the opening hours are shorter than regular weekdays.

I find the traffic really confusing though, as you drive on the opposite side of the road from back in Norway. And there’s a hell of a lot of U-turns.

Other stuff we’ve done; Moonlight cinema! Basically watching a movie outdoors in Melbourne Botanic Gardens as the sun sets, the stars come up and the bats start soaring above your heads. Never seen bats in real life before. Even saw a shooting star and a satellite plus the city lights from enormous buildings in the distance. Everything feels so huge compared to things back home.

I feel like I’m forgetting things, but you get the idea, right? I’m having so much fun and trying to squeeze in as many adventures as possible. A couple of days ago, me and Nick made a to-do list for my remaining days in Melbourne. Today is Tuesday and I’ll be going home in one week. I’ve got really conflicted feelings about this. I’m not going to go into it right now as it’s most likely just going to upset me, which is a bit unnecessary. I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it anyway.

If I made it here, I’m sure I’ll make it home as well – but it’s going to be a lot harder as I seriously despise goodbyes. Never been good at it, especially if you don’t really know what happens next. However, I’m really doing my best not to think about it as I’m a really talented over-thinker who needs to retire as it’s not doing me any good.

Anyway. I might be able to squeeze in a few more blog posts as I now have a stabile internet connection as long as I’m home (Nick’s house). No promises though! You can still follow me on instagram as well, for more frequent updates.


Fully Recovered from Bulimia Nervosa.

Even writing the title of this post feels surreal. It’s like I don’t even know what to say, like I don’t know how it happened, like I’m not sure how I managed to finally pull my head out of the toilet and start seeing food for what it really is: FUEL, ENERGY.

I still have atypical anorexia, my relationship with food is not normal or healthy, but everything bulimic is gone and that is… a huge achievement. One I never thought I’d accomplish. It’s been 11.5 years since the first time I made myself sick. I was eleven years old, almost twelve. Basically just a kid who had no idea of what she was doing or how such a seemingly simple thing would impact the rest of her life. My life.

This is my story.

Bulimia fucking ruined me. It ruined everything I was, it took away everything I had, it broke up my relationship with my mother, my boyfriend, I flushed my economy down the drain, my studies, my health, my friendships, my dreams, my hopes, bulimia turned me into a monster. An emotional bitch who’d erupt with rage and anger if I didn’t get my highs. My highs being; my food, my vomit. If I didn’t get that, I was unable to function. Food was my drug. Food was everything I needed and I abused it. Bulimia changed who I used to be into something I no longer am. I’m not who I used to be before bulimia and I’m not who I used to be when I was bulimic.

My eating disorder started with purging, but it was always gross and hard to do it. Starving myself always seemed easier so that’s what I did most from 2002-2008. I did have a few quite bulimic months in 2007 and I thought it was bad at the time, but I had no idea of how bad it would eventually get a few years later. A friend taught me “the magic” of vomiting “handsfree”. That is; bending over the toilet and vomiting without using your hands, a toothbrush or anything else to provoke the gag reflex.

I remember the day I went to the supermarket in 2008 and my only intention was to buy binge food, my only intention was to overeat and vomit. The day my bulimia went from being something impulsive to something I wanted, something I thought I needed. Something that made me feel good, something that made me feel better, at least for a little while. March 29th.

Through my early years of anorexia my weight remained more or less the same. My eating disorder wasn’t obvious because I never lost all those pounds, I was just the girl who “didn’t eat a lot”. A “picky eater”. When I was hospitalized for a couple of months in 2007 after a suicide attempt, they didn’t think my eating disorder was as severe as I described because my weight didn’t match my story, but they realized they were wrong after observing my behavior for a couple of days.

In 2008 when I started throwing up the way I did, my weight “finally” dropped. Rapidly. My weight kept dropping until I was hospitalized at the same unit for adolescents where they specialized at treating eating disorders. I was tired. I wanted to get better. I wanted to quit, honestly. I gained the pounds I’d lost before I was hospitalized but I turned eighteen while I was there and when I came to the toughest part of recovery; accepting my weight restored body, I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t stand it and I became severely depressed again. Suicidal. I wanted to discharge myself, but after overdosing while I was on leave, they sent me to a general ward for adults where all they did was make sure I didn’t die.

