The 'GlimMEr' In Me

Luka
Jul 19
4 min read

A glimmer is a term I recently learnt, meaning the antithesis of a 'trigger'. They're the moments that, instead of filling you with dread, fill you with joy. When you have an eating disorder, you have to look for the glimmers; otherwise, your life becomes completely unbearable. These are all of the glimmers in my life recently, Dolls!

I've spent the last 5 years institutionalised. The effect of this has been paramount in a plethora of ways, particularly being cast away from the daylight; not knowing what time it was, the intensity of the sunshine or a breeze upon my face. I became infatuated with the sun in a way I'd never learnt before. I knew it like a friend or a lover. When I was out of these institutions, I would sometimes spend hours sitting in the sun and the fresh air, doing nothing besides relishing in it. The glimmering sunlight became my glimmer, every day between my first admission and since I last left. The sun has my heart and soul forevermore.

My OCD is heavily related to my eating disorder. There are many things I cannot do because my OCD is stronger than me: Eating food prepared by other people or cooking in too close a vicinity to others are the two major things. It's been a long time since I've let anybody make things for me without strict rules and supervision on my part, which sucks the joy and fun out of being doted over and adored. I thought to myself, do I want to live like this... Being excluded from utterly and totally everything? So I thought, what can I give up, even if it's one small, obscure thing, to make me feel normal, cherished and a part of something greater for just a few sweet, simple seconds? This year, I started allowing my dad to prepare a cup of tea for me every morning before we get up to go get our coffees. He's been making one for my mum every morning since I can remember, and has continued to offer me for just as long, despite how frequently and expectantly I would decline. I suppose his asking was his way of not giving up on me. One day, we decided to make it work. Now, it's my first glimmer of everyday. A ritual I once feared has become one I look forward to. I trust that he does it in the most OCD efficient way he can, though in the moments when I doubt that, I must deal with the discomfort of not having control and continuing to drink the tea despite my fears. Yes, a glimmer it is, to see my handsome dad walk into my room first thing on a Sunday morning, with a smile on his face, delighted to be doing something he may never have thought I'd let him do for me, again.

I recognise the absolute luck and freedom that it has been to be born as I, a white female living in a middle-class society in a first-world country. Whilst recognising this and the fact that I have suffered significantly less than and minutely in comparison to others, I have still suffered deeply with mental illness, bullying and multiple forms of abuse from people I trusted. And for how I have suffered, I've harboured this significant coping tool in the founding of my blog, the sole means I use daily for expressing myself. It is a joy, a pleasure and something that I fear, if forced to face the world without it, I would bottle up so much more daily, weekly and yearly. Throughout nearly all of my hospital admissions, the termination of one of my most significant relationships, the cementing of a severe case of anorexia and the newly diagnosed illnesses of OCD and depression, I've had my blog to release all of the anguish, fear, turmoil and confusion I've experienced. And I continue to use it for this purpose every day. I consider my blog and all of my followers to be a haven, like my daily dose of sunlight, and even in light of rain. Every day, my blog allows for this glimmer to exist. It's beautiful, rare and true.

I relay another instance of overcoming OCD, for its prevalence in my life has been devastating and taken an incredible amount of my freedom. It is with pain in my fingers as I type that I remember the times when I had difficulty doing one of my favourite activities in the world: adoring my dog, Archie. Even if I were to do something as simple as patting him, I needed to spend significant time sterilising my hands and the surrounding environment. To love him was not with ease but rather stress, and it broke my heart that my OCD made it so difficult for me to love a being that I wanted to love effortlessly, freely and bound by nothing. Since trialling many medications and battling with a multitude of mindsets, I've become lucky enough to fall in love with my Darling all over again, in a way I never have before. Now, I don't only love him effortlessly, but I love him with the experience of my past, which allows me to recognise how lucky one is to live a life with a pet or other family member that is void of OCD. Every instance in which he licks me, touches me, sits on me, rubs against me, instead of feeling an anguish rising inside of me, I feel a glimmer that takes the form of my heart skipping a beat with infatuation and with love. A glimmer so potent as this one is remarkable, pure and kind.