Happy Holidays

I have had requests to shorten my blogs for easier reading, but most stories lead to the next so this one of about 3000 words, will be halved with a line of ..... so you can stop there and carry on, and be able to see where you left off. For those of you who read the entire thing all in one chunk… just discard this little message. But this is long, and probably the last seriously serious one.

Part 1:

So here we are. This is probably the tipping point of my uncontrollable, distasteful, vulgar and downright-selfish-obnoxious behaviour started to take its form. After the big celebratory holiday with friends, I was off further down the coast with my family for Christmas. It was what should have been a relaxed, beach holiday. But thanks to me and my accelerated thirst for anything containing alcohol I made the holiday a living nightmare.

Every day it was the beach and a couple of cocktails at the beach bar, then home, maybe some dinner, (but not to much because eating is cheating) get dressed and go to one of the siffest but most fun joints in town. The kind of bar where one can see the locals who hang out there every week/night, the bar is sticky from some sweet shooter that was probably spilled the evening or two before, where the toilet has no toilet seat and you would be lucky to find a square of toilet paper lying on the floor. That kind of place. The sort of place that is so rank its fun. So that was nearly every evening.

After one of these evenings, one of our first, there was barely any food in the house, except an undressed salad of cucumber, lettuce and carrots. No cheese, no chicken none of that jazz. So we understand the salad was pretty dismal and non eventful. This was the only food available in the morning. So when people eat a greasy breakfast, or make some buttered toast to cure them of their hangovers, I ate cucumber and lettuce which made me feel even worse but I tried to keep it down. That morning for some or other reason we were all in the driveway greeting guests or something. I could feel my mouth going watery, and cold beads of sweat forming on my forehead, I tried to keep swallowing, I tried breathing but I just couldn’t hold it. Now I have seen projectile vomiting on TV but this was real life and it was me. Huge pieces of cucumber shot out and hit my stepfather’s car. I had a jersey that I tried to catch it in before it flew but no such luck. Everyone funnily enough thought it was kids riding past throwing cucumbers, which was odd because lets be serious a cucumber isn’t really a food of choice when one decides to throw food or objects, but the speed and power that the cucumber bits hit the car at, one would believe it. After a few minutes of confusion from all parties I spoke up and said that I wasn’t feeling too hot and all was ok. But there we have it. The start to the Christmas holidays, and not a good one at that.   

I had just got my nose pierced, why I don’t know, I had never had anything against the things I just never liked them, but the answer is yes… yes I was drunk when I had it done. That’s not the point. I had my nose ring, black hair, self-tan of course and I didn’t leave the house without black eyeliner on, even to the beach. I just looked dirty and to be honest at the time I couldn’t have given a continental f*&# what I looked like or who said what. I was numb that holiday. I did meet a boy there though who eventually became my boyfriend, my first serious relationship that lasted longer than 4 weeks. We only started dating after this holiday.

I don’t know if many people find this but after drinking for 2 weeks straight you stop getting hangovers, it is like your body becomes used to the alcohol and dehydration. That’s what happened I stopped hanging, and I drank everyday. The big one was Christmas. My friend and I were at the beach and began drinking cocktails at about lunchtime. And there is nothing quite like having cocktails on the beach and just getting merry in the sunshine, not so cool is going home and trying to leopard crawl past the folks so that they cannot see how utterly pissed you are. We got caught leopard crawling. We were midway behind the couch, half way to the bedroom, so, so very close. I gripped onto the back of the couch hoisted myself to a standing position with a slight sway and said to my mom, after she had been slaving away the whole day to give us an amazing Christmas meal, that I was too tired and I thought I may just take a nap. Well she left the room and came back with a rehydrate and basically said in not so many words that I drink the rehydrate, wash my face and get to the table now.      

With that I piled my plate full, like you see on the movies where someone sees a buffet for the first time, and the food is kind of trickling of the edges but space is still trying to be made to squeeze a few more potatoes on, that was it, and I had a second helping which resembled the first. After eating twice as much food as the men at the table did, I said to my mom that we were going out. One can imagine her reaction, so my friend and I went to my room, got our swimming costumes on and took a quick dip, waited for everyone to go to bed and took the car out to the estate about 10km down the road. She went to go meet her holiday squeeze and here I met mine. We drove home early the next day; early enough to sneak back into my room unnoticed. Of course my mom found out later on and was not at all impressed despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve and we had gone to another family and perhaps ‘crashed’ their Christmas party.

I didn’t have my drivers yet so my friend drove us around where ever we were headed, but there were a couple of times I wanted to go to the beach in the early hours of the morning and she, having her head screwed on would say no lets just go to sleep and we will go to the beach later. I was not a very reasonable person, I was stubborn and if I want to do something I would. So, if she refused to take me to the beach I would walk myself, pack some kind of excuse for a beach bag and stumble about 2km to the beach, fall asleep on the sand when the beach was still empty and wake up to the sound of children splashing around and families enjoying picnics and such. It was not a very comfortable situation, I remember the smell on my breath, reeking of booze, quite shaky, and just not feeling good. So usually at about 11am I would toddle home to get out of the sun. I also remember people staring at me as I walked past on my way home, pale faced and eyeliner so smudged and stale one could almost chisel the stuff off. Gross. But at the same time I couldn’t care. I didn’t care; I hated everyone because they had the pleasure of not being me.

I wanted to get away. Get away from people, away from confrontation and I suppose get away from myself, but that’s one tragedy I believe people often face we can hate ourselves but we cant escape, and I think this slowly drives us, perhaps not mad, but to severe depression and loneliness.

Part 2:

I couldn’t get away after Christmas we were off to Austria with about 5 other families, the 1^st skiing holiday we had had as a family without my dad and he, on all our holidays was the kind of leader of the pack. So this one threw me off. We were all following a different leader and I suppose my family was trying to suppress the memories of my dad as well and put on a happy face. I was suppressing that and my little schoolgirl holiday memory that was still a well-kept secret. Every night was heavy drinking, I would go out drink far too many vodkas and try and lose myself amongst the Austrian air.  And did I loose myself. I table drank, (drinking unattended beverages= free alcohol= not a good idea= gross), got absolutely wasted that I in fact did go missing… twice that holiday.

Some worried sick, like my family and a few others, while others made a huge deal about how drunk and reckless I was, and I suppose making a point that I was the only child that had done such things. Talk about other people’s kids and how badly behaved they are, and detract attention away from your own or your children’s mistakes. I walked home at about 12 in the afternoon, and made up a story that the bartender had taken me on a tour around the town and then for an early breakfast. Truth, I ambled around the town looking for people or rather friends I could make. Looking for people I could just talk to and know that they had no connection to anyone I knew. Because in Austria and out alone, I was the only association to me they would have. I went into the most interesting bars. One to my shock and surprise had strippers just roaming around, sitting at tables, kissing the clients, drinking then when it got too much jump on the bar and treat people to a poll dance. I felt very uncomfortable, I felt sorry for the young women getting pawed by the older men. It seemed they too were drugged up on alcohol or something else, possibly to numb themselves from their own reality. They too seemed lost and despondent, there in body but nothing else. I left that bar, and its seedy, opium den-like atmosphere.

I must have walked into the next town because I remember the walk home and it was not pleasant, probable a two-hour walk. And I was in for it. It sort of became the joke of the holiday when really I knew people were chatting about me on the side. Then it happened again and I was not allowed out as long as everyone else, I had a curfew. My mom was actually nice enough to let me enjoy the last few nights in Austria, despite my shocking behaviour. I went out, and when the clock struck 12 I ran to another bar, thinking I was safe amongst the crowds, but my brother found me and pulled me out of the crowd, up the stairs and out onto the road. If I remember correctly I think he had to drag me standing along the ice because I refused to move. I was relentless.

I got back to my hotel and my mom, brother and sister locked me in one of the hotel rooms for fear of me sneaking out. What was there to fear when I was safely locked in a hotel room… well I stumbled over to the window, opened it, and had a look to see how high above ground I was, I was high-ish but luckily there was a shed of some sort below. So with that I unzipped my cowboy boots and stupidly threw them on the roof of the shed/barn thing, see I didn’t want to make a boot-clap sound when I landed. (About 3 days later I had to climb back onto the barn to collect my ice-preserved boots, which were hard and almost crack-able). But now I would have to jump with no shoes which wouldn’t work out nicely at all so I put on some soft flat shoes and proceeded to jump onto the shed covered lightly in soft white snow. I had to cling onto the windowsill and plop off once my whole body was hanging out of it.

