Lick the Damn Spoon!

The other day I baked some incredibly delicious “breakfast cookies” (but let’s be real, I had one with my coffee for arvo tea that same day I baked them – defs a snack, m’iright or) and the recipe called for half a cup of peanut butter. I used this scrumptious dark chocolate PB from Fix & Fogg (and I 110% support you going and purchasing some bc #delicious). After scraping it out of the measuring cup and grabbing another spoon to mix all the ingredients together, I did this thing which I wouldn’t usually do when baking – in fact, that I downright just wouldn’t do because it scares the heck out of me – I licked the rest of the peanut butter off  of the spoon. And then I scraped the last of the jar and ate that. And then I used my finger and scraped the rest of it off of the measuring cup before dumping all of the dirty dishes into the sink. It was just like, the most natural thing. It was probably one of the most normal behaviours I’ve done around food in a long time, actually. And to someone who doesn’t know much about eating disorders or anything at all really, or who doesn’t know me and who wouldn’t understand why I was inwardly freaking the heck out just a wee bit, it wouldn’t make any sense at all. Truth be told I can’t even tell you it makes complete sense to me either.

So many thoughts crossed through my mind in a matter of a mere minute or two – was it OK that I did that, do I have to restrict somewhere else in my day if it wasn’t OK, is that (barely) a teaspoon of PB going to affect my weight in some way (1 – irrational, 2 – magical thinking)?

The non-eating disordered part of my head can sit here, look back and tell you that those thoughts were irrational, they were untrue and there was no need to take any action about licking that spoon, but in that moment when every single morsel of food that goes into my mouth is kind of really a hell of a lot frightening, those thoughts were real. They mattered, but what mattered more was what I chose to do with those thoughts and if I decided to take action against them.

I chose to try and justify it to my brain and reason with myself but then eventually moved on to ignoring them, despite the anxiety that was sitting in the pit of my stomach (along that sweet, sweet peanut butter). I sat with that, and I sat with it for a few hours and eventually the anxiety eased and I moved on with my day. And then that afternoon I ate one of those cookies and it was pretty dang good, if I do say so myself.

Licking the spoon: such a minor thing, but somehow a major thing as well. There’s a lot of symbolism in that – it’s a bit of an up yours to the eating disorder, actually. There are so many things that my head prevents me from doing on a daily basis because of these exact reasons that licking that spoon brought up – but just for this one day and in this one moment I was able to just let that go and have this one moment of normality and nostalgia (come on, who doesn’t lick the rest of that cake batter from the bowl before they put that cake in the oven? I can tell you I certainly used to prior to 2009 without fear or shame).

Lick that spoon. Eat those crumbs. Eat that last piece of chocolate just because it’s entirely delicious and you deserve to enjoy that and experience that and eat yummy things. There’s symbolism in the small things, and there’s freedom buried in that symbolism.

Go right ahead; I dare you.

Bekah X


Quasi Recovery.

It’s been almost 8 months since I’ve posted here. It hasn’t been for any one reason in particular – perhaps it more just shows how dang quickly this year has gone. I wouldn’t say there’s been A LOT happening in my life – I did have a week in New Zealand at the start of the year, 2 hospital admissions in there somewhere and a few nights in Melbourne for my first little solo trip. Oh – and my graduation ceremony. But I haven’t been working and as per the norm, all of this eating stuff has made things rather difficult in staying reliable enough to manage a job.  Continue reading

2017 (such an original title; oh mylanta)

I haven’t blogged for ages, as per the norm but given it’s the end of the year and I’m feeling rather nostalgic about the year that was (you know those NYE feels) I thought I might give blogging in 2017 one last crack.  Continue reading

giving myself permission to give in to the process of recovery

I’ve been considering blogging for a while now, but I haven’t felt like I’ve all that much to say. I’m not sure I’ve actually written this so explicitly before, but I actually tend to avoid blogging when things aren’t going so well in my world; if I’m engaging in eating disordered behaviours or whatever – who am I to be sitting here dishing out advice when things aren’t going great on my end? I feel pretty hypocritical even just considering it. So now you know – if I haven’t blogged in a while, it might be a sign that things aren’t good. It might also be a sign that things are great and I’m off living my life without a lot of time to focus on my blog or my eating disorder.

Anyway. That doesn’t happen to be the case this time around, unfortunately. Continue reading

Scotland & London.

