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>A lot happened between the ages of about 9 and 12. My brother moved out, to move in with his now wife. Although obviously before that he was out a lot with friends and at work etc, I do remember being upset when he moved out. My maternal grandfather, who I was very close to, died when I was 9 or 10. I remember going to see him in hospital, but he wasn’t the person I knew really. And then he died. I wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral because my parents didn’t agree with children being at funerals. I was sent to C’s house for the day to play. I have a vague recollection of playing in the garden with her, but feeling upset about my grandad dying, and everyone apart from me being at the funeral. My paternal grandmother died a few years later (I am very hazy about dates throughout my childhood). I hadn’t been close to her – she lived further away and I only remember seeing her about once a year. My mum and I went to see her in hospital, but I don’t remember anything about it, I just remember going. My dad was in Japan on a business trip when she died, and was still away for the funeral. I remember he wrote a poem which my mum read out at the funeral. I was allowed to go to that one. I suppose I was that bit older. I don’t remember much about it.

The main thing that happened in my childhood was my parents splitting up when I was 12. I remember that quite vividly. I remember seeing my mum upset a few times, and my dad comforting her, but I didn’t know why. Then one day, I was at C’s house, and my mum called and told me to come home. I didn’t want to because her cousins were there, and we were all having a good time, but she insisted. I went home and my parents told me that my dad was moving out. I was incredibly upset. I had absolutely no idea that there were any problems – it was completely out of the blue. My parents were the type of people who everyone expected to be together forever, so it was a complete shock. I remember getting very upset, and I remember my mum getting very upset. She phoned my brother and he came over. I was told initially it was just going to be for a few days, to give them some time apart, and I believed that. My dad took some things off and went to stay in a hotel. For some reason, they must have decided it would be a good idea if I went with him for the evening and went home later. I think my mum was too upset to look after me. So I went off to this hotel with him, and I suppose I went home later that night, although I don’t remember. I have only just remembered that he took me with him. Obviously it wasn’t just for a few days. He started looking for somewhere to rent. I went shopping with him one day and helped him buy things he would need – I remember choosing a duvet cover for him. It all feels quite surreal. Again, I am unsure why they thought it was a good idea for me to go shopping with him to buy things for his new home, when I was still being told it was temporary – it had just been changed from a few days, to a few weeks, to a few months. I was told at some point, I can’t remember when, that he had been having an affair with a girl who worked for him. I say girl, because that was how I thought of her. I think she was about the age I am now. It had been going on for some time, but nobody knew. As soon as he had moved out, he broke up with her anyway. I never met her.

My sister had been at university in Edinburgh, but was upset by my parents splitting up, and took a year out and moved back home. I am not entirely sure why it affected her so much, as it wasn’t her dad – my siblings have a different father to me, and although she always got on fine with my dad, she had never called him dad or anything like that – she never thought of him as her parent. But she did come home, and her attitude towards me had completely reversed. When I was a young child she had been besotted with me, and spoilt me. As I got older she was still very fond of me, and when she was living in London she used to take me there and we would go to a museum or something, and she took me to the ballet once, and the theatre another time. She used to buy me lots. I went to stay with her twice in Edinburgh. We were always close. But when she moved back for the year when I was 12/13 her attitude had completely changed. That was the point where she started having issues with me. She would say that I was a spoilt brat and a little witch and just generally wasn’t very nice to me most of the time. I certainly never, ever had any support or understanding from her.

Parents splitting up is nothing unusual – it is so common for couples to split up, and children just seem to deal with it. But I think in a lot of ways I didn’t. I think there are a few reasons for this. Firstly, it was not a straight forward case of parents not getting on and fighting, one moving out, then getting a divorce a little later. In fact, that couldn’t have been much further from what happened. There had been no fighting, or certainly not that I had ever witnessed, and our house is not so big that I wouldn’t have heard screaming matches. The separation itself was I suppose unusual to say the least. Despite my dad having an affair, my mum still loved him and did not want him to leave. And they still got on. As I have already said, I was told initially that is was just going to be a few days, then that time period gradually extended. But it was always assumed they would get back together – this was just temporary, and there was never any talk of divorce or anything. I think that my mum had convinced herself it was temporary, which meant she could easily tell me that. However, as it was a temporary thing and they had not actually split up, that meant that we didn’t tell other people. For years. Obviously a few people knew – family, and a couple of friends of my parents, and C and her family. But that was about it. It was all very secretive. My mum was devastated by him leaving. She didn’t cope well with it at all. I remember her losing quite a lot of weight, and she is naturally very tiny anyway, and being prescribed anti depressants. She went to see a counsellor. They tried couple counselling a couple of times, but my dad was very against it, and so it only happened a couple of times. Apart from a couple of my mum’s friends who knew, and this counsellor who encouraged her to punch cushions, she didn’t really have anyone to talk to, so sometimes she used to talk to me. We were very close, but of course I was only 12, and I didn’t understand why my dad had moved out when my parents got on so well, and everyone had assumed they would be together forever. I never told anyone about my dad leaving. My mum worked where I went to school, so nobody there knew, until one day in a PHSE class when there was something about divorce etc being discussed and I had to leave because I was feeling very upset. My mum then told my form tutor, who said she would avoid talking about that in PHSE again, but still nobody else knew.