See now what I didn’t think about was the height from the shed to the ground. It took me a while to sort out a game plan. I decided not to put my boots back on, I would keep the soft flats, and with that I slid down a wooden pole that was holding the shed up. I landed on my bottom in a not so soft mound of snow. I got up, dusted off the excess ice and proceeded to walk down the road, rubbing what was soon to become a bruised bottom. I thought I was so clever, they thought I was locked in the room, not to have any fun, when actually I was trotting down the street laughing and smiling because I had outsmarted them. Then the thought popped into my head…  I don’t have a key…how the hell was I going to get back on the roof of the shed and back inside? The thought was short lived.

I went straight back to the club waited in the entry cue. I got to the front pouting and giggling like a complete fool in hopes that the bouncer would let me in again and he did and he said, “I don’t want trouble here,” or something on those lines. Arrogantly I assured him there wouldn’t be and he let me go in. I must have walked two feet when he called me back. I was about to repeat myself and say that he had nothing to worry about until I felt two hands grab each of my wrists. Two people pulling me out of the club again, my brother and my mom. And they basically frog marched me home, because, as much as I thought otherwise I couldn’t walk straight.

I was drunk off my mind. Absolutely wrecked, and as we got back to the hotel the fighting started. Everyone was crying, and shouting. I was shouting out that nobody cared and I was alone and I hated everyone and myself, my family shouting at me asking me what I was doing, why I was behaving in such a way, and saying I need to look at myself. I have never seen my mom weep like that, weep not cry but weep with complete desperation.  Desperate for me to just take control, desperate for me to stop saying such terrible things, and I suppose desperate for her child back, not this foul mouthed, drunken brat who had the nerve to say no one cared about her (Because if anyone was cared for in that family, It was me because I was the baby). I even remember my face being held up in front of the mirror at my bloodshot eyes, smeared makeup, greasy hair and bad skin. “Look at yourself Juliette! What are you doing?”   I hated the person I saw, I did, but at that time and that moment that was me and I couldn’t change it. The thought made me die inside.

I was put in my mom’s room; she locked us in and hid the key from me. I screamed and yelled and cried banging on the door, hating the fact that they wouldn’t let me do what I wanted to do which was go out. When in reality the safest place I could be was right there with my mom. I ran to the window again but this time, not to jump on a shed because there was no shed outside my mom’s window… this time the intention was just to jump, jump to an end. I pranced up and down the window ledge, I suppose trying to build up the confidence to jump. My mom never made a big deal over it she kept very calm, I think that’s what made me get back in the window, and she hugged me. I didn’t return it. I got into bed and started saying that she had no idea what happened, and she would never know. And apparently I went on about her not knowing what happened and not caring until I fell asleep. The next morning I was the last to come down for breakfast and my mom, sister and brother were all there waiting for me. Their faces were serious, not the usual happy joking faces I was used to seeing, not the faces that would slide a bread roll in front of me, wait for me to open it and find that they had stuffed it with fresh cigarettes as a practical joke indicating I smoked so much I ‘ate’ cigarettes. These were not those faces. It all came out on that morning, nearly 2 months of suppressing something I wanted no one to find out about, and it was one of the worst days I have experienced not to mention the sort of, innocence lost factor.

Then came the remnants of the night before…the corners of my eyes bruised from crying and constantly wiping the tears away with an angry force, my mom and brothers arms bruised from me pinching them to make them let me go, and my mom telling me what happened when I was trotting up and down the window ledge that I was saying, “I want to die, I want to be with dad. I’m going to jump. I want to die!” it was awful.

About 2 days later we left. Back to South Africa and we were all so grateful to get out and go home, to our home, away from people away from there. It was the worst holiday we have ever had, one we still call ‘the holiday from hell’.

After returning home, a doctor and a psychologist later, things seemed to settle down, I got a boyfriend and things ran smoothly for a year. But life is not a movie and the hole I thought I was crawling out of sunk in even further, allowing me to royally botch up a lot of friendships, my reputation and a person I once was.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Here is where the blog may get more exciting but that’s why I’m doing this so you can decide if you want to read further or you may well decide that what I write is actually horse shit and bores you to death. With that being said, this is what is on the cards in no particular order

Never Ever Have I Ever:

Proposed to someone. For real

Been the master of sneaking out and camel toes

Vomited in a handbag.

Passed out cold on a toilet

Fallen asleep in the dogs’ bed (more than once)

Had my name turned into a kind of verb. ‘Jube-drunk’ (not as fun as it sounds)

Fallen in a fire

Lit my hair on fire

Let another light my hair on fire

Urinated in my bed… in my early 20’s

Urinated in someone else’s bed

Been urinated on by some chop

Nearly been run over

Flashed on numerous occasions

Fell into walls, doors, off banisters and tables with no serious injuries most times keeping cigarettes alit and drink intact (this is not talent)

Had 9 lives and 90 personalities

Found glass a centimetre long wedged in my knee after a drunken weekend

Been arrested… twice, with a few other police run ins

Spent a night in jail, not one of my most fun moments

Wound up in the kitchen cleaning bar glasses and/or floors (numerous occasions pretty much inevitable)

Met people for the 1^st time EVERY weekend

Been more alone in a crowd than by myself

Been ‘that’ girl (not in a good way)

And more but all will lead into one another, and hopefully be of some kind of entertainment to those reading.

  

     

30 Hues of Black

This blog is probably be the most difficult I have had to write. It’s personal and brutally honest, but I did say in one of my first blogs that I am not a character, nor is this a novel. I have not modified stories for entertainment. I think the thought of writing this particular blog is the reason why I had such a huge gap between my blogs. I didn’t know quite how to get this one out and word it etc, but I’m going to word it as best as I can… This is a long one, so if you’re going to read it perhaps grab a snack or 3:

I was going to enter into my mad high school years but I thought about it and to be honest its nothing that we haven’t heard in terms of high school/ illegal drinking. In high school as I have said I just drank to give myself a little lift in terms of confidence, I felt pretty, happy and funny. Yes I did some stupid things, some wilder than others but I’m sure most of us did. I behaved in an obnoxious and arrogant way as oppose to my varsity years, where my drinking was amplified and my behaviour was on another level of crazy.

I was 18 and just about leaving school. What an amazing feeling. We all went on a holiday to celebrate. I had one week, then I was flying home for final assembly at school and the very same day I was going to fly back for another week so 2 weeks. After the second week I had to be home to go away with my family. The first half of the holiday was amazing, going away with your mates without your folks… I felt so grown up, off on my own, doing my own thing, waking up when I wanted, having no commitments and going to more than one club and staying out as late as I wanted, which was unheard of in school. As my mom would drop me off at one club and pick me up at 11pm sharp, sometimes I pushed it to 12pm, at a stretch.

Getting ready for the holiday nights out was marvellous; swopping clothes and jewellery, using each other’s perfumes, taking loads of stupid pictures… the usual girly things. Then going out and having an absolutely awesome night, waking up in the morning and getting ready for the beach while talking about the hilariousness of the night before. I’m referring to, possibly kissing the bouncer for free VIP entrance, dancing on speakers for a free bottle of champagne, giving someone a fake name and speaking in a British accent… the usual girls night out. It had been one of the best holidays I had ever had, but on about day 3 we were walking back to our hotel after quite a long day of strolling, and my ankle started to swell up, resembling a rather unattractive goitre type thing, I had a uni-kankle, if you will.

About a week before this holiday, back at home I went out the one night, I wasn’t suppose to come home, I was meant to sleep at a mate of mine. But I wanted to come home, so my friend who was a bartender at the club offered me a lift home. I got home but I had no gate opener, I knew this but I was going to find a way to get in regardless. I rang the bell a couple of times as I was sure someone would open (it was 5:30am), no one answered. Unfortunately my friend wasn’t driving, his friend was and he was getting seriously twitchy and quite angry that I wasn’t getting in. I told them to leave, and did they leave, wheels spinning and all. I would find a way in… and I certainly did…

I stood in my driveway for some time, staring at the electric fence and wondering how I was going to do this. My gate was slatted so it wasn’t one of those place your foot in a hole and pull yourself up and over. Well look I did try that but I kept sliding down the slats (not ideal). I was getting quite inpatient and passers by were quite intrigued with what I was doing. After many attempts at the gate, and trying to lift my leg high enough to put in the post box as a base to push off, I spotted a tree in the next-door plot. The tree was right next to my wall and right at the gate pretty much. So yes, I threw my handbag and horrible shiny silver heels over the gate and I started to climb the tree.

