Friday, 3 December 2010

Snow.

We've got a fair whack of snow and it's getting me down. You know how when snow first falls everybody gets really excited, because they forget the inconvenience and what a bitch it is when it turns to ice, and really how bloody cold and wet it is? Well, I never forget that. But really, that's not what bothers me so much about snow. You take, I don't know, torrential rain and what a bloody inconvenience that is (if my face gets in the rain too much, my skin peels off. I'm not kidding, I'm allergic to rain. Or maybe just Scunthorpe rain, since that shit is radioactive, like most of the population. 'Hi, welcome to Scunthorpe. The only place that advertises it's inhabitants in its name'), but that doesn't depress me any more than it thrills me.

Snow, on the other hand... There are two big issues with snow. Besides the obvious ones about how it limits footwear and I have no balance and it's cold and my fragile blue eyes cannot handle the brightness (which isn't REALLY an issue because I always have at least 2 pair of sunglasses on me). We got snow last year at this time, when I was waiting everyday for the phone call to tell me that a bed was available for me in Leeds, to go serve out my eating disorder sentence. Then we got snow when I was IN Leeds, serving out that such sentence. Actually, the only issue I'm going to write about here is that one- the reminder of YCED. I don't especially want to get into the third because it's actually too fukmalyf for this blog, even.

I've been through much worse in my life than eating disorder treatment. Much, much worse. I can't say it was the best time of my life, but it wasn't even the worst of this year- getting sectioned and having a tube going up my nose and into my stomach, having calories constantly being forced down it? Much worse. No doubt. But it's everything that that time represents. The hope leading up to it. The imagining of a pure freedom that just never arrived. Think of the abolition of slavery. The slaves and their supporters, sure, they worked and they prayed and they organised resistance, won a war. Get told they're free and then what? Most of them ended up working for the same masters and paying any wages they got back to the master in exchange for board. And here I am, I am free. 'Free'.

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