Within two intense weeks, I dropped weight until I was four pounds over my at the time lowest weight ever before I was medicated for other issues (they suspected I might be developing schizophrenia, they were wrong) and the medication made me gain back the pounds I lost until I was back at my “normal” weight. During this period my self harm was severe and as soon as I decided to fight self harm, I turned to bulimia to cope with my emotions and my weight started dropping once again.

I was referred to another unit for adults with eating disorder but they didn’t want to treat me because they meant my self harm was too much for them to handle – even though I was working very hard to stop.

This is when I met a girl whom I am no longer friends with – who also had bulimia. We’d binge and purge together, it was our secret. We became inseparable, us against the world. Someone to share it with. Partners in crime. Someone who understood. Someone to share the guilt and shame with. We tried quitting together and we failed together, again and again.

Bulimia is an addiction. We got “high” together. I’m not going to lie, it was fun. Enjoyable, thrilling, exhilarating – even if it hurt. Even if it was wrong, even if it was self destructive.

My weight kept dropping and I got to the point where I had a new lowest weight almost everyday. I was thinner than I’d ever been before, wasting away, day by day. I couldn’t stop weighing myself and I couldn’t stop eating. I stole food from my family and the unit where I was inpatient. I couldn’t keep food in my apartment without bingeing and purging, nothing. If my fridge wasn’t completely empty, my compulsion drove me to empty it again and again – no matter how many hours I’d eat in a row. I could pull all-nighters. I could go on for more than twelve hours, I’d throw up until I passed out from exhaustion, I’d throw up until my heart raced and my hands shook. I’d throw up until the world was spinning, I’d throw up until there was blood.

Eventually it scared me, eventually I realized it couldn’t go on, eventually I realized that I was in fact; dying. I’d lie awake in bed at night with the same thought every night; “will I wake up tomorrow? Oh what a relief it would be if this was it”, but it never was. I’d count the hours without purging, I made schedules, I scribbled down hour after hour but yet I wasn’t able to go a day without bingeing and purging. My body was so used to being treated the way I abused it – I got physically sick if I didn’t binge and purge. It was agonizing. Unbearable. Dark. Lonely. Painful. It was hopeless.

And then, in March 2010 I was admitted and got a feeding tube. I gained about ten pounds within a week because I was so dehydrated and it terrified me, but yet I wanted to get better. The unit for adults with eating disorders was ready to take me on as a patient, but I refused – firmly believing I could go home and recover on my own terms. Unfortunately, I’d caused my body a lot of damage and I had my first epileptic seizure the day I pulled the feeding tube out. A week later I was diagnosed with gastric hemorrhage and about a month after that, I was diagnosed with unspecified epilepsy.

Still, I was determined to beat this shit. After staring death in the eye, I wanted to live more than ever. It terrified me that I, at the age of only nineteen, was at risk of dying without even having lived!

After gaining 42lbs within three months, I was heavier than ever with a healthy BMI of almost 21. I couldn’t stand it and I thought I’d never stop gaining weight. I gave up and went back to bingeing and purging. I went back to school for the first time in years and for a while I did good. I still had my best friend, the bulimic friend. We still binged and purged together, like we had. I was satisfied. I got good grades and I was losing weight. I was constantly broke but that was sort of ok. I could accept that.

In January I was betrayed by the only family member I felt close with at the time and trusted. My world was crumbling and it became hard to go to school. Bingeing and purging was my escape and it was so much easier to disappear into a world of my own. My bulimic friend had got a boyfriend now and she went inpatient to get better. I was alone. Completely alone. I lived on my own and the only thing I did was binge and purge. That’s what I had left. The only constant factor in my life. The only thing that remained by my side through everything else, the only thing I could control – even though that was just something I told myself to protect my sanity, or what little I had left of it.

In april 2011 I had another public epileptic seizure and it’s one of the most horrifying experiences I’ve ever had. Waking up in the midst of a chaotic situation I’d created without intending to do so, with people staring and surrounded by paramedics – my life hasn’t been the same ever since. As a direct consequence of this incident – I developed agoraphobia and became scared of going out in public, even if I was with someone I trusted. My neurologist believes my seizures were mainly triggered by the extreme drops in blood sugar after purging and I became scared of throwing up because I was scared of having public seizures.