To everyone else we kept up the facade of being a happy family. I don’t know why. After my dad left, in some ways things didn’t change much. He used to come over and see us some evenings and weekends. He still came on holidays with us. He always came and stayed for the Christmas period. I have never had a Christmas or holiday without both of them being there, despite my dad not living with us. I have friends who I didn’t even meet until years after my dad who had left who thought that my parents were together, because my dad would come and stay when needed, and they would still do things together. My dad phoned every day and spoke to both my mum and I. The few people who did know that they had split up said how lucky I was that my parents still got on so well, and that he still spent so much time with us, but actually I think it was just really confusing. At first of course it just perpetuated my belief that this was a very short term arrangement. Later I didn’t really know what was going on. Sometimes there would be a period when either my mum or I would get angry with him, and refuse to speak to or see him, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. If I was still speaking to him but my mum wasn’t then he would take me out, although I only remember that happening a handful of times. If I wasn’t speaking to him but my mum was then they would still talk on the phone but he wouldn’t come over. If neither of us were speaking to him then obviously that was that.

One of my strongest memories of that period in the first year or so after he left, or perhaps longer, was of how incredibly distressed I used to get when he came over for the evening and then left. He would come over, and we would all be getting on fine, and it would just seem normal. And then he would leave. I think pretty much without fail this made my hysterically upset. I used to sob for hours. I remember trying to chase the car up the road as he drove away, crying hysterically. When I was really upset I used to lie down in the road outside the house. My mum used to try to get me inside in case someone saw me. She used to cry as well. We would both just cry inconsolably sometimes. And most of the time he was coming over at least a couple of times a week, unless it was a not speaking to him period. So it was an emotional time. It was at this time, when I was 12, that I first remember wishing I was dead. I wasn’t suicidal, and I certainly wouldn’t have acted on the thoughts, but I do remember thinking it.

I was also increasingly unhappy at school. Probably partly because I was unhappy generally, and partly because I was being bullied. Not badly – it wasn’t physical or anything. But I didn’t have any friends. I went to a very small school, with very small year groups and classes. From age 13 or 14 onwards there were only 5 girls in my year – before that there were maybe 3 more. One was H. The one who used to lock me in her bedroom when I was little. H was a bully – there is no denying it. When we were younger, up to the age of 11, there had been far more girls, and there was a little clique of popular girls, who could be quite nasty, and did tease her, although I always stuck up for her, despite her not always being nice to me. However, they all left at 11 to go to other schools, and somehow, when we started back at school in September, she was the leader of our year group. I have no idea how that happened, but she had a very strong personality, and somehow just took over. She didn’t like me. She made best friends with the one remaining girl of the clique who had previously bullied her – this girl was actually quite nice, but rather sheep like, and would just follow others. Throughout school from 11 to 16 I was very lonely. Some days would be ok, but other times I would just get constantly teased. I was very naive and young for my age, and one of the things H liked to do to embarrass me was stand there with everyone around her and ask me what certain words and phrases meant – about sex or drugs, or other things I just knew nothing about. Of course I never knew, and then everyone would laugh at me. And then the usual childish name calling. Despite not doing much in the way of work at school and perpetually leaving things until the last possible minute, I still did well, and so got the usual ‘boffin’ comments etc. And things like making sure I didn’t have anyone to sit with in class whenever possible, and obviously staying away from me at break and lunch times. Nothing major by any means, but all things that were upsetting and confusing to me as an 11 – 15 year old child. Particularly as some days she would suddenly turn and be nice to me and ask me to sit with her and things like that. I never knew where I was. My attendance rate at school got worse and worse. More and more illnesses – some real, some minor but exaggerated, some psychosomatic, and some just faked. I was at an age where I could actually stay home from school rather than go and spend the day in the sick bed, so it was even more appealing.

