The Importance of Self-Care, Illustrated in Ten Scenes From A Life

[Content warnings: attempted suicide, eating disorders]

10. Rock bottom

After taking the overdose, I drift in and out of consciousness for three days - between pain - gut-wrenching, full-body cramping, a nauseating twisting sensation in my abdomen as if some vengeful god is wringing me out like a flannel - and total emptiness. 

On the fourth morning I get up and go to work. I write a post for my blog. I see my boyfriend. Everything is normal and nobody knows.

9. Self-loathing 

I have eaten three lychees and a black coffee. I have walked for an hour and done two exercise videos. In the fourth hour of aerobics, I faint. As I pick myself up off the floor, I curse myself for being so weak.

8. Operation Beautiful

In my lunch hour I am dicking around on the office computer when I come across something called Operation Beautiful (the site is now sadly defunct, but there is a book). I am transfixed. I am brought to tears by the simple act of women leaving kind messages for each other on changing room mirrors. 

The messages seem to land inside me with a thud.

 "Your weight does not dictate your worth."

 "It's just a number."

 "You are beautiful."

 I start reading Operation Beautiful every day.

7. Chocolate

Halfway through my latest fast, something snaps. Before I know it I am in the larder. I eat an entire pack of chocolate brownies and they are delicious. 

The seventh brownie is in my mouth when I realise my mum's partner is in the kitchen. He hands me a king size milk chocolate bar and I eat that too.

6. Touch

I book myself a massage. At first I am embarrassed but I slowly learn to relax and float away. When I leave I book myself another appointment. And a facial.

5. Change

I bleach my hair. I get dreadlocks. I shave one side of my head. I cut my hair off and turn up at my hairdresser friend's house hoping she can save what's left. She sculpts it into a sleek bob. I dye it silver. Then lilac. Then blue. Then pink. I stop shaving my legs. I take up dance classes. I start singing again, but only when I think no one can hear me. 

4. Singledom 

I end my long-term relationship the night before I move out of my childhood home.

I spend the next night on a squeaky camp bed in the middle of a box maze, listening to the traffic, looking at the soft cream arch of the apartment ceiling and feeling my future expanding around me. 

3. Flings

I have three partners. They all know about each other and none of them are serious (or so I think).

I am encouraged to move to Melbourne and possibly become part of a polyamorous triad. I give the idea serious consideration, but luckily before I book any flights I realise I'm having far too good a time where I am and also I might have fallen in love a little bit with someone closer to home.

2. Nature

After having a baby I am low for a long time, but as he gets older we find our rhythm. Often we nap together. Every day we go for walks outside. I had forgotten how good it is to jump in puddles, to bask in the sun. We paddle in the river and eat wild apples. Our tongues are blackberry-purple from August till November. 

1. Care

If I am thirsty, I get myself a drink. If I am hungry, I eat. If I need space, I say so. If something hurts, I stop. 

This is progress. This is care.

One afternoon I am alone at our holiday cottage. Dai and the Spud have gone to fetch supplies for dinner. I haven't shaved in a week and the soft water has made me break out, but I put on my swimming costume and I walk down to the beach and I plunge into the sea.

The water is cold and I am unkempt and tired, but I am free and I feel my own resilience and I am so glad to be here, now.