This is where my real battle with bulimia began. April 2011. In a way it was my point of no return. Realizing my body could no longer handle it, for real. I was failing the last term in school because I was unable to show up because of agoraphobia. I BEGGED for help but I didn’t get any. Or I did, for a few weeks, until a psychologist whom I absolutely despise – sat me down and told me it wasn’t good for me to be inpatient. I was supposed to “live” on the outside of a psychiatric hospital and even if I told her I didn’t want to be inpatient, even though I explained in detail how bad my bulimia was, how much I wanted to relapse and start harming myself again – she stood her ground and I discharged myself the same day because everything was lost. I had nothing left when I declined another offer to go inpatient at a residential unit that treats adults with eating disorders. I believed I was too heavy to deserve treatment.

I had agoraphobia and bulimia – but this is where my bulimic symptoms changed. If I purged everything I ate, I would have epileptic seizures and it would make agoraphobia worse, so I kept some food down. It prevented me from losing weight so my weight remained the same.

But I tried to quit purging. I kept trying and I also kept failing. Not as often as before, I was able to go a few days without doing it, but every time I felt low – I needed it. Eventually I managed to go a week, two, a month.

2012 became the worst year of my life. I was miserable. Completely isolated because of agoraphobia and I wasn’t even as thin as I preferred to be, and even worse – I was unable to lose weight. I spent about 97 percent of the year alone. I rarely had good days where I was able to go out with friends. I spent about 85 percent of that year on my own. Alone. The best things that happened that year was a weekend where I felt free and went on adventures with a friend, and when I got my second dog – Nick.

I did accomplish almost four months without bingeing and purging before I had a two month long relapse at the beginning of 2013. In 2013 I finally got the help I needed and learned what I needed to do to beat agoraphobia. I was finally making progress. And I moved. I left the city where I’d lived for about eleven years and I moved somewhere else, to another part of the country, far away from everything I knew, everything that was familiar.

But in May, bulimia got worse. I know my family knew even if I tried to hide it. In july I spent a month on my own and agoraphobia got worse because I wasn’t in treatment for a few months because I was on a waiting list.

By now I’d developed food intolerances. My body cannot break down milk proteins or gluten and if I eat it – it enters my blood stream as opioids, related to opium, which basically means that I get high. Dizzy – and I hate it. It triggers agoraphobia and in order to avoid milk proteins and gluten, 95 percent of what I considered “safe food” was no longer an option and I had to challenge myself to eating scary and unfamiliar food.

In a way this was a turning point. Even if it was beyond extremely hard and I felt bitter and angry because of the damage I had done. Even if I didn’t purge as much, I still restrict my intake and I haven’t gained weight. It made it feel safer and eventually I realized I could eat whatever I wanted as long as I still restricted – without gaining weight.

But there was one problem. All my favorite binge food for when I gave in to bulimia – contained lots and lots of milk proteins and gluten. Yogurts, ice cream, buns, pizza, crisps, cheese, chocolate, a lot of candy and the list goes on – contains gluten even if it doesn’t contain milk. And it made me sick. Not just dizzy, it fucked up my digestion and it made my agoraphobia worse as well as making me feel physically ill and extremely tired. After a binge/purge session I’d feel heavy and drowsy for four days before I started feeling better. I hated it. I hated the fact that I did it but still I wanted to hurt myself even if I didn’t really want to – so I’d give in because I was confused and it was easier to give in than to fight it,

The last time I binged and purged was December 29th 2013. Now it’s just atypical anorexia but I’m doing better than I have been for years. I eat what I want as long as I under eat in total. I know it’s not healthy, but it’s safe and familiar and it gives me a sense of control I still feel like I need.