In restrospect, when I look back I am quite confused by some things that did, or didn’t happen. A lot of it feels very painful to think about, but I feel pathetic for thinking that, because so many people go through such horrific things, and parents splitting up should surely not have affected me at all in the long term? But when I was talking about it with L she pointed out that actually it was probably quite traumatic for me, as a 12 year old, to be in such a confusing situation, and to have to keep it all a secret. During the appointment, when we were talking about it, I would get little flashes of vivid memories, and some of them were really quite painful. I remember one day being at a friend’s house to play, and her mum was one of the few people who knew that my parents had split up, and I remember her asking me how my mum was and how she was coping, and me just desperately wanting her to ask ME how I was, and how I was coping. But nobody ever did. My parents obviously knew what a state I was in, as they saw it. My siblings never once asked how I was. And apart from that very few people knew, and those who did only thought about my mum – after all, it was her and my dad who had split up, not me. It was nothing to do with me. Except of course it was. But I never had anyone to talk to. My mum had her counsellor she used to go and see, and even my dad saw the counsellor a few times on his own, because my mum wanted him to, but I never had anyone to talk to. I was never asked if I wanted to talk to a counsellor or anything, and there wasn’t a school counsellor, and even if there had been I wouldn’t have been able to speak to them because it was a secret of course, and my mum worked there, which also ruled out talking to any teachers. I remember one time when I was particularly upset my mum asking if there was someone I would like to talk to, and suggested a couple of people I knew from performing. I said that maybe it would help to talk to this one girl (although in retrospect it wouldn’t have been fair – she is only 5 or 6 years older than me, so would have only been 17 or 18 at the time, although of course that seems completely grown up when you are 12) because her parents had split up when she was younger so she would understand. And my mum got very upset and started crying because I had said about this other girl having parents who had split up too, because of course my parents hadn’t split up – it was a temporary arrangement remember? And so she got very upset and left my room, and me talking to someone was never mentioned again. So I learnt to bottle everything up. Because actually, I didn’t have a choice. Of course I could talk to my mum, but that just resulted in her getting upset every time, so that didn’t help at all. I was angry with my dad. My siblings didn’t seem to care, or even think about me. And the few other people who knew would ask about my mum, but not about me. And there was no option of counselling or anything like that. So I learnt to put on a happy face, and started developing my happy mask. Looking back on it now, I don’t know why my mum thought that she needed a counsellor, and that my dad needed a counsellor, but that I didn’t need anyone. It seems strange in retrospect that she could see my lying in the middle of the road sobbing hysterically and not think I perhaps needed to speak to someone. But I think she was genuinely in such denial about the whole thing that it didn’t even occur to her. My dad had just moved out for a little while, and would be coming back, and so maybe she thought there was nothing to talk about. I don’t know. But I think that actually it would have helped me to speak to someone – both then, and further down the line. Because of course by the time I got older I had become an absolute pro at keeping my mouth shut and keeping everything bottled up, and not telling anyone anything, and never mentioning feelings or emotions, that I think I had become completely detached from my emotions and how I actually felt, and so consequently found therapy virtually impossible.

There is more to come in the saga of my parents’ relationship and my childhood/adolescence, but this is quite long enough already, and I am feeling vaguely emotional, although I don’t know why, so yet again I will continue this tomorrow….

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>Another exciting day….