It’s been just over a week since Dad and I flew back into Sydney from our week and a half in Scotland and London and I’ve been hanging out to blog about our time over there and the impact the trip has had on my recovery. I’m currently in the process of moving house and finishing my very last assignment before I graduate so whilst I’ve been trying to prioritise those things; my eagerness to write this has finally won out in the end. Continue reading

on exercise & whatnot.

On Sunday, I discharged from hospital again after a 7 week admission. It was supposed to just be a 3 week admission, but you know how it goes… You realise just how much there is to work on once you’re there. Continue reading

Moments of Clarity

On Monday, I was sitting in my first lecture for the semester for my last year of college. I didn’t know anyone else there – not one other person. No one else in that room besides me knew about my history of my eating disorder, nor did they know I was recovering from one. Perhaps they thought it strange that I sat there at 12pm and whipped out my lunch to eat during the lecture, but I sat there and knew that whipping my lunch out to eat at 12pm was exactly what I needed to do at this stage of my recovery. My lecturer stood up the front and talked for 2 hours about the early church, the fall of Jerusalem, about apostolic fathers and apologists from back in the day. I sat there in wonder at the way my brain was able to retain information (for the first time in years) and noticed my enthusiasm about being there. It was foreign to me.

At some point during the lecture I got a little lost in thought and sat there dwelling on the size of my arms, about how big they may appear to others and about how I perceive them to be. Just before I started to get too carried away with the thoughts though, another thought interjected – no one else here in this room is thinking about the size of my arms, or even cares about the size of them so why am I sitting here doing so?

It was this brief moment of clarity, but kind of a beautiful one and was something I haven’t experienced in a long time. And to be honest, it kind of really freaked the hell out of me.

As the brain ceases being starved and starts being refed, moments like this will happen. They will be brief, and probably not very frequent, at first. You will get glimpses of what life can be like without an eating disorder. You will have more and more moments of freedom and liberation. You will start to realise that there is far too much in your life to lose and that at some stage, you need to stop dancing with the eating disorder. You will see that there are possibilities and opportunities and ways forward – and that you actually have the strength to take these and make real change, despite the difficulty and distress and the tears and the thoughts that come up. I believe this.

The possibility of a future is a frightening one, but so is the prospect of living this way for the rest of my life. My prayer for you (and for me!) is that we can be brave enough to take all these small moments of clarity and carry them with us, remind ourselves of these truths daily and continue to work towards overcoming this hell of an illness that has taken way too much from you.



no words.

This afternoon we found out that a beautiful woman we were in treatment with earlier this year passed away yesterday. There are literally no words out there to articulate the sadness of her death, and that are no words to adequately express the shock and depth of the loss that so many of us are feeling right now.

The words I do have are these: when recovery seems never-ending, when recovery seems difficult, when the struggle doesn’t feel worth it… Remember that it is. Remember that there is life and hope beyond this. Remember that you have strength within you to beat this illness, and remember that this illness is unjust and unfair and wrong and devastating and that you deserve so much more than it can ever provide for you. If you can’t fight for yourself right now, please fight for those around you. Ash would be behind you and cheering you on every single step of the way.

Let’s make 2017 our year, and let’s look out for those around us and keep reminding them just how much we care for, love and value one another particularly during this holiday season that so many find so difficult.


Bek X


Last July after a 3 week admission, I discharged myself from a hospital where I had been receiving treatment for my eating disorder. I believed this to be my last admission. I walked out determinedly – desiring, more than anything, to keep myself on track and get on top of the eating behaviours and overexercise I had been struggling with for the last few years. I left there with a solid plan in place, follow up appointments with my doctor and dietitian and a willingness to do what was necessary for me in order to get my life back.

And I did. Continue reading

You Don’t Have to Hit Rock Bottom Before You Ask for Help.

I feel like in society, there’s this idea that we can’t ask for help until all hell breaks loose, until we’re in complete crisis, until we’re having a major meltdown, until the shit hits the fan… However you want to put it, our pride can often stop us from asking for help until we absolutely need it. We wait until we’re at rock bottom before asking for advice, asking for a hand with our uni work, asking for a shoulder to cry on, asking for help to follow our meal plan, asking for accountability for something we may be struggling with. This isn’t even specific to eating disorders – I think to some degree, this can be true of us all at various times throughout our lives. Continue reading