But I eat what I want. I eat chocolate for breakfast everyday! Who would have thought?! Breakfast is my favorite meal and I eat until I’m full. I eat porridge cooked 50/50 with milk and soy milk, artificial sweetener, a dash of salt and usually I add frozen blueberries, last but not least I add a teaspoon of peanut butter and four small pieces of chocolate. It’s the perfect combination of sweet, sour and salt. Sometimes I even feel uncomfortably full even if I eat basically the same everyday – yet I force myself to finish my breakfast even if it takes up to an hour because if I don’t, I get cranky and it messes up that feeling of control for the rest of the day.

And I eat dinner with my family several times per week and I do my best to make those portions look normal – for the sake of my six year old brother who is not aware of the fact that I even have an eating disorder at all. I eat dinner for my dad and my stepmother because I keep my disordered thoughts to myself. Basically I restrict when I’m on my own or skip meals because I forget to eat. I eat before I go out because it eases my anxiety to know my blood sugar isn’t low and I eat if I feel physically ill, such as feeling dizzy or shaky.

I know it’s not healthy and I fully acknowledge the fact that I still have an eating disorder.

So it hit me, two days ago; when do you know you’ve recovered? I thought about it while eating cereal for dinner, I went through my previous behavior which I’ve just described in detail if you’re still reading, and I compared it to my current “symptoms” – which basically no longer exist. I’m fully capable of having all sorts of food available, I never binge, when I get upset I no longer even consider bingeing and purging to feel better and I don’t miss it. Or I do, sometimes – but it’s the same with self harm but my thoughts alone cannot hurt me as long as I don’t satisfy my cravings for self destruction. I don’t have fear foods. I have some food I’d rather not eat – but I CAN eat it if I don’t have another option and if my blood sugar is low. I don’t obsessively count calories or weigh my food – except the amount of oatmeal I use when I make breakfast, but I can excuse that because I’m actually following a recipe of my own.

Still, when can you call yourself recovered? How do you know? Because I felt recovered two days ago but I didn’t feel confident enough to believe in that. I texted my doctor from 2010 to 2013 and asked her if I could ask her a question. We still talk from time to time, she knows me through and through and she’s been there for me. She visited me in the hospital when I had the feeding tube even if she didn’t need to. She was perfect person to ask because she knows what my bulimia looked like.

I described my feelings about food now and my behavior and she texted me back saying she was almost in tears and “of course you’ve recovered from bulimia” and more but I’m not going to quote all of it.

I am there. After three years of intense fighting, I finally made it through. I never believed it to be possible, yet here I am. As I’ve mentioned, bulimia is an addiction just like drug abuse or alcoholism and I will have to be cautious for the rest of my life to not relapse. In a way I will always be “a bulimic” just like an alcoholic will always be an alcoholic even when s/he’s sober.

I have now recovered from borderline personality disorder, self harm and bulimia nervosa. (Atypical) Anorexia and agoraphobia still remains. Currently working on beating agoraphobia and I will get there. I want life to be enjoyable again and hopefully – it will be.

23rd Birthday!

Yesterday (October 29th) was my 23rd birthday.

As some of you know, my feelings about my birthday has been mixed for a few years. My 20th, 22nd and 23rd birthday has been really good, meaning I had a really great day yesterday. I really enjoyed it (minus a therapy session, bad timing but I decided to not dwell on it because it could ruin things).

My family woke me up at 9am with champagne, tea and fruit salad, which we ate while drinking champagne. They also brought me a bunch of presents which I opened in bed.

I’ve never been served breakfast in bed ever and I had no idea this was going to happen, so I was really surprised and had such a nice morning! I was really happy about that. From my dad I got five driving lessons and a notebook (I love notebooks).

My stepmother gave me all the books published in the “Song of Ice and Fire” series, the TV-series “Game of Thrones” is based on these books and I recently finished GoT and wanted to read the books, so I was really happy with that. I feel really excited about reading them – which is good because I struggle with reading due to bad concentration. I also got a few smaller things and there’s a few presents that haven’t arrived yet.

I did nothing in particular for a few hours before I got dressed and went to see my therapist.

And my hair has gotten ridiculously long! Needs a trim though, will probably do that on friday. (Hand is on my hip)

And my nails matched my dress, which I don’t have any good pictures of, except from the picture above. This design in called Saran Wrap and I actually made a tutorial on how to make it back in January, post can be found [HERE]. I used four colors though, not just two as the example in my tutorial. Black, white, grey & silver + topcoat & basecoat.