>It has been a pretty uneventful day. A few days ago I had ordered a Sims expansion pack online, because I thought it might give me something to do and keep me occupied and distracted for a while, and that arrived this morning. I installed it and tried to play it but just couldn’t be bothered – I couldn’t concentrate and it just didn’t interest me, so I gave up after a while. I am just trying to find something that will interest me and hold my attention and there is nothing. Last week when I was away, I was starting to feel like I was on the edge of things getting worse again, and I tried to make a mental list of things that I like doing so that I could use it if things did get worse. I came up with a few things. The trouble is, I had forgotten how much my concentration and motivation disappear, and so it has rendered my list useless. Reading? Yes, great when things aren’t too bad, but I can’t get through a page again now. In the week I was away I read 4 books – since I have been home I have read 1 book, and that was in the first couple of days after I got home. Since then I have been trying and trying and can’t even get through 1 chapter. Logic puzzles – I like logic puzzles. I tend to forget about them for the majority of the year, but for some reason I always take a puzzle book on holiday with me, and get one at Christmas, and the logic puzzles are always my favourite. But I can’t do them now. I stare at them and they just make no sense to me. How on earth am I supposed to work them out? And why would I want to? Why would I give a shit who bought which present and where and how much it cost? Watching TV/DVDs. I try putting the TV on, but it either irritates me to the point where I have to turn it off, or I drift off and realise I haven’t actually got a clue what is going on. The internet. I spend hours and hours a day on the internet – I send emails, I read blogs, I read articles about various things, I read message boards, I look things up. Now I turn on the computer, check my email, and then wonder what I usually do after that. I look at some blogs, but they seem confusing and complicated. I try looking at some message boards, but decide I don’t actually care about anything being discussed. It all seems pointless. I don’t know what to do with myself. Everything I can think of to do is just beyond me. It either seems far too difficult and complicated, or completely pointless, or both.

I had an uneventful appointment with my GP earlier. We discussed the crap weather in Cornwall, as she was on holiday in Cornwall the same week as me. I noticed multiple mistakes in my notes that I pointed out. Her notes said I have been sectioned, which I haven’t. There were a couple of incorrect diagnoses on there, including Narcissistic Personality Disorder (long story but a fuckwit of a psychologist, who actually seemed fairly narcissistic herself, diagnosed me with that once – that was my first PD diagnosis, and probably the reason I ended up with a BPD diagnosis, as everyone else realised that Narcissistic Personality Disorder was completely and utterly inaccurate and that I didn’t meet a single disagnostic criteria, but seemed to feel the need to diagnose me with some type of Personality Disorder, and Borderline seemed most appropriate. That is my interpretation of events anyway. But that was all about 2 years ago, so shouldn’t still be on my notes). Missing suicide attempt. I think that was more or less it. She changed all the wrong things, added the right things, wondered how the wrong things had ended up on there. Exciting stuff.

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>Cornwall Day 7 and Home

>I am back home. The last couple of days of my holiday were ruined rather, as I came down with a nasty bug, that had me vomiting for 8 hours on Wednesday night. Very unpleasant. I have no idea where it came from – I am sure it wasn’t food poisoning, as I hadn’t eaten anything that could even be remotely suspicious, but I don’t know anyone who was ill, so I have no idea where I could have caught it from. I didn’t feel that great Wednesday evening, but I was ok, and then about midnight I started feeling really quite sick, and half an hour later I was being violently sick, and that carried on right the way through the night. It was quite strange, because it is unusual for me to get stomach bugs – my mum usually gets any of those going around, and I get headache/earache things, and nausea but not actually being sick. Whenever I have a sick bug it always strikes me how different it is being sick when you are ill to purging. Strange really. I suppose it is partly a control thing – when you are purging it is a choice and you are in control of it, whereas when you are ill it just happens, and is really quite hideous!

So anyway, I was in bed all day Thursday – I slept a lot of the time, as I had got very little sleep during the night, and I felt too weak to get up, plus I was still feeling ill. I felt a bit cheated really, as I had planned to go swimming again, and there were other things I wanted to do, and I was just stuck in bed all day. My parents went out for a meal in the evening, as we had already booked, but I knew that even sitting in the pub with them would be too much, so I stayed home. And then we left this morning. The car journey back wasn’t great, particularly the first hour or so, as I still feel quite ill, and even though I hadn’t been sick since yesterday morning, and knew I probably wouldn’t be, I felt very sick, and I still can’t think about any food except very plain, salty things, which I always find good when I feel sick – ready salted crisps are the best, and salted crackers, but that has been about the extent of my diet today and yesterday. On the plus side, I had lost weight yesterday morning! Obviously purely because I had thrown up everything I had eaten, and wasn’t even able to keep water down, but at least it stopped the weight gain, if I am doing the looking for the silver lining thing. I didn’t weigh today as the scales had already been packed in the car by the time I got up this morning, so I will have to see what the total holiday weight gain damage is when I get up tomorrow….

I need to sleep now – I am very tired, despite sleeping for several hours in the car on the way home, as well as last night and most of yesterday. I am hoping that I will feel better in the morning.

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>Cornwall Day 6

>I gained more weight again today. Total weight gained since I came away is now nearly 4lbs. My freak out is naturally now at pretty epic proportions. I don’t know what to say about it – thinking about it is too upsetting.