The tree was not exactly against the wall so I had to stretch somewhat. I was stupid enough or rather crazy and not thinking, but I touched the electric fence to see if it worked, and was in luck because it wasn’t on. So In mid hoist onto the wall I heard the garage opening. We had a long driveway the garage was at the top but I heard it so I waited, half in the tree half on the wall. Then I saw my step father’s car driving down and jumped back fully into the tree, I was basically dangling from the highest branch. He was on his way to work. The car stopped, the door opened, there were some footsteps that disappeared, I waited, the foot steps returned the door closed, gate opened and I watched the roof of the car as it pulled out the gate. I couldn’t breath. I was so scared. I still wonder what the gardener opposite the road thought as he was watching me the whole time amazed at my sheer agility.

So now that the fence was off, the car was gone, so I climbed back onto the wall. I had to place each hand and foot over opposite sides of the fence because the wall was pretty narrow and I needed all the grounding I could get. So I crawled along the wall for about 40 meters until I was near-ish to the house. Now I had to jump, I considered hanging on the wall and dropping down but the wall being as narrow as it was and having the fence there made it super tricky so I had to get as low as possible and just jump. And… I did. Landing on my one foot first, hitting it with quite a bit of impact, the other foot followed, then I fell forward completely. I started laughing from the pain and I suppose the situation. I looked down the drive way for my shoes and bag, they had disappeared. My stepfather had them… now I was really in for it.

Never the less I limped up to the house, and eventually into my room, my ankle was so sore. As I got into comfy clothes my mother walked in and was furious. How did you get home? Where have you been? Why are you falling all over the place? And she stormed out. I was in so much pain I just got into bed. I left my ankle and never told my mom about it. That evening the bag and shoe story came up at dinner, I explained what happened and neither of them were impressed. Although now, the story is a fond favourite at dinner parties.

So there the kankle story starts. So after walking all day with my swollen ankle, I just left it still, then it got unbearable in the late afternoon and I went to see a doctor… long story short I ended up getting crutches. That night I got dressed up and went out with my crutches, on arrival one guy said, "Die Hard hey?" (I didn’t realize how much that name would eventually define me.) Cool thing about crutches, people let you to the front of the cue, crap thing, guys get drunk and think it’s hilarious to throw the crutches across the club. True story. I got bored of the crutches I wanted to dance and have a party so I would leave them behind the bar, hobble to the dance area, and just sort of stomp with my good foot to the beat. What a dork.

I stopped with the crutches altogether they were just a hindrance actually, I just walk/limped lightly and I carried on with my ‘good foot stomp’ at the clubs. Finally I even attempted heels, this was the second last night of the holiday and it was going to be great. I felt good about myself, I felt glamorous.

Well the pictures don’t show what I felt I wore way too much bronzer and shimmer powder. I learnt about the t-zone of the face from magazines, something about powdering them or defining them or what ever so I put shimmer all over my forehead, nose and chin. Then I read about defining cheekbones with shimmer, so I did that too. My friends called me ‘TIN MAN’ because that’s what I looked like, slightly more fake-tanned but same idea. I really only have myself to blame and my dyslexia and… teen magazines, of course.

So I was at the club, feeling good, and across the bar I saw a guy I had recently met. I went up to say hello and we were chatting and had a few drinks. I don’t remember exactly the step-by-step in terms of how it all happened but I went back to his flat with the impression that there was a house party thing happening there. I have never been academically clever but I do have my wits about me but after a few drinks I turn naïve. I trust everyone and their word I still am a bit like this, if I ask a friend if they have done something and they say no, I believe them regardless of about 10 other people saying otherwise. So I believed all was ok, all was safe and fairytaley…

I was stupid enough to think people were still going to come, but as we sat and waited we kissed. One thing led to another, and it was about to go further than I wanted. I don’t know if it was selective hearing but ‘no’ and ‘please’ and ‘stop’ were not being heard. I was physically not strong enough to do anything. Silently crying, I waited for him to fall asleep. Then I got up, opened the door, and now I don’t remember exactly where I was or how I got out, iv blocked this from my mind for 5 years but I just walked. I put my heels in my bag and walked. I eventually by some miracle found a hotel I knew my friend was staying in. I wiped my eyes and started running I didn’t care that my feet were taking a grating from the tar. I ran up to the front desk and asked the manager for her room. He wouldn’t let me go upstairs he said he would phone her room, this was at about 5-6am. I got through, and as he watched me the only thing I could say to her to sound seemingly realistic when she picked up, the only thing I could think of at the time was, "are you ok?" and I burst out crying. Maybe because I was desperate for him to ask me the same question, I don’t know. I put the phone down and said I’m sorry my friend is really sick please can you let me go up and see her. He wouldn’t. I begged and pleaded. But who could blame him actually; I must have looked like a tramp. So I walked out of the hotel again and the tears just kept rolling.

Eventually I reached the shopping centre where the club I went to the previous night was. I needed money to get a taxi back to my hotel, which was far away. So I started for the ATM and heard my name being called. It was the bartenders from the club; I had been going to the same club every night so they knew me. I turned around and saw them running towards me. I tried to look happy but the mascara down my face must have suggested otherwise. They offered me a lift home and I said no ill get a taxi its too far. But they knew something was wrong, and they said they didn’t care how far it was they would be happy to help. The drive was silent, I didn’t want to speak, I just thanked them when I got home I don’t think they knew what to say either.

I sat outside my room for a while because I didn’t want to wake my two friends up, but then I couldn’t take it I had to speak to someone. And I opened the door, my one friend was there with her boyfriend, they were still awake, my other friend was at her boyfriend’s house. I started crying again and asked if I could speak with her, she thought I was laughing, I don’t blame her, that is what I would probably normally do, come home in the early hours of the morning with a ridiculous story about dancing and becoming best friends with a homeless person, kissing the boy iv had a crush on since I was 4 or whatever. But as soon as she got outside she knew too. Everything wasn’t all right. When my other friend came home I told her too. All I could think about was a shower; it was all I wanted to do. I felt filthy. I showered and they discussed, as I got out they said they were going to get me some stuff and did they get me stuff.

Its funny because when you are 18 you feel so old, but when I look at 18 year olds now, they are actually so young, still maturing somewhat. But I think back now and my friends who were 18 handled it with a level of maturity I cannot even express. They were gone for about two hours, in that time I showered again. They returned with anxiety tablets, shock tablets, ARV’s, you name it they had it. They even brought me a sugary drink for the shock, and despite my OCD dieting habits I drank it down. They told me what I was going to do and said everything was going to be ok. I have never known to people to act in such an efficient and mature way. I felt safe.

That day I spoke to a mutual friends boyfriend who was a policeman, I didn’t want to tell anyone but I was advised to. So I did. He said if I took it to the police I would just be another case or if I took it to court for that matter I would lose. So that was the end of that. I was going home the next day and in my mind I had already decided to miss the flight, I didn’t know how I was going to face people my mom especially. So that night I don’t know what was going through my head but I went out, got horribly drunk, horribly. My friends messaged me and said they were leaving for the airport, I replied and said I’m missing the flight, I lied and said I couldn’t find a taxi, but in truth I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to tell anyone; at the same time I didn’t know how I was going to act like nothing happened so I missed the flight. I landed up on the beach swimming in my clothes with a group of random girls who were praising me for being such a legend and missing my flight. Little did they know.

At about 10am I got a call from my mother, she was absolutely furious and who could blame her, I had wasted that ticket money and for what. I told her the same taxi story she wasn’t buying it she booked me on the earliest flight home. At the airport I had never felt so numb… the ticket woman asked me if I had just got out of hospital because I look so pale and weak. That made me feel even worse. I don’t really remember what happened when I got home that’s a bit of a blur, but I do know that when this news of me missing my flight came out, parents were talking and saying that I was reckless and irresponsible and that they didn’t want their children associated with me. Again who could blame them. So I was suppose to fly back and have another week but obviously that was completely out of the question. So I had missed my final school assembly, wasted two plane tickets and was scared shitless.

I stayed in bed for 2 days straight telling my mom I was just exhausted. And on the third morning I was woken up by my two best friends they told me that they were taking me to breakfast so I got ready and we left. Later I found out we were not going for breakfast. They took me to a psychologist, at first I resisted I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I ended up talking and what a release it was, she told me which steps I should take from there and what to do. Then we did go to breakfast after all, and I have never felt such support from friends as I did that day. But I was still not going to tell my family I was going to keep it to myself.