After my session I spent some time online, slept for an hour and went out for dinner with my family. I didn’t really want to go to therapy or out for dinner because I was feeling slightly anxious all day, but I’m really glad I did because the day turned out so good in the end. I’m glad I managed to get through all my challenges, I’m glad I didn’t let agoraphobia hold me back from having a great day.

(I’m sorry all the pictures are enormous, but they’re from my phone and it would look weird if I cropped them)

I got so many nice messages from readers/followers and it contributed to making my day even better. I seriously feel really emotional about it because I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. I hope I’ll be able to respond to all of them, if not – thank you so, so much. ♡♡♡

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Important post about blogging.

Yes, this is going to be another post about blogging, but it’ll also be the last (at least for a while).

Those of you who’ve followed me for a couple of years (thank you so much for still caring), I know that I was a “better” blogger before. I posted at least once a day and I wrote from the heart. I still write from the heart, but it’s slightly different now.

The main reason for my lack of posts is pressure. Too much pressure. For a while I wrote lots of posts I ended up saving as drafts, after a while I jus’t couldn’t be bothered anymore.

I still share events and glimpses of what goes on in my life, but mainly I share what I see as progress. In a way, that’s cheating. It says something about what I’ve achieved and that I’m moving in the right direction, but there are so many ups and downs, stumbling, falling, doubts, insecurities and worries on the road from somewhere to something better.

I love writing. It helps me in so many ways and if I didn’t express myself through written words, I’m not sure I’d be here, alive, today.

Writing is reflecting and while doing so, I open my mind and it gives me a whole other perspective. It makes me see things more clearly and understand things better, it makes me understand myself. While I write I’m able to organize the thoughts inside my head, it’s peaceful, soothing, therapeutical and it makes me stronger when I’m able to process what’s going on. It gives me more weapons to deal with the demons inside my head.

But then there’s doubts. I think too much and too often my thoughts get the best of me. It’s a big deal for me, to be able to be honest and open about such personal things.

I have an eating disorder. I have agoraphobia. Together they’ve reduced my quality of life to such an extent that I’ve caught myself wondering what the point of all this suffering is, more than once.

I don’t blog about shopping, glitter, glam, outfits or make up. What I write is deeply personal and sometimes it scares me. Or to be precise; what I think other people think of me for being the way I am – scares me. 

Do you see how ridiculous that is? Because I do. That exact sentence is what’s holding me back from sharing what happens between A and B rather than updating every once in a while when I feel like I’ve actually made progress when it comes to getting better.

I’m sure everyone have worried about what other people think of them at some point, some of you might do it all the time, like I do when it comes to my blog.

Writing this is actually a huge relief because it puts things in perspective for me, it allows me to see how ridiculous it is to be held back from doing something I love (writing) based on what I think others think of me. That’s completely out of my control and I have to stop over thinking when it comes to this in order to get over it. If you’re wondering why I don’t just pick up a pen and write things in a notebook instead, I’ve previously stated that I find it triggering and self destructive. When I write something someone will read, I put more effort in to it and I choose my words more carefully – exactly because I do not want to trigger others or myself. Another point is that I want to explain what makes me think/feel the way I do as accurately as possible because I don’t want those of you who read my words to misunderstand me.

I am who I am. I am exactly the person I’m supposed to be.

My life is what it is. It’s far from as bearable I wish it was and so far I haven’t achieved any of the “normal” things I’d like to accomplish before I die, but I’ve achieved so many other things in my life, things I truly hope no one else would ever have to go through. It’s important for me to remember where I’ve been and what I’ve survived.

For starters – I’m alive. A fact many people seem to take for granted when it comes to themselves. I fought a great war before I got to the point that I realized that I do want to live and I believe life has to be more than what I’ve experienced so far.

I have recovered from self harm. Self harm is a deadly addiction that almost cost me my life more than once. I never thought I’d make it, but I have.