Shitty weather today – it just rained nonstop all day, so I didn’t really do much – sat about reading, and then this afternoon my mum and I went off to another village nearby for a couple of hours and looked around the shops, but that was about it. Forecast is pretty crap for tomorrow too – grey or drizzly all day. Friday is meant to be dry, but I will be on my way home then. Typically the forecast for the weekend is pretty good. Feel a bit crap today. Think it is mostly the weight stuff getting me down, and then not being able to talk to anyone.

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>Cornwall Day 5

>So it appears that yesterday was the calm before the storm in terms of weight. In the 24 hours between weighing yesterday and today I had gained over a pound, which brings my total weight gain since I have been away up to a little over 3lbs. I was really quite upset about this, naturally. If I had gained 3lbs in half a week, and I carry on at that rate, then that will mean I gain about 6lbs whilst away for one week, which is obviously absolutely shit. Why is it that I can gain this fast, and yet I failed to even lose 2lbs a week?? It seems colossally unfair, and I don’t know what to do. You would have thought that after gaining so much weight today I would have eased up on the food a bit today, but that didn’t really happen either. I had lunch, and then an ice cream, and then we went out for a meal tonight, and I had dessert. I did come home and immediately purge the dessert, which isn’t brilliant, but I don’t actually care if it has saved me from gaining some weight. I already know that my weight tomorrow is going to be disastrous again though – I weighed a minute ago, and if I weigh at night wearing these pyjamas, then I am usually about 2lbs heavier than I am the following morning, and if that is right then I will have gained another pound tomorrow. I am feeling so shit about myself. I have already undone the weight loss from the last couple of weeks, and if I keep going like this then I am going to end up back at the weight I was back in mid July, or even earlier. I feel pathetic, but just thinking about it is making me feel really suicidal. I feel disgustingly greedy and repulsive for letting this happen. I thought if I brought my scales away with me then it might help me to control things a little, but it just isn’t working – unless I do my usual thing of restricting to one meal a day then I will gain weight, and that is absolutely impossible for me when I am away with my parents like this. I really do not know what to do – I am feeling so upset and tense and desperate about it all.

The weather hasn’t been too bad today. Not warm, but we have at least seen the sun, which is something of a novelty. I have managed to get a little bit sunburnt on my face this week, which isn’t really surprising given that I rarely bother to put on any sun cream, and I am incredibly pale. I am currently sporting a fairly red nose, which isn’t too attractive. I went in the sea again earlier this evening. I jumped and dived off the jetty a few times, and then just swum across to the beach. I wasn’t going to, as it wasn’t that hot, but I was about to get in the shower and wash my hair anyway before going out, and since we are literally about 20 metres from the sea I thought I may as well have a swim first. It was bloody cold of course, and I managed to swallow a fair bit of sea water when jumping in, which made me feel a little ill. I kept thinking that surely being in the cold water, and swimming, would have to burn some calories. It won’t be enough though. It never is. The forecast for tomorrow is rain all day, so I won’t do anything remotely active then, but I doubt I will manage to eat much less, so I will be piling on the pounds. Thursday looks like being fairly similar to today weather wise – dry, and some sun, but only about 17 degrees, and reasonably windy. The weather has been pretty disappointing really. I always hope for lovely weather when I come to Cornwall, and it so rarely materialises. I might go snorkelling again on Thursday if the weather does what it is supposed to. At least then I am doing something active, even if it is freezing cold. And then home on Friday, which I have quite mixed feelings about. I am scared that when I get home the weight gain will really hit, and I just won’t be able to cope and will end up a suicidal mess. And I really do love this place, and would like to stay longer – maybe until some good weather arrives. But on the other hand, it will be good to get back to my safe space, and be able to have more control over food, and hopefully my weight, and not be so cut off from people who would usually support me – it is stupidly hard not being able to use my mobile phone, and only having internet access sporadically. But I am quite scared about going home and how I will cope with having gained so much weight when I am back in my normal environment. Badly I suspect…