When I eventually did tell my mom about what happened I was taken to doctors, I was taken for tests. I had a pregnancy test, HIV, and STD screening. Thank God I wasn’t pregnant, thank God I wasn’t HIV positive, I never contracted syphilis or anything serious but the tests did show two diseases. Neither were fatal, neither showed symptoms, both were easily treatable but one if not treated early would render a female infertile. I have never been so relieved because I had planned to keep this a secret for as long as I could.

But before I told my mom and my family, the month and a half between the time it happened and the time I told my mom was Christmas holidays. It was a holiday from hell. Nearly 2 months of keeping silent. Nearly two months of trying to suppress the memory. It was absolute hell. But I will write about that in the next blog.

'We are all on drugs.'

Before people throw their arms up about the title of this blog, it is just a song title by Weezer. I’m not implying that we are all crazed heroin addicts, I just thought it fitting as this blog is about alcohol which is a legal DRUG. A drug that the majority of the world uses and sometimes abuses… So we, well most of us drink/drank… therefore we are all on drugs. Silly? Possibly. Clever… questionable. Either way, here we go.

Addiction: "an urge to do something that is HARD to control or stop. May Hurt or kill you."

I thought if I am going to go into talking about alcohol and abuse thereof, I thought it would be interesting if I put things in perspective. Speaking about the effects of alcohol on the brain and body, alcohol as a drug and a suppressant. I will also have a look at Alcoholics anonymous checklist, purely for interest sake. This blog will be mainly research based, but I hope you all find it interesting, as it will relate to the following blogs.

Why do we drink? Makes us happy, confident, feel superior, excited… how bloody marvellous. This is obviously healthy drinking or I would say acceptable drinking. On the other hand we wake up hating ourselves after a big night because we just feel like death… depressed and possibly paranoid about what happened when we were drunk.

Alcohol is the simplest psychoactive chemical that produces highly complex effects on the brain and body. What alcohol does is change the neurons’ membrane, it effects the gamma-amino butyric acid or GABA (regulates excitability and muscle tone) system which is involved in producing the quieting of the brain and has the power to temporarily reduce worry and tension. It is one of the brains main neurotransmitters that are involved in inhibition of stimulation. The system blocks anxiety and panic.

The effects of alcohol vary depending on amount consumed (obviously), and may be reversed with chronic alcohol use. It affects the dopamine (movement and emotion), nor epinephrine (attention and response) and serotonin (regulates mood and sleep) neurotransmitter systems in the brain. Because it is so rapidly metabolized in the body, there are withdrawal effects, which are the opposite of the initial intoxication. In other words when you start drinking, after a few glasses of wine you may feel a little dopey and lethargic, you feel happy, relaxed and maybe excited. Although alcohol has a similar effect on the brain as the GABA system, reducing anxiety the alcohol withdrawal is the opposite, and this withdrawal cause things such as epileptic seizures, paranoia, agitation and… insomnia.

I think most of us have experienced this. When you go to a music festival, have a fairly large weekend or super huge night, the following night you have trouble sleeping. So basically your body is in an alcohol withdrawal… Boom, ‘DEMONS’ explained.

Alcohol is a DRUG that causes depression, and allows for us to feel relaxed and let go of our inhibitions. The first thing alcohol affects is higher functions of the brain. These would be managing self-observation and self-criticism. Drinkers feel relaxed and free and often say and do things that later they find embarrassing. People sometimes release anger after small doses of alcohol and this is obviously magnified as more alcohol is consumed. When alcohol produces a change in mood and behaviours including anger and irritability, this is a sign of alcohol abuse. It is one of the safest and the most harm-producing intoxicant.

We all know effects of alcohol, passing out or blacking out vomiting and not remembering anything. But it also leads to liver damage, internal bleeding and may lead to brain damage. Alcohol if consumed in really large doses can cause death that is why it is actually good to vomit if you have drunken too much, or to force someone to vomit because you can actually save a life. This is obviously in severe cases where a person has a large amount of alcohol in their system, alcohol overdose.

Alcohol depresses the brain and slows down its ability to control the body and mind. This is why it is potentially dangerous, we all know this… UDI’s, Losers, memory loss, those regretted smooches you know the drill. It acts as a sedative and slows down co-ordination, reflexes, movement and speech. (I’m sure a couple of us have tried to throw thing or two to friends and they either miss it completely or don’t even realize something is coming towards them until the box of cigarettes or whatever has hit them square in the face.) Drinking alcohol in abundance may slow down the breathing and heart rate to such a level that the heart may potentially stop altogether.

This is purely for interest but here is the Alcoholics Anonymous 12 questions checklist:

1. Have you ever decided to stop drinking for a week or so, but only lasted for a couple of days?
2. Do you wish people would mind their own business about your drinking- stop telling you what to do?

3. Have you ever switched from one kind of drink to another in the hope that this would keep you from getting drunk?

4. Have you had to have an eye-opener upon wakening during the past year? A drink to get you going, stop the shakes…

5. Do you envy people who can drink without getting into trouble?

6. Have you had problems connected with drinking during the past year? Be honest.

7. Has your drinking caused trouble at home?

8. Do you ever try to get "extra" drinks at a party because you do not get enough? (pre-drinking, double parking)

9. Do you tell yourself you can stop drinking any time you want to, even though you keep getting drunk when you don’t mean to? (when you start drinking, you cant stop)                    10. Have you missed days of work or school because of drinking? (called
          in sick due to a hang-over)
        
         11. Do you have "blackouts"? memory loss.
        
         12. Have you ever felt that your life would be better if you didn’t drink?

If you answered yes to 4 or more questions you probably have a problem with alcohol. This is according to AA. There are more articles where people have said, "I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a student." Whatever you think, each to their own of course, but I just thought this was quite interesting.

I don’t want to harp on too much more about alcohol because I go off on a tangent, but if there is an interest from readers I will do more research on it, but here are a couple of facts about alcohol to round up:

1.) Coffee, showers, fresh air, does not sober a person up. Time does, you need to wait for the alcohol to leave your system for you to sober up.

2.) There are no ‘different alcohols’ all drinks contain ethanol or ethyl alcohol which is our drinking alcohol. People sometimes say the type of alcohol affects your mood. All drinks contain the same alcohol so it’s your mind that affects your mood chaps. And the more drinks you have the more readily the emotions come out.

3.) Men process alcohol more rapidly than women.

4.) The level of alcohol in your blood rises quicker when you drink spirits as oppose to beer. So if you drink spirits before beer you are likely to feel the effects sooner and possibly drink less. If you drink beer before spirits you may feel little effect on the body that may encourage you to order shots or harder drinks to feel an effect.

5.) It is not a ‘different’ alcohol that causes different hangovers. "I had a gin hangover." It is the compounds in the drinks called congeners (impurities produced during fermentation, also responsible for taste, aroma and colour of drinks) these alter your hangover in conjunction with dehydration caused by the alcohol. Clear drinks; white wine, gin, vodka contain less congeners than dark drinks; red wine, brandy, whiskey and rum. The more congeners consumed the worse the hangover will be. Combining these congeners/impurities will result in a more severe hangover.

6.) Drinking different drinks, mixing drinks gets you drunk. This is not the case. All drinks contain the same alcohol as explained above. It is drinking a large amount of alcohol in a short period of time. Everyone says cocktails get you drunk because of the mixture of alcohol, wrong, it is because you may be drinking about 4 units of alcohol in half an hour as oppose to 1 unit in one hour, which is considered, ‘normal’ drinking. The liver can only process one standard drink an hour, glass of wine, one beer, if you drink over this, such as the cocktail, it remains in the blood stream and body tissues until the liver can process the excess alcohol. Hence why we stay drunk for a while even after we have stopped drinking.

7.) Alcohol is addictive

8.) And lastly… Alcoholism is hereditary.

From my own experience I can say that on more than one occasion, in fact too many occasions, I have been so drunk that the level of alcohol in my body was a step away from me going into a coma and two steps away from death… true story. I never realized it at the time and when I found out it certainly put things in perspective but that will come up in a following blog.

　
This information was taken from, Alcoholics anonymous website.
The book by; Robert, L. Dupont and Betty Ford. The Selfish Brain: Learning from addiction.
Harvard Medical School website.

Self-Loathing

Self-loathing, we are all guilty of it. We are never 100% happy with ourselves. Always comparing ourselves to others, am I prettier? am I thinner? Am I funnier? Am I cleverer than so and so.