I no longer fit the criteria for borderline personality disorder. This means I’ve had to work incredibly hard when it comes to changing bad habits, breaking destructive thought patterns, learning new coping strategies, but above all – learning to use this knowledge and my new tools and weapons in order to change my life. This might be hard to understand for those of you who’ve never struggled before, but I know a lot of you who read this will be able to imagine how much it takes to make it to the other side. It IS possible to recover from BPD, even though a lot of people claim it isn’t. They say “people don’t change”, but they’re wrong. Anyone can change.

These are huge, important things that had to be done and dealt with after deciding that I want to live. I’m still far from where I want to be. I still struggle with atypical anorexia (with bulimic tendencies) and agoraphobia. I’ve made several steps in the right direction when it comes to recovering from agoraphobia, but I’m still not as free as I will be, eventually.

I’d still very much like to document my journey through words and images (as my sidebar says) and continue sharing it with those of you who read this blog. The point of this post is to remind myself to not give a fuck about what other people might think of me.

I have come very, very far compared to how my life was back in 2009 when I was at my worst.

I have changed the person I used to be, to who I am today – a better version of myself.

What am I fighting for? Improving my quality of life.
Who am I fighting for? Myself.
Who am I writing for? Myself.

This is my journey and I’d still very much like to share that with you.

Now I’m done blogging about blogging, from now on I’d like to focus on what’s important; my journey from here to something better.

Fresh start.

After meaning to do so for longer than I can remember, I finally sat down and changed my blog’s design.

It’s the old template (as usual for the past almost four years) but I’ve changed my color palette and made the corners rounder. In my opinion it makes everything look a bit more neat and smooth.

When it comes to my header, I was faced with a challenge. At the moment I haven’t got any pictures that would look good as a header image, and keeping my old one was definitely not an option. For starters, it’s picture from 2011 and I’ve looked at it way too many times. I’m not sure I’m happy with the new one either so I might change that sometime in the future.

Opinions on this change?

Old vs. New

A Box of Good Intentions, DIY.

For a while I’ve been wanting to write down tips and useful ideas on how to beat bulimia, how to break the cycle of bingeing and purging. Even though I’m not quite there yet myself, I do have a few useful tips and strategies I want to share. Hopefully this will turn into a series of posts and this one will be the first. 

A Box of Good Intentions is a very simple idea on how to distract yourself when you feel close to relapsing. Instead of giving in to temptation you could try this. A box of good intentions is a box filled with little notes on ideas of how you can distract yourself. This idea also works if you’re struggling with self harm or any other self destructive behaviors! 

This is a step by step guide on how to make your own. 

You’ll need:

  • A box. Whichever box you have works fine.
  • Scissors
  • Paper
  • Pen/s

Write down things you like doing or things that have to be done. I chose to write some boring chores, like doing the dishes or laundry, but also things I like doing, such as painting my nails, experimenting in the kitchen, watching TV-series, reading, a few notes to self – such as “breathe” and “keep calm”. Write as many things  you want and if there’s something you like doing in particular, write it multiple times. I’ve also written new ideas, such as “learn a new hairstyle” and good pages online where it’s easy to get lost, such as Pinterest!

Cut it up.

Here’s the notes, ready to go.

Fold them  and put them in the box! All done.

So, before you open the door to the fridge or start planning a trip to the supermarket, open your box of good intentions, pick a note – do it. If you absolutely don’t feel like doing what the note says, pick another. If you finish a distraction and still feel tempted to binge and purge, pick another note.
If you get new ideas on how to distract yourself, you can always add more notes to your box.

Questions for you: Have you tried this before? Do you find it helpful? Are you going to try this? 

Enjoy your sunday ♡


I’ve been waiting for this day for quite some time now, at the same time – I don’t quite know what to say. I never dreamed of making it this far, but at the same time the thought of getting here has kept me going. I feel very pleased and relieved. I feel like I’ve achieved something and I know I have.

I worked incredibly hard for this, and you know what? It’s worth it.

Norsk vs. English, a poll.

A reader suggested I’d create a poll where you guys can vote when it comes to which language you prefer; blog posts written in norwegian or english – so I made one and you can simply vote here.

