Frightening Miss Moffat Away

**HUGE MASSIVE TRIGGER AND CONTENT WARNING**

Anyone that has suffered/is suffering from an eating disorder or disordered eating should read this blogpost with caution. Perhaps don't read it all unless you are in a safe space. I am writing about my thought patterns around weight and food right now as I feel it's important for people who perhaps don't have those relationships with food to understand what it's like. I also would like it to serve as a reminder of hope in dark places for people struggling with other issues and to show the parts of the healing process that are not so publicly talked about.

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I’m not sure if it is a mixture of a second lockdown, being back in my childhood home, my partner returning after being away from me and my body for a long time or the beginning of the run up to Christmas indulgence but I am back to obsessing about my weight. I am really struggling to not think about it, to not restrict my food, to not punish myself for not exercising, to not stand in the mirror and repeatedly scoff at how awful I look.

Obviously, this is making me feel like shit and guilty as all hell but something is different. I am noticing it. At the same time as I am looking at an apple turnover thinking it’s “bad for me” there is another voice, quite an aggressive one actually. This voice says “Well you know that’s not true.” This voice reminds me “There’s no such thing as bad foods, with the exception of perhaps a triple, deep fried camembert but even that sounds like heaven” This voice berates me “Would you ever cope on! What would you say to a friend if they said that?” Let’s call this voice Jo.

Now, it would be great if right now I listened to Jo and scoffed that apple turnover right down but sadly the other voice, let’s call her Moffat, hasn’t left. Jo and Moffat are just as loud as each other, just as persuasive but Moffat has an advantage. She’s been around longer. She’s the voice that I have listened to most. Even if I briefly take Jo’s side and eat the turnover, Moffat will still be there tutting and shaking her head.

It’s funny that I see this as a positive but I remember life with Jo wasn’t around. I remember when it was just Amy and Moffat. There was no release. There was no one in my head offering a different perspective. There was no one telling me that I will get through another second lockdown (I never really left it!), that I have grown since leaving this childhood bedroom, that my partner will just be excited to see me no matter my shape otherwise why the flip would I marry him or that Christmas is the bloody best time of the year and food heaven awaits.

Jo is hope. Hope that one day her voice will be louder. Hope that one day Moffat will be so quiet that she’ll be a whisper of a memory. Hope that one day I will be able to look at an apple turnover as what it is, a delicious, pastry treat and not a reflection of my ability to say no.

So, if you’ll excuse me I have a Moffat to silence and a turnover to eat. Let’s go, Jo.