As silly as it sounds we need to learn to love ourselves. There is no one like you, you’re unique, isn’t that awesome?

Difficult concept to get the mind around. We are so worried about what other people think, we don’t judge ourselves on what we do but rather from the evaluation others give us, which turns into a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. And lets face it, no one is loved by everyone, its impossible. We put our focus on our failures and not our success that is actually so sad. I firmly believe in the idea of, how can anyone else love and respect you when you do not love and respect yourself?

And this is what I am guilty of. Ever since my dad passed away, I have hated myself, hated my behaviour, and had absolutely no respect for the person who I was. I lost all ambition. This is rather gross, but females will know this trick: putting baby powder into your hair when there is no time to wash and dry it, allowing your hair to look clean without the time consuming washing, drying straightening process. I was in matric or grade 11 I cant remember, and I did not wash my hair for I don’t know how long. I used the baby powder to make it look clean, which is a great trick for once off, NOT for a month, pushing two. That’s just gross!

I don’t know why I did it. Everyday more and more powder. When I ran out of baby powder, now brace yourself, I resorted to flour, as in baking flour. I didn’t think anything of it until a friend, on hearing I put flour in my hair, told me with a disgusted look that flour is food, and proceeded to ask if I had animals in my hair. Funny yes, but could have actually had been true if I carried on flouring my hair. And because I smoked, my hair smelt like stale smoke. Trashy yes? In addition to that I felt nothing wearing my self-tan stained uniform over and over, I didn’t care. I insisted on wearing my shortest dresses, belt never included. I had the belts and would purposely take them off the dress before school, just because. I wore the wrong earrings and hair ties, school jersey usually pushed over one shoulder with my collar popped ever so slightly. Bear in mind I went to a private school that prided itself on the perfection of the pupils. So I think it was rebellion. I had a strong belief that the system was corrupt and selfish, and they only really cared if you were in a first team or fashioned an academic blazer. I felt I never really fitted the mould as I settled for 50’s and played 4<sup>th   team hockey. I didn’t enjoy my last few years of school which I think is really tragic.

I didn’t respect myself much or take much pride in my appearance which one me a few sittings in the headmistresses office. Often teachers would pull me aside and tell me to wash my hair, clean my face, lengthen my skirt, and still I didn’t care. My sister was the head girl of my school a few years before and I think I tried to show them that I was different. The more they told me not to do something the more I did it. I really just wanted to piss them off cause they irritated me. As mentioned in previous blogs, one teacher said I was going to fail matric so I might as well stop trying. In fact since I entered high school I felt pretty stupid, not many of the teachers liked me from the word go, and no one really wanted to help when I didn’t understand.

I think back to junior school, I was never naughty I was just forgetful and lazy and would rather have a detention or 5 than hand in a half finished science-space project, or worse…class sports. I was the first 8 year old to get a detention in the class, and I remember thinking I was quiet hectic. All the girls who were at after care watched me and asked me why I was there, what I was doing. It was quite funny, kind of like a, "wot you in for?" kind of thing. I felt badass.

When I was 6, I was one of three girls caught drinking beer in grade 1. A friend of mine said her domestic worker packed a beer instead of her juice. Now she would be the Regina, from Mean Girls. She insisted we try it. It was foreign beer so the bottle was a dark blue (easy mistake). But we all analysed the bottle and knew we were doing a naughty thing, but we did it anyway. Hid under the desks and all took turns. To this day I do not know how anyone found out but all three of us, at the tender age of 6 having sipped the foam off the top of the bottle, were called into the headmistresses office and interrogated.

I won another visit to the headmistress’s office when I told a girl I would cut her a fringe. I did. It was really lovely, real short, like the end of a broom stuck to her forehead. But after grade 4 the detentions rolled in, as I said I never did anything bad, it was for an unsigned homework diary or what ever. The only few accomplishments I made in school were vice head of house, for a term, so like 2/3 months, I got to play a windmill and a camel, where there were about 20 odd windmills, and the camels featured for about a minute. Now picture this, I was as big as a house, so the camel suit just happened to be, the same material as stockings in a full piece suit. A shear, nylon, one-piece…beige. Stunning. And my best one was I won a prize for a poem I wrote:

There once was a boy called Ben.

Who liked a little girl called Jen.

Ben gave her a kiss,

Jen said, "siss."

And they never saw each other again.

One accomplishment I didn’t make was getting into grade 0. I failed my entrance exam. Now the night before the exam, my brother and sister had got me fully prepped. They made sure I knew everyone’s names, my home address, my telephone number the works but they had no idea what was coming…

I was handed a marshmallow. The woman told me to place the marshmallow on the left of the chair, the right of the chair, underneath the chair and on top of the chair… well I popped that marshmallow straight in my mouth, and would have to try again next year. I would have to try again next year. This is the slogan that I have lived with up to this day.

I was never negative as a little girl, I saw good in everything. And in high school I just saw the bad in everything. I hated my image, my results, my weight, my life. I had a mental block, I would never work hard because I believed no matter how hard I worked I would still come out below average. I think I just though of myself as a below average person, with a cruddy personality and nothing much to offer. I hated myself.

When I started drinking alcohol this hatred grew, not while I was drinking but the days that followed. I would get so angry with myself, I would hit or rather beat myself in the face, shouting repeatedly, "stupid/selfish/pig/worthless," or what ever other word was fitting for the time. I did this till I actually formed a bruise on my face. I told everyone I knocked into the corner of my shelf or the more believable one, that I was dancing in the club and a big buy was dancing next to me and by mistake elbowed me right in the eye. This sounds utterly mad, but this was the person I was.

Alcohol became my numbing cream, as it does with alcoholics and actually people in general. We have all heard of the, "nothing better than a glass of wine to take the edge off." I wouldn’t say that in high school I drank like an alcoholic, I just drank too much for a girl that age. I drank to be noticed, to have the courage to do the outrageous, the things others wouldn’t dare do; take copious amounts of shots, drink straight vodka, be the chick that was just so hardcore and too cool. (right drinking straight vodka and lots of shots may sound completely acceptable, and yes, fine it is. But not when you’re a young girl in grade 10/11)

Here we go, it was my 16 birthday, it was a combined birthday with my friend. We had been planning guest lists months in advance and we spoke about it in maths everyday. Who we spoke to last night, who said they were coming, counting the boys and girls lists and saying how mad it was going to be. And it was, it was a lot of fun. But after the chilled house party we went out to a club, excited and expecting the best night ever. I was after a boy who I though was utterly delicious. He was at our party and at the club he sat next to me on the couch. In front of us was an ice bucket with a bottle of gold tequila staring at me in the face. I was a little tipsy on ciders, and I felt really pretty, I was excited. And this boy who I had liked for a while was actually taking to me, he was actually interested, he sat with me instead of dancing with his friends. So I thought I needed to up my confidence and make him think I was really cool. I grabbed the tequila and a champagne glass, filled it once downed it and filled it again, then proceeded to offer it to the people around us. They of course were wise enough to know that a flute of tequila is not a good idea, at any time. The rest of the night I was passed out on the couch. When we were leaving the boy helped me up, and typical, I said leave me I can do it myself. He let me go, and as he did my legs gave way and I fell flat on the concrete. Hitting the side of my head, I was a dead weight. People thought I was concussed. They carried me out, basically foaming at the mouth and I was driven home to my friend’s house. In the middle I needed to go to the toilet, I got up, barely able to walk, stumbled into the bathroom, slipped on the bathmat, into the shower. Luckily I didn’t fall through the shower and was able to push myself off the glass to standing, where I slipped again and face planted into the ceramic basin, scraping the gum of my top front teeth of and chipping my front tooth slightly.

Needless to say the next day I felt like death. I was embarrassed. My mom picked me up and asked if I was eating chocolate, I was so confused and said no why, and she said oh you have black stuff in your teeth. The black stuff was dried blood. I ignored the question and changed the subject. That day I got a message from that boy, he asked me how I was feeling and said he wished I had never got so drunk because he wanted to kiss me. I wanted to kick myself. Unfortunately with this incident I don’t think I hit my head hard enough, in terms of knocking some sense into it.</sup>

Sometimes A Mother Doesn't Know The Answer

I thought it was all good to speak from my experience but that gives a narrow perception. I asked my mother to write about her experience of my eating and weight, from what she can remember and beginning of the alcohol dependence. This too, like my other blogs has not been altered, I asked her to be honest and just write so here it is:

*************************************************************************************************************************


Juliette is 6- round gap toothed, with a lisp, and a head full of curls- like a tumbleweed- her dad’s name for her, but very round.