As I said in my last post; as of right now I’ve decided to write posts in English every now and then, depending on how I feel. I apologize to those of you who weren’t very enthusiastic about this, but in the end this is my blog and I have to do what suits me best.


Behind the Clouds.

I went to see my new therapist today for the second time. I can’t remember if I mentioned my first session, but it wasn’t a good one – not that it had anything to do with her at all. She seems quite alright. I try my best not to judge people too quickly, they might turn around and surprise you later.

Mostly we talked about my need to control things around me and how I react emotionally when I feel like I’m losing control and what strategies I use to cope with what I consider “loss of control”. The problem is; I use destructive strategies and since I haven’t self harmed in 457 days – I use bingeing and purging as my emergency exit when my feelings get the best of me.

As I was leaving she said she was going to “register my diagnosis” and I had to ask her what she meant, at first I was scared she was giving me a new diagnosis based on two meetings, but she was just registering my current diagnoses into their computer system. May I add that I’m quite pleased because I’ve only got two diagnoses compared to the longer list I dragged around a few years ago? My main diagnosis is atypical anorexia (slightly surprised she didn’t add “bulimic tendencies” but I guess my papers are detailed already) and agoraphobia.

I haven’t slept very well lately. No matter when I go to bed, I rarely fall asleep before 4am, which makes it hell to get up early if I have appointments or it makes me feel like a failure when I wake up around noon.

Today is day four without bingeing and purging. I surprised myself by making it through yesterday and I surprised myself when I went to the supermarket today without buying binge food. I just hope I’ll be able to stay on track because I’m having a “terrible body image day”, which basically means that my own appearance disgusts me. Why? Because of water retention. The water still hasn’t left my body and it makes me weigh a kilo (a couple pounds) more than I usually consider “too much” and it’s making me feel beyond horrible.

(How I felt this morning)
As I stepped on the scale this morning I immediately regretted my decision and my first thought was that I needed to binge and purge today, both as punishment and to not have to deal with this intense self hatred. It’s tiring and boring, I wish it wasn’t so hard to love myself? I don’t know how to.

Mirrors like these explains my terrible body image quite well. Imagine if you looked in a normal mirror and felt somehow like this? Knowing it’s not how you really look, but still you’re somehow fooled into trusting what you see?

But on the other hand I kept thinking how today’s day four which means today might be the day where my body will flush the excess water? I mean, I’ve been disappointed on day two, day three and day four already, so what’s one more? And I’m pretty sure I’ll fight to get through tomorrow as well because if I’m still full of water by the end of today, surely it MUST go away during tomorrow?

I’m desperately trying to convince myself of how it’ll be worth it once the water goes away, how I’ll feel more determined and more at ease with my own body and hopefully how motivated I’ll be to continue fighting this battle after getting through these crucial days. As I’ve said before; the beginning is always the hardest part.

It makes me sad to see how messed up my body is at the moment and knowing that I did this to myself. Fingers crossed for getting through the day. I’m hoping it wont be a problem because as I already mentioned; I don’t have any binge food available and it almost never happens that I lose control and binge one “safe food” (=acceptable food, food I can eat and keep down without feeling the need to purge).

On a britghter note: today’s been more or less anxiety free! I have absolutely NO IDEA of why, but after my therapy session my dad was picking me up but he was late so I started walking, and after walking for a few minutes it just hit me “why are you not panicking?!” I didn’t even think about it, I just started walking and once I was aware of how free I felt, it was thrilling and a huge relief to just be able to NOT obsess over everything that can go wrong. Out of the blue I started laughing, even if I was all alone.

Instead of going home we (me and my dad) went to a mall and had coffee. I also ran an errand by myself, ALONE while my dad was waiting in the car. I even had to ask someone to help me out because I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

I don’t even know how to explain how enjoyable this sort of freedom truly feels. All I know is that on days like this; all I can think about is how I want more, how badly I want it to be like this every single day. Days like today makes me feel like it’s possible to recover and experience days like today everyday.

And one more thing; as of right now I’ve decided to write posts in English every now and then, depending on how I feel. I apologize to those of you who weren’t very enthusiastic about this, but in the end this is my blog and I have to do what suits me best. As some of you know I’ve been pouring my heart out on a secondary blog for the past two years – written in english and I’ve come to realize how much time I spend writing similar stories in two different languages.

