Of all things in life, I am struggling with my thighs at the moment. 5% of my body, 1% if that, and yet I can't stop.

Diary entries written from 2018 to 2019, writing this blog post is the first time I read them from start to finish.

Overwhelmed by thoughts - 29, single, no other real job experience than a subjectively-failed business - what do I do next?

Living with an eating disorder is like being at war - two voices in constant battle in my head, fighting to be heard.

There is no winning with an eating disorder. Less pride in recovery milestones, I only hear and see weight gain - and it still scares me.

Holidays are more about looking good in a bikini; until I'm loved and successful, I don’t believe I deserve it.

I am more afraid of, threatened by weekends than weekdays. Mental health ruins my capacity for fun.

I live in a constant state of worry - who will I be on the other side of recovery, and will people like me?

Today is my friend's birthday. Not even about me and yet I feel nervous, the eating disorder like a Scarlett Letter on my dress.

I have to consciously not overthink body change. Otherwise it will get to me that I no longer look or feel how I used to.

Cellulite has been my nemesis since the age of 16, I still struggle with it twelve years later.

Yoghurt is a fear food; although I took the plunge and bought one to have for dessert, I freaked out and never ate it. Here's why.

I continue to cancel or decline events and then feel sad to miss out. My choice, driven more out of fear than want.

Adjusting to body change is difficult and uncomfortable. I don't particularly like it.

What will it take for others to acknowledge and understand the extremity of an eating disorder?

Diet culture language is 'normal' - we hear it daily - and yet nobody admits to disordered thoughts. Is there really any difference?

I love Christmas - but I haven't left myself live Christmas since the eating disorder came into existence.

The eating disorder has taught me to worry. I overthink, lose sleep - and when it panics, I panic.

Sharing recovery highs is one thing - admitting to slipping up is shameful, weak, even.

The launch of my business - I'd be lying if I said I was happy with where it is today in 2020.