7 years old, still fun, still round- I am starting to be concerned. Jule could finish a large pizza and still have, "space for a chicco the clown ice-cream after dinner."

Guy her dad is concerned. He was fat as a child and mocked relentlessly. Beachball and moon face were names he had to deal with! Jules only mentioned 2 instances when people were cruel to her about her weight, but I know, because I am a mom that there were many other stories.

How does a parent deal with a child who has been humiliated by other adults in front of her peers, and try to build up self-confidence???

I have never seen such a small person put up such a brave front, and pull herself through such difficult and embarrassing situations; trying to wear trendy clothes, bikinis, the latest hairstyle- all totally unsuitable for her size and weight. My heart broke so many times and I cried so much for her.

In my wisdom I started her at a dietician who weighed her and encouraged her and me with new recipes and tricks to make her lunch boxes interesting- what?

Jules had a salad everyday, she must have gone mad, even the teddy bear serviette at the bottom of the lunchbox must have irritated her!

Once she swapped her salad: no problem mom it was also a salad! Oh good darling what salad- potatoes, mayo and egg mom, so delicious!

I hated that people noticed that she was overweight and had a huge appetite. I felt it reflected on me and how ineffectual as a mother I was. I had to hide any treats I brought for Nick and Gina so that Jule couldn’t find them- no chance.

I took her out of desperation to the doctor who actually said to me, "Mals watch this little person; she is a prime candidate for an eating disorder- what??? Not my child- why???

By standard 5 or grade 7, Jule weighed 72kgs, I was frantic and so was Guy- but he couldn’t deal with it- he was a fat kid and did not want her to be. I prayed so much for her, even telling her to imagine a little angel sitting on her shoulder, encouraging her to resist any edible temptations. She flicked that angel right off her shoulder… literally.

In March 2002 on the 23<sup>rd, Guy was away in the bush with some friends when he suffered a major heart attack. He died with some dear friends around him but far away from his family. It was devastating and completely unexpected. This larger than life human being was gone forever.

Losing her dad at such a vulnerable age sent Juliette on a path so dark and painful. Grief is a very long, personal and lonely road; there is no pill or band-aid big enough and I was heart broken for myself and aching for my 3 children. I turned to food for comfort and so did Juliette. We were inseparable- Nick and Gina her siblings went back to Cape Town to finish their degrees and Jubes was the centre of my focus.

The furthest thing on my mind was dieting.

In 2003 Jubes was with a friend and met a woman who was promoting a diet called lean for life. Juliette was intrigued and asked me to buy the book and the various vitamins, protein bars etc that went with it. I did it willingly and Juliette set her mind to it and the weight started shifting as it had never done before. We were beside ourselves with excitement.

Clothes shopping was no longer a nightmare and Juliette single mindedly and rigidly stuck to her eating plan. At this time she learnt another lesson: a fat friend is a safe friend, a thin friend is a threat!!

I was so happy to see her losing weight and apparently gaining confidence. I did not notice the darker signs creeping in!

In 2004 I remarried and naturally and understandably the children on both sides were very stressed. Because Juliette lived at home still, she of course was with us all the time and she was extremely difficult and resentful to Tony (husband).

She continued her diet but had now added some new sidelines to it! anything she read about speeding up metabolism, flushing out your system etc, she did. Our coffee consumption trebled, she exercised frantically and eventually started on the herbal tea.

2005 she begged to go to boarding school and against my better judgement I allowed it. She had started on her course of trying to be accepted, she had lost weight, she always had to be funny, she had to look pretty- always searching- always running from herself in an attempt to feel better.

Boarding school was a mistake! She was anxious about the food- either binging or starving and the herbal/medicinal tea her beverage of choice. I know too she was very homesick and the weekends were a nightmare- and at this very lonely.

I was beside myself with anxiety torn between wanting her to realize that she had embarked on this boarding school mission and knowing that I really wanted her home.

6 months into the year we went to Granny in Durban for the weekend and she took me aside and urged me to take Jule out of boarding school and back home- what a wise piece of advice and one that I followed. On the way home, car packed and in high spirits we drove out of the school gates and that is when I noticed the scratches on Jules arm. She told me she ran past a girl in home-ec who was holding a grater and had grazed herself, and I fell for it!!! Unbelievable I know, but I was not sure I wanted to believe the truth.

Back at home Jule was getting thinner and thinner but still binging at times- I was still in denial.

One hot morning I got a call from school, "please can you come, Juliette has collapsed. Bring some clean clothes, she has soiled herself." I was beside myself. I tore up to the school, shaking to fetch my skinny, pale, shaky child with eyes like saucers and shivering.

We went straight to the doctor and then onto the neurologist where she underwent every imaginable test, EEG etc. I never stopped praying for all my children but I was terrified at this point. None of the tests were conclusive so we just bumbled on as before.

One day our housekeeper came to me with a whole pile of laxative wrappers. I had never heard of them, but suddenly Jule’s haunted skinny look, all made sense. She was hooked on laxatives. The way they made her feel purged.

When I look at photos of her at her std 9/grade 11 dance- I cant believe what I missed. She was pale, gaunt and her pupils were so large. She was terrified of eating carbohydrates, but the laxatives were like a ticket to binge.

We started on a rollercoaster of psychologists and therapy a very painful journey trying to find the right people and in the meantime dealing with the ongoing addiction.

On one frightening occasion she collapsed after having who knows how many laxatives and she just clung to me crying and saying, "Mommy I am sick. Please help me," words that can cut into a mom’s heart like a blunt teaspoon, it was so painful.

I am not sure when the drinking started, I think probably at the end of standard 9 going into matric. That period in my life is like a blur.

Seeing my child’s unhappiness at school, and her difficulty with Tony etc, was a nightmare. Tony was very aware of eating disorders and all that goes with it, having dealt with it in his own life and I think Juliette knew this and was a little wary of him because he was onto her and knew all the deviousness of people with these disorders.

Alcohol was just another way out of facing up to unresolved grief, and self-acceptance and Juliette embraced it with gusto.

I am not going to enlarge on this period except to say it tore our family apart. We; Nick, Gina and myself were beside ourselves. She could never say no and never knew when to stop. She wanted to be the life and soul of every party, she wanted everyone to come home to our house and party till dawn. Her behaviour was frightening and unacceptable.</sup>

My Liquid Crutch

This blog, as a whole may come across as having a self-pitying, ‘poor me’ nature about it, but this is not my intention. I want to voice my feelings and problems and put them out there with no remorse and no fear and as idealistic as this may sound, I feel it may help people in knowing that they are not alone, that there are ways around a problem, and they are not the so-called problem.

There is a saying, "you are your own problem and you’re your own solution." I do not know who said this but I do know it was in the movie Bridesmaids, but that’s not the point. Some people say these are wise words, wise? I don’t think so, motivational? Maybe…I think it’s quite simply, ridiculous. Yes some people surround themselves with drama and create issues for no particular reason, in my opinion they are bored as all hell, and need something to complain about because in truth, their life is actually not that bad. Why would we want to make our own problems? Creating problems that don’t exist? Why would we want to torture ourselves like that, drop ourselves into a deep and seemingly endless depression?

In terms of that quotation, I’m not talking about little problems that are usually self-imposed, I’m talking about the ones we actually have no control over; a sick parent, a sick sibling, death of a parent or sibling, being bullied at school or at work, these problems we do not cause ourselves, we do not want them or ask for them, they are given to us by fate, destiny, God or the universe, which ever you believe in. From these problems spiral webs of smaller problems which get bigger and usually completely out of control if they are not attended to.

I’m sure many people have witnessed this with a friend, a parent, or even a movie, but an example of this spiralling is alcoholism. A little problem is helped with a glass or two of wine, which turns into a bottle or two of wine, to perhaps a box or two of wine (Silly example but I think that sums it up). Many young people, I’m talking high school and early varsity students, think alcoholism is a joke, getting drunk is cool, and if you’re the drunkest you’re a legend. I know I thought that, I was that girl, the drunkest at the party ALWAYS.

Alcoholism is an illness.

I have been living off ‘crutches’; comfort food, restricting food, exercise, nicotine and eventually alcohol. My drinking started off as a confidence enhancer, so to speak, and resulted in me destroying my relationships, severely hurting my family, humiliating myself at any chance I got (unintentionally), and making close to a decade of my life and memories an alcoholic blur.