Those of you who’ve followed my blog for a few years know how “colorful” this blog used to be, I used to take lots of pictures and I wrote posts almost everyday (or even several times a day!). I want this back, therefore I’ve figured it’s easier to (at times) express myself in English only because it’ll mean that I’ve got the time to take pictures and edit them as well. My goal is to get this blog back to how lively it used to be because this blog will always be my main blog.

I hope you guys have a great weekend, and thank you for all your lovely comments and support. ♡


This might come as a surprise to my norwegian followers, but lately I’ve been debating wether or not I’d start writing my blog posts in english instead of norwegian. I’ve already got english speaking followers who’re battling google translate on a regular basis to read my blog. Apparently google translate “butchers” my words according to one of them, so I went to google translate and translated my own blog to English to see what she meant, let’s just say that I most definitely see her point. Click [here] too see for yourself. (Please click the link, I promise you’ll laugh.)

I dare say my English is pretty decent and I’m pretty sure it wont really be problematic for me at all to express myself in english. English was my favorite class in school (not when I did Media & Communication) but I still got A’s when I was well enough to study. I’m lucky though, I have english family so I’ve gotten a lot of practice “for free” because I’ve been visiting them in England and such things.

The first time I went to England I was twelve years old and I was a bridesmaid in my uncle & aunts wedding. When I was thirteen I spent four weeks in England, this is when I first met my godson/cousin who was six weeks old at the time. Probably the best summer I’ve ever had, new adventures every day! Pretty sweet memories.
I haven’t been there since 2006 or 2007 but I hope to go back once I’m fine with crowds, flying, traveling and ready. Technically I’m pretty sure I’d be able to go there now if I’d wanted to, but I don’t because I don’t want it to be a miserable experience. To be honest I haven’t thought about it, it might be a splendid idea to go anyway, no matter how I feel because deep down I know my fears are irrational and I’ve learned that I’m able to handle the situations I fear. Believing I’m too much of a coward to pull it off is all in my head and I don’t give myself enough credit for surviving, I keep expecting too much.

I’ve got so many posts I want to write. I’ve actually got some important posts I know I need to write  in order for you to understand where I’m at in this process. Not just related to agoraphobia, but my eating disorder has changed a lot too during the past seven months, and I don’t want to say “it’s for the better” because at the moment it’s more about grief and endless frustration than anything else.

The thing is, it’s going to take me a while to compose a decent explanation that might make you able to see things from my point of view, because this thing is so huge. What’s happened might just sound like a tiny detail, but it’s changed my life in so many ways and it’s not necessarily changes I like, but I haven’t got a choice. Well, I do have a choice, but let me give you a small teaser;

I’ve developed milk protein intolerance, therefore I’ve had to change my entire diet. (Nordmenn; jeg refererer til kosthold, ikke diett!) Everything I previously consumed contained milk or milk proteins besides from fruit and veggies, even my supplement drinks (ensure / næringsdrikk / nutridrink) contained milk or milk proteins which means I can no longer have them. I’m not going to start explaining it in this post, but as you’ve probably figured out, it’s going to be a long explanation.

Back to me not having a choice; I do have a choice. I can eat what I feel safe eating (“old” diet) and get sick, or I can eat something new and scary and not get sick, but battle with my mind and my emotional reactions instead. I can’t even begin to describe how hard it is to cope with this. Accept this. I’d like to use the expression “swallow”, but that’s a bit excessive. I don’t have a choice in getting sick if I consume anything dairy, therefore I must avoid it if I prefer being alright – which I obviously DO.

If you sprinkle some bulimic tendencies on top of this cocktail; that’s where I’ll place myself at the moment. I do manage to avoid milk when I avoid bulimic slips, but when I binge and purge I get sick x2 because I consume dairy products while bingeing. I HAVE TO STOP SO BADLY AND IT’S EXCRUCIATING! I’ll explain this further in a different blog post.

Any opinions in english blog posts? Yay or nay?

Bloggen skrives av Aria, 25 år.

Mer om meg og bloggen, finner du [HER].

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