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>Cornwall Day 4

>I had maintained today, which was the most enormous relief, and which I really wasn’t expecting. I hadn’t had breakfast or lunch, apart from a couple of dry crackers, and I had been snorkelling for half an hour, and I suppose the extreme cold of the water must make your body burn calories, as well as the swimming, but I had still expected to gain, as I had an ice cream in the afternoon, and then we went out for dinner in the evening and I had a main course and a dessert, and so I was sure I would have gained today, but I was exactly the same as yesterday, so that was really good. I will have gained tomorrow though – we went out for a cream tea this afternoon, so I had two scones with clotted cream and jam. Whilst I have been away I have been trying to kind of substitute things, so for example I knew I would be having the scones this afternoon, so I didn’t have any breakfast or lunch to try to make up for it a little bit, and we also ate at home tonight, so I had a toasted cheese sandwich and some lettuce rather than a big meal, but I did then have some crisps and chocolate this evening, which wasn’t so good. But I am hoping overall it won’t be too terrible tomorrow. I think substituting foods like that is about the best way I can cope with things – it isn’t ideal, and it isn’t enough to stop me from gaining weight, but it should at least stop me from gaining as much weight as I would if I ate everything, and it is better than purging. Tomorrow we will be eating out, so that will be quite difficult again – I will try and just have something small at lunch time and as little else as possible.

I would like to go in the sea again really – both for calorie burning reasons, and fun, but today was really windy, and so although it wasn’t actually that cold, it felt it, and it wouldn’t have been any good for snorkelling, which is when I stay in the water for longest – if I was just going in for a swim I probably wouldn’t be in there for long, so it seems a bit pointless. I debated going in this afternoon, but in the end I decided it was just too cold, and I couldn’t face it. I am hoping that tomorrow will be a little better and that I will be able to brave it, but it doesn’t look like it will be if the forecast is anything to go by. The forecast for the rest of the week is pretty shitty really – quite a lot of rain, and strong winds every day, which means I probably won’t want to go out much because it will be too bloody cold. I wanted to go canoeing on the sea, but it looks like it is going to be too windy for that all week, which is a shame, because that is the second year we have wanted to do that and not had calm enough water. And I just think that things like that, and snorkelling, have got to burn so many more calories than sitting around in the house or wandering around the village, which is what I will probably be doing if the weather is crap, and if I am burning more calories then I don’t feel quite so bad about the amount of food I am eating, although it is still difficult obviously.

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>Cornwall Day 3

>This is too hard. I don’t know what to do. I am already at the weight that I had set as my maximum weight for going on holiday and it is only Sunday. I have gained 2lbs since Thursday. I am here until Friday – whatever size will I be by then? I really don’t know how to deal with it. I knew I would gain weight, but I thought I could just keep it to a couple of pounds. But it is already a couple of pounds, and I have only been here for two days. I miss being in my bedroom on my own and not having to eat anything until the evening. I hate being surrounded by food like this – knowing that in the next room there is a massive bag full of sweets, and biscuits, and chocolate. Knowing that if I popped next door I could get an ice cream, or walk up the road two minutes and get a cake. Knowing that I will be expected to go and eat out at least another few times. There are definite advantages to living in the middle of nowhere, not surrounded by shops selling nice things to eat. To staying in my room where there is no food, and keeping away from the kitchen which is full of food. To sleeping all morning, so that by the time I wake up it is already lunch time, and then I can just skip lunch and wait until dinner. I can’t do that here. For a start my bedroom leads off the kitchen. I can’t even get out of the house without going through the kitchen. And then if I do make it out the house then there are ice creams and cakes and clotted cream. I am terrified of how much weight I am going to gain whilst I am here. So far I have been trying really hard to avoid foods that will make me gain loads of weight. I said no to cakes, and I didn’t have dessert when we ate out. I have had ice creams, but that is all. My mum bought me a sausage roll for my lunch today, but I haven’t eaten it. And I have still gained 2lbs. What will happen on the days when I can’t resist dessert, or we go out for scones with clotted cream, or my mum buys cakes? How much weight will I gain then? I hate that my weight can have so much impact on my life. That I care so much about my weight that I can’t eat what I want when I am on holiday, and that gaining 2lbs has set my mood plummeting. I feel so hopeless.

I went in the sea earlier, snorkelling. It was bloody cold. Well, it was ok when I was in, but getting in was painful. Saw some fishes and sand eels and a crab, but nothing too exciting. Well, one of the fishes was very big and ugly, but I didn’t get to see him for long because he hid back under the seaweed. And a little tiny bright blue fish who was darting around on the surface of the water in the shallows, and looked like he belonged somewhere tropical, rather than the freezing cold Cornish water.

It is meant to rain really heavily this afternoon and overnight. Still only seen little glimpses of the sun. It would be nice to have some warm, sunny weather, but it doesn’t look like that is going to happen.

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