This may sound hideously clichéd but the song ‘somebody that I used to know’ by Gotye has a lyric, "you can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness," to me this lyric sums up the problem. You can get addicted to sadness, you cannot get out and it can kill you emotionally. I like to think of it as giving up smoking, you so desperately want to stop and break free but just cant, but then there are those ones that do, they build up the strength to just break out of it, some more easily than others.

At the top of the blogsite it reads "do you ever look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re still there," it was taken from an Arctic Monkeys lyric, "do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there." Because honestly I don’t know how many times I looked into the mirror either still drunk the morning after a big night, when I was drunk out or came home drunk, I would look into the mirror and not really like what or who I saw, I didn’t know that person, but they were apart of me and some people knew me as that drunk mess in the mirror. I hear stories of my behaviour when I was drunk and I die inside, that sinking feeling of absolute shame. I had no control over what I did, which may sound like a poor excuse but its true. My level of drunkenness was not that of tipsy mistakes but rather of fatal drinking. My tipsy was another persons ‘smashed’. When I look back now it, it feels like I did have a split personality (I didn’t/don’t). I completely switched when I was drunk, I was; aggressive, obnoxious, violent, cruel, annoying and at some points, I had thoughts of suicide.

This is merely an introduction to a whole load of stories, which are humorous, shocking, sad and just scary.

A Dangerous Sacrifice

When it comes to bulimia, I see it as similar to the ‘art’ of smuggling. You know you’re doing something that is wrong, you’re scared of being caught but will stop at nothing to feel the benefits of the act. But when you get caught, your resources are cut off and it becomes much harder to implement.

I was caught vomiting countless times. And my excuse ranged from, me saying I had a headache, or the food was too rich or that I just felt sick. My excuses ran out, and what ever I told my mom or whoever was concerned, they knew I was lying. People knew I was bulimic and I kept trying to deny it, but eventually I was just exhausted. I was tired of psychologists, and seeing as though I had three at one time, I would have to repeat the same story three times. Except for that one psychologist who tried to stop herself from yawning but I could see she wanted to as her nostrils grew bigger and her lips grew longer. I didn’t really talk in her sessions. And then the psychologist who had a beige walled office, beige picture frames, beige chair and couches, beige clothes and a really beige personality, she was a real treat.

Because I was under so much surveillance, and I could see I was damaging my mother physically and emotionally. It became too hard to keep up with bulimia. It was like a job, I had to be dedicated and committed and willing to do whatever it took to benefit. But I noticed my whole life was slowly crumbling, as I said I was destroying my family, getting help from every sector and not taking it, and my academics dropped drastically. Look I was never going to be the Dux Scholar, but I was bright, I was just lazy as all hell. But my main focus was on my weight and it had to stop.

I spent every second break time in my biology teacher’s classroom; writing out the path of a blood cell or the path of lipids during digestion, each 10 times. One of the English teachers who I never really liked, told me I was stupid and the biology teacher said I was going to fail matric so I might as well give up now because I am ‘NOWHERE!’ so school as you can imagine, was a really motivational and inspiring space for me. I cried after school basically everyday because I had been labelled as less than average, and in my mind I told myself I couldn’t do the work because I wasn’t smart enough. Scary how much teachers impact our lives and lead us into a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure or a feeling of worthlessness.

I wanted to prove them wrong, along with some of the girls, who never took what I said in class seriously and who thought I was actually stupid. I tried really hard to eat healthily, I did go to gym everyday but I was eventually back on track and eating properly. I felt good and confident after having no ambition, no drive to do anything vaguely challenging. I was ready and I was going to make a change in my life. This could have also come from me not vomiting up the anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills I was taking along with my food.

I think the digestion of pills, did make a difference I wasn’t so unhappy with myself or my image. I became less secretive and my childhood bubbly-ness shone, only a little but still, for the first time in 4 years. That wasn’t the only thing that started to shine. When I went out on the weekend, I wasn’t vomiting, or taking laxatives, so alcohol started to take its effect. I was so desperate for social attention I would indulge in alcohol, (now I’m talking 2 ciders and a tequila) and it would result in me becoming the most hilarious girl that night, I wasn’t shy and I could talk to anyone, it was marvellous. I was that girl who would be dared to do something and with no questions would just jump into it. I was also one of the first girls to smoke, so I was super-hardcore (kidding).

This drinking was mild, accepted, if you will. I was the naughty one who drank and smoked. I was happy when I drank because I was funny and people enjoyed my company, and of course they don’t tell 16-17 year olds who are underage, that when taking anti-depressants it’s not wise to drink on them, as it will result in deeper depression or have the opposite effect. I got into a cycle of thinking people only liked me when I was drunk. I was only funny and fun when I was drunk. So here is where my drinking spiral started, I was either sober, sensible, boring wallflower or the crazy but cool girl, which was followed by depression/’losers’. Rock and a hard place, I thought. I had to sacrifice one or the other, so I sacrificed… the sensible one.

An Obsessive Commitment

To get back to the or rather my story: my laxative dependence was monitored,

and stopped all together actually. I was told to see the woman from Tara who I

mentioned in my previous blogs. But after copious amounts of blood test, ECG’s,

MRI’s, doctors, hospitals and a couple of psychologists, a woman from Tara didn’t

scare me.

We spoke about my disorder and how and why I was so scared of food. It wasn’t

the food it was carbohydrates, if I ate carbohydrates I would need to get rid of

them. She said we would start slow. One provita (cracker) a day in my lunch box,

just one. I was even too scared to eat that, sometimes I would eat half and gym a

little longer in the afternoon, or throw the whole thing away all together. I was

TERRIFIED. Eventually she worked me up to 3 a day and that I could not get my

mind around. They also landed up in the bin or I gave them to a friend. I would

not let them get inside me and destroy the work I had done. I continued to gym

excessively and deny my body of carbohydrates. I was also told not to do too

much exercise as my heart was probably still under a whole lot of pressure. Did I

care? Certainly not. But I wasn’t clever then, obviously, and I was still weak but

still committed to losing more weight.

Now because I was being watched, I couldn’t go into the shops alone, of if I did I

would have to bring back slips to show laxatives were not on the receipt, or to

show the correct change was there. It was difficult to enjoy a good meal without

feeling guilty so I did start vomiting up my food occasionally that is when I

wanted a scone or a pizza or something to that extent. When I vomited it wasn’t

easy, I had to train myself in my own step‐by‐step guide, if you will, of how to

successfully bring up my food. The problem with vomiting, although you don’

constantly feel ill like one does on laxatives, the effects are the same. I vomited

up all my fluids, electrolytes and salts, all the essentials to keep a body

functioning. The heart needs a medium, fluid or plasma, to pass the red blood

cells around the body and to the brain, so when there is no fluid, oxygen cannot

get to the brain, leaving the body in a bit of a mess. I was always light headed and

weak, my vision got blurred not too badly though and my hearing went a little

off.

The few hours before my dietician appointments had changed since I had lost

weight. Let me explain. When I was small in age but bigger in size, I would take

apple cider vinegar to school. Someone once said if you take a teaspoon of it

every morning it will speed up your metabolism. So in typical me style, the

extreme, I would drink half a bottle of vinegar at 2nd break that was probably at about

12:30 in time for my appointment at 14:00. In my mind it would shave off half a

kilo, then I wouldn’t get a mouthful from the dietician. It usually worked, but

drinking half a bottle of vinegar to the point of gagging, it was not worth it. This

attitude had changed slightly however, before the dietician I would drink a litre

and a half of water, which can basically make the scale say 1.5 kilos have been

put on and when the psychologist asked me if I needed the toilet (I had to go to

the toilet before I weighed in), I would say no and jump on the scale. I was

praised for putting on non‐existent weight. It was marvellous. But it did not do

wonders for my insides.

Vomiting like laxatives gave me a raw throat, I got calluses on my knuckles, my

skin was not ideal, my hair was unhealthy and my nails peeled off before they

even began to grow. And despite the amount of self‐tan I used, my skin did get a

yellowish tone to it, which is a side effect of an eating disorder.

I hated going out with friends, only because I envied them, they were allowed to

eat. Watching them slip pizza into their mouths with such ease and freedom no guilt at all. I

just drank coke lights pretending that they gave me the same amount of

satisfaction. I never ordered food out, I always said I had eaten, or I had just had an

ice‐cream or something.

