Dark moments

I can think of two particular moments in my life in which I felt truly and utterly hopeless:

Occasion One: Realising thin doesn't equal happy

I can't remember exactly where it was, but around Christmas 2004 I had a sinking, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking realisation that I was thin. And still unhappy. In one of the rare snap-shot moments I had of seeing myself more or less as I was - at that point, a very thin, sad-looking girl - it came to me: I was thin and not happy. Thinness didn't bring the happiness it promised. I wasn't any prettier; I wasn't any cleverer; my problems were still there. 'Sinking feeling' doesn't describe it. It is one of the scariest, most hopeless times of my life. Not long after, I gave up. And the bingeing began.

Occasion Two: Standing on the edge

I was living in a foreign country as part of my university degree and Occasion One had occured a month or two earlier. My memories of this time are dark. I lived in a self-contained bedsit student room, made of stone. My first night there, I slept in a scratchy brown blanket and cried. The time was full of half-conscious moments. I struggled to make friends because I so wanted to be alone, yet was so desperate for someone to care I did things that make my toes crawl now; so degrading. I lost my best friend at the time, who seemed to turn against me. People stopped talking to me and I didn't know why. I was lonely, exhausted and bingeing on chocolate and cakes (nutella straight out the jar) because I didn't know what foods I'd like and was starving still from my anorexic year.

Later, I realised my behaviour was probably erratic and off-putting to those around me, who couldn't - or didn't want to - understand.

I knew I needed help, so came all the way back to England to see a doctor here, who would understand me (language issues). He was awful. He told me I "wasn't thin, but wasn't fat" and not to worry. I had spilled my guts out to this man - this stranger who scared me as it was ( a nurse set me off on my road to losing weight - another story) - and he threw it back at me. May as well have spat on me and finished the job off, really.

One day, upon returning abroad, I think I'd had a row with the ex-best friend on the way to/from school. I remember waiting alone for the train, edging closer to the side of the platform. I wanted to jump. I wanted it all to end. I was just afraid of hurting the people I loved, and afraid, I guess, that even if I did jump, it wouldn't end. Scary.

Whilst I have had many dark moments since, these stand out for me as most poignant. I learnt that controlling food didn't help me control my life, and the dark bits in it. And I learnt that even at the bleakest times, we are never really alone. I've never been so far gone since, and I hope never to be again. So I guess what I'm saying is shit happens. The dark times come, and most often, they fade a little and you carry on. Sometimes all you can do is carry on and hope the bright times come. And when they do, you really, REALLY see them.