Living with anorexia

The fiasco of the mouldy bread

I haven’t felt so emotionally volatile for a long, long time.  I feel like my emotions are constantly on the edge of a precipice and I have no idea when they are going to jump.  Suddenly, from feeling fine earlier today, this afternoon I am a tearful mess.

As I have written about before, being ill is incredibly boring.  I am a grown adult, stuck at home with my parents.  I have no freedom to live my own life.  Like a child I am reliant on them to take me out anywhere.  I manage to keep myself together most of the time, but like I said, I feel emotionally volatile at the moment, and out of nowhere I decided to take my pent up frustation out on my mum this afternoon.  As if it is her fault that I have no life.

Whilst I was busy complaining about how bored I am, and how everyone else gets to go out and have fun whilst I am stuck at home, I was trying to make myself a piece of toast for lunch.  Initially I wanted a banana, but the last one in the fruit bowl is starting to look a bit grim, and if there is one thing I hate, it is mushy bananas.  Reluctantly I decided to have a slice of toast instead. Making toast in our house is a performance in itself due to a toaster that frankly, puts a rather poor effort into doing the one job asked of it.  This means that making toast involves standing by said toaster, repeatedly popping up the bread to move and turn it, unless you are partial to bread with one crust burnt and one still frozen.  I had made my way through this performance (which, if I do say so myself, I have down to a fine art, after weeks of daily toast), and put the toast on my plate, only to realise it was mouldy.

Now, I know this not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.  But to my anorexic mind, food must be perfect.  Now, not only can I not eat the piece of toast I had prepared, the whole idea of toast is no longer perfect, and I’m not sure I would be able to eat another piece.

I’m standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down my face, partly due to the frustration of arguing with my mum, partly due to the sheer boredom of my life at the moment, but mostly because the bread was mouldy.

Not sure I’ve ever cried over mouldy bread before.

It’s very odd living in an anorexic brain.


5 thoughts on “The fiasco of the mouldy bread

  1. Aw no I understand this completely, it’s like – there’s such a battle to decide to eat and it feels so tense that if something goes wrong it’s s massive let down 😦 I’m sorry your toast was mouldy – that would totally upset me – especially since you went to all that trouble with the malfunctioning toaster xx you deserve good toast ! X


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