I noticed a friend of mine was behaving in a similar way. Telling everyone how

much she had eaten. Before I had finalized my opinion about her having a

disorder, I observed her behaviour. Denying food, drinking water, in my

opinion…my tricks. The one afternoon we were at lunch she ate a meal and then

excused herself. I knew her game and I knew I could play it so much better than

she could. She took a while in the bathroom and when she returned I went into

the bathroom. There was one cubicle so I knew she was there. (This is how

obsessed I was) I could smell vomit and I could see the oil film that blanketed the

toilet bowl, and I remember thinking to myself if a person is going to vomit they

have to do it properly so no evidence is found. I knew the tricks I was a

professional.

I found this in one of my diaries from 2006. And I’m a little disturbed by it

actually;

1. Drink lots of water before a binge.

2. Wait a little have a cig or watch some tv, keep occupied for 10minutes

3. Use the basin not the toilet, this way you can tell exactly what has come up and

what hasn't.

4. Open window widely to get rid of smell.

5. Wet hand before.

6. If you vomit in the toilet make sure you lay toilet paper down first so that the

sound is muffled.

7. Lay toilet paper over vomit and flush, if film is still there, place more toilet

paper inside and flush.

8. Wipe all mess away from under the seat and around the upper bowl.

9. Wash hands and basin with hot water.

10. NB! Be gentle, when possible avoid calluses.

Feeding Knowledge: Meaning in Disorder

Meaning of the disorder:

There are four factors to mention that of pride, power, hurt and protection.

Pride:

Teens with perfectionist tendencies, a diet becomes a major focus. Losing weight is praised, "I wish I had the will power you do to say no to cake and sweets." These sort of comments lead to a sense of pride in the individual, their values, self-esteem and a sense of accomplishment. When it gets taken to far and people start making recommendations of putting on weight, the ill person will see it as though the other person is jealous of their weight loss, especially seeing as though weigh and the perfect body image had been so focused on in society and the media.

The ill person may feel that they are unique in terms of body and shape that increases their feeling or self worth. (Taking this into account I used to feel worthless before I discovered laxatives they made me feel alive, they made me feel real as oppose to a wallflower of lard.)

Power:

People with these illnesses may find that they hold a lot of power in the family, which results in a feeling of strength within. For the first time in their lives they may feel they have complete control over something. If this feeling of power is enjoyed, the only way they can use it, in their minds is through the eating disorder as oppose to other areas such as school or friendships, thus making the illness even more profound.

Hurt:

In addition to the above, children may begin to realize how much hurt they are causing those closest to them which ultimately makes them feel worse. When this feeling arises, they tend to turn to the eating disorder as a coping mechanism, here again a vicious cycle.

Protection:

They may discover that with the eating disorder, their feelings of hurt are numbed and that other previous worries seem less important. The disorder becomes their prime focus, and over time develops into something familiar and comforting. Not eating provides a ‘high’ in my opinion, being in control and happy, as the disorder becomes a means of organizing their seemingly chaotic lives. It also serves to protect young people from the fear of growing up and maturation. (Disorders may stunt growth due to lack of the right nutrition, as well as take a toll on puberty, which was mentioned in the previous blog. Some females become too thin that their body stops menstruating.)

There are some changes in food behaviour that may be noticed with a child who suffers from an eating disorder:
Eating in silence. Preoccupied with the food and eating process.

Prolonged time ingesting their food

Playing with food, pushing it around the plate.

Excessive use of salt and spices on food.

Unusual mixes of different foods

Excessive gum chewing

Excessive drinking of coffee and tea, caffeinated drinks (diuretics)

From the same book I have mentioned, there is a list of what the eating disorder means for the child that I think is rather interesting. How they feel when they have the disorder:

I am now unique and special.

I feel virtuous and pure.

Not eating allows me to feel in complete control of my life.

Not eating makes me feel happy, straight away.

This makes me feel that I can do what no one else can.

Eating means I am a failure.

Eating means that I am weak.

I need to punish myself by not eating.

I don’t deserve to eat. If I eat, I don’t deserve to go out this evening.

Not eating allows me to be the centre of attention.

Not eating allows all my other worries to go away. This is all I have to focus on.

When I don’t eat I divert my attention away from other events. Ie. Arguments

When I don’t eat I feel empty. This is comfortable.

Not eating allows me to lose my period. I don’t want my period.

I don’t want to grow up.

The eating disorder is who I am.

I must say I have to agree with all of these but especially the last one. The eating disorder became who I was, as if I was living for the disorder. I focused on nothing else; read every label, every gram of fat was taken into account. If I couldn’t find laxatives I would buy 6 packets of sugar-free chewing gum, eat them but swallow the gum, all 6 packets, only because on the back I read, "excessive consumption may cause laxative effect." The eating or rather purging of food gave me a purpose, something I had lost a few years back.

Feeding Knowledge: The False Truths

Surprisingly, eating disorders are not just an issue with food and eating, they are symptoms or results of underlying problems. The controlling of weight and food intake is used as tools to help with problems in a person’s life that ordinarily would seem almost impossible to solve. This is important: both restriction of food and binging, actually provides a way to numb feelings and emotions for a short time, until of course, they need to do it again which is the vicious cycle of the disorders. Others will use it as a sort of comfort (Katzman, D.k. & Pinhas, L., 2005).

Now here are some false truths about the disorders, what people perceive as truth and what is ACTUALLY true (Katzman, D.k. & Pinhas, L., 2005).

F# you can tell by appearance if someone has an eating disorder…

T# Well, not all anorexics are underweight much like how not all bulimics are skinny and not all bingers are overweight. Everyone’s appearances are different, genetics, allows for all individuals to be of a different size and shape. All of these disorders are serious mental and physical health problems, but they are not dependent on size or shape, and not all skinny girls have a weight problem, as this may be simply genetic.

F# People with anorexia do not eat rubbish food, sweets and takeaways…

T# Anorexia is not about the TYPE of food eaten but rather the AMOUNT of food allowed to enter the body, which is balanced or cancelled out for energy use.

F# Anorexics do not binge or purge, bulimics do not restrict…

T# Anorexics do have binges which may result in purging, some will purge even if a binge has not been had. Bulimics restrict food intake, eventually the body starts to crave certain nutrients and a binge will result, thus the binge purge cycle mentioned in the previous blog.

F# People think a person is bulimic only if they vomit or make use of laxatives, diuretics and diet pills as a form of getting rid of food…

T# excessive exercise, fasting, or food restriction (skipping meals) are also forms of bulimic behaviour.

F# boys with eating disorders are gay…

T# although the risk of an eating disorder is higher in homosexuals, both anorexia and bulimia effect straight boys. (I did know a boy, who, on telling him about my problem of occasionally vomiting, he spoke about how he too vomited up meals to keep fit for hockey. He was a jock, an ex-boyfriend of mine, also one of those 3 week ones. I thought he was lying, or just really strange).

Now these next ones I find very important to take note of, not only in terms of the blog, but other readers who know of someone or who are someone who has/had an eating disorder, and possibly need the truth or perhaps an explanation for the ‘methods in madness’.

F# people with eating disorders come from a broken/dysfunctional family…

T# The cause of eating disorders are not entirely known, however teenagers from all types of families have been recorded to have had eating disorders, so family is NOT the cause, family or the support thereof is the solution. If someone has an eating disorder in the family it may make way for a feeling that the family is dysfunctional but this is more of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

F# People with eating disorders, have the intention of hurting their family and friends…

T# observing the effects of an eating disorder on an individual may be extremely pain-full. BUT people with eating disorders do not always do what they do with the intention to hurt those closest to them. In fact, they tend to protect their families from knowing and perhaps feeling the emotional pain that they are going through, this is the secretive nature of the illness.

F# Those who binge or who are always eating are fat and lazy…

T# Binge eating is a serious disorder. It too has to do with emotional pain, and tough circumstances. They express emotional hurt through food, and those that binge eat do need to be treated for the illness. Diets are NOT the treatment.

F# You cant die from an eating disorder…

T# Eating disorders have one of the highest death rates of any psychiatric disorders. Death among teens with disorders goes between 5% and 9% and up to 20% in adults. Bulimics and anorexics are equally vulnerable.

F# Recovering from an eating disorder is like recovering from alcoholism…

T# While they are both coping mechanisms, they do differ in the recovery process. One way to recover from alcoholism is to stop drinking all together, recovering from an eating disorder requires steps to be taken, learning how to eat all kinds of food without compensating or having such a fear and guilt attached to food type. Unlike alcoholism, one with an eating disorder cannot simply stop eating.