Year two of uni has begun and I love it. I live with the most amazing girls and for the first time in my life I feel like I actually belong somewhere. I don't feel like an outcast or an intruder and I haven't ever felt like that before. I love how it feels. I'm enjoying being back in a routine as well. Having to get up for lectures makes things so much easier because once I'm up I know I can face whatever crap life decides to throw my way.
My main news is I've joined the gym! It was a big decision. For those who know me, obviously my past anorexic experiences had to be taken into consideration. I spend my life living on the edge of falling back into very dark place. I eat just enough to maintain my weight, I keep my weight at the lower end of healthy. I do enough to stay well but I've never cured my mental battles. However, thus far the gym seems to have been going well. I'm still eating ok and as yet I haven't become over obsessed with it. I did a body analysis though which was a little traumatic. Everything is healthy. In reality my weight, BMI and body fat are pretty much spot on. But every time I try to reassure myself that this is the truth and that I'm not fat, the anorexic in me suddenly finds her voice again. I try to suppress it as much as I can but it's undeniably there. I just hope I can rely on the strength that has enabled me to stay healthy since leaving hospital 5 years ago to pull me through the days when I want to return to bad habits.
Some of you may question the title of my blog, 'Happiness is just an illusion' It's a lyric for a song and it pretty much sums up my attitude to life. At quite a young age I decided that it isn't actually possible to be truly happy and if there ever was to be a time in my life when I was truly happy I don't think I'd be able to let my walls come down enough to realise and appreciate it. Don't get me wrong, there is much about my life that I absolutely love and wouldn't change for the world. But I am one of those incredibly infuriating people who has an insane need to be constantly worried. I think I will never be able to grasp the fact that there will be times in my life where things are great and I don't need to worry. I don't believe in perfection. The perfect person doesn't exist yet. You can tell me I have an incredibly negative way of approaching life. I don't. I'm a realist. Yes it can be confused with pessimism but if you genuinely know me you'll know I'm not pessimistic. If I was I'd have given up on my life years ago. I believe we're all here for a reason and that our purpose in life is to constantly self-improve and be able to love others the way they love us. If I was a pessimist I wouldn't feel anything. I wouldn't love, and I wouldn't hate. Hate is a nasty emotion but a real one and sometimes healthy. Hate means you care. The day I stop hating is the day I stop caring and the day I stop having a reason to live.
