My Secret Life (23 page)

The issue of my self-worth was a topic dealt with extensively throughout my therapy. But the constant maintenance of a healthy perception of person and what qualifies me as a worthy person in this world is an ongoing endeavour. Every day, we are each presented with obstacles that can hinder, wound or severely damage us. My job for the time being is merely to overcome those obstacles in a healthy way and with a positive outcome. It sounds terribly simple when put into just one sentence like that. If only the reality were so easily dealt with. Then again, I’ve always been better with words than I have been with the life that inspires them.

Furthermore, the insecurities that so often surrounded the matter of men and my relationships came back to that concept of worth, time and time again. Only through the expansion and sincere inflation of my own worth have I been able to even mildly get a grasp on the relationships that they result in. But the truth is that, even in a stage of recovery or post recovery, my bulimia continues to affect my relationships with men. The most primitive way in which this can be seen is within just the admission of the eating disorder itself. She is still so meticulously intertwined into who I am that I cannot fully show myself to anyone without showing her too. There comes a point in any romantic relationship – if indeed, I wish for that romance to go any further – that she must step out of the shadows and into the light. Only when she is there can I be seen for all I am, both good and bad. Of course, this isn’t exactly pillow talk and thus, still carries weight in any romantic undertaking. They cannot escape it, no more than I can.

The hardest part of reconstructing my life, which has been forfeited to an eating disorder, is letting go. Letting her go has been like letting go of an imperative part of myself. And every now and then, late in the morning hours of sleepless nights, I often feel the itch of temptation at the back of my neck. She may drift into my head, willing me to regress. Ignoring her can be painful; it can be upsetting; and equally, it can be liberating. How I will respond to her coaxing is just a matter of how the cards are dealt on any given day. But in general, I cannot bring myself to think of her as I once did. She had been the magnum opus of everything that was wrong with my life. She had never been my friend. And every time I think too about these things, I always come to one devastating realisation: there had never been a ‘she.’ She never existed because she had always been me.

I was my own darkness and it was about time I owned up to that truth and God forbid, even embrace it along with everything else; not because it causes any good, but just because it’s a part of me as much as everything else.

Above my bed hangs a framed picture of Vincent Van Gogh’s
Starry Night
. It is perhaps my favourite of all his paintings, though this is subject to change with my mood, just as his painting was subject to his own moods. He was an artist of complete emotion. His work was an expression of what he felt and who he was. They were paintings without fear. There remains a most definite darkness to the concept of mankind and what it stands for in terms of the globe and all the individuals who compose it. I remember thinking this while looking at that
Starry Night
not long before I began writing this memoir. I recall being struck, among a very long list of other things, by the bright colours of that painting. How the swirling movement of them gave life to the hands that created it and now the eyes that beheld it. But my eyes could not help but fall into the dark absence of colour from time to time in that painting. There was a profound darkness in it. And then I realised that the brilliance of those extravagant colours was encapsulated only in that darkness.

Without it, such colours could surely never be so bright or so beautiful. Equally, the shadows of mankind play a similar role in all of us. The perfection of uninterrupted colour in the paintings of our lives would most certainly make for a blinding picture. Without that darkness, we cannot fully see the glory of our own light. Without that darkness, perhaps we would see no light at all.

Let the darkness out and let the light in.

Acknowledgements

Firstly, I would like to thank Michelle, a wonderful psychologist and an even better woman. Without you, I never could have made it through such a terrible time in my young life.

I would also like to thank my Granddad John, who instilled in me a most devout passion for writing. You have been an inspiration to me since I was a child and I will never forget all your encouragement and all your teachings about our shared craft of writing.

Furthermore, I was blessed to have been taught by three very special teachers throughout my education. Thank you to Mr. Enright, Ms. Dunne, and Ms. Traynor-Byrne. All of you saw potential in me when I don’t think I truly saw it in myself. Whatever flair for writing I had before, it was because of you that I was brought to a standard of actually being able to publish this book. Thank you for believing in me. Finally, I would like to thank John Mooney, who took a chance on me and on my little story.

About the author

Leanne experienced severe bullying as a child, was very reclusive and quiet, often finding solace in writing. She suffered with mental illness from a young age, experiencing episodes of anxiety and mild depression. In her teens she suffered from bulimia nervosa and underwent several months of behavioral therapy. Her book,
My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia
details that battle.

Leanne is now 21 years old and since that period, she has dedicated her time to her personal development, as well as her studies and writing. She is currently studying English at University College Dublin and works for the UCD
University Observer
. She hopes to enter into the field of journalism after completing her degree and go on to write both fiction and non-fiction titles. She lives in Bray, Co. Wicklow with her parents and siblings.

Published in 2011 by Maverick House Publishers, Office 19, Dunboyne Business Park, Dunboyne, Co. Meath, Ireland.

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E-ISBN: 978-1-908518-07-1 October 2011