Perfection is overrated, I’d rather pretend to be a lion any day…

I’ve had a very interesting few months. I have been writing a novel and working hard. I have moved into a new house and been catching up with my amazing friends. I even went to the South. I know right.

I can honestly say, that although the last few months have been very stressful for me due to family illnesses and moving and general life issues, I am content. I have reached a point in my life where I can honestly say I don’t worry as much about things, I don’t get as angry about things and I have let go of a few of my inner demons.

A few are still there, of course. I wouldn’t be me without them. And that is the crux of this post. I have thought a lot about perfection recently, or the strive towards perfection and how it can benefit and harm us.

I was talking with an amazing friend recently and a few quotes from our conversation were:

Everyone dislikes part of them self. Humans strive for perfection, that’s why we accomplish great things but we’ll never meet the finish line. We can’t be perfect. It’s like an endless race. And you might think what’s the point if there isn’t an end, but to me I just think what’s the point in being on the side line. Might as well go forward and get a better view. Learn to love your flaws because they make you, you.

Being in recovery for an eating disorder has made me think a lot about my imperfections.

  1. I’m very short.
  2. My hair is a mess constantly.
  3. My eyes are weird.
  4. I have truly terrible skin due to eczema and psoriasis.
  5. I store all my fat on my lower stomach.

and many more.

Another quote was:

They do though. Imperfections are what make you overcome things, try new things, find ways around things etc. Imperfections are brilliant. Why be another mould of someone else. Have dents and scratches.

So let’s try that list again.

    1. My eyes are weird. I like heavy eye make up, I get an excuse to wear it. Also I can see, even if I need glasses. I actually have eyes. I also like the colour of them quite a bit and it isn’t even noticeable. Stop comlaining, Jamison.
    2. My hair is a mess constantly. I quite like dressing like Bellatrix Lestrange, my hair is PERFECT for this. Also I can dress like a lion. As everyday wear. I think this is an acceptable thing to do, so I shall do so. I am eccentric, I don’t even care. Also curly hair can get away with mess and frizz a lot more, just saying. Stop complaining, Jamison.
    3. I’m very short. I may be short but I don’t need to duck under low branches and quite frankly I have kick ass calves from all the reaching for things and wearing heels and jumping and such. Also I am afraid of heights so… Stop complaining, Jamison.
    4. I have truly terrible skin due to eczema and psoriasis.I have skin. I am not burnt, I am not contagious, I am not actually that bad. Although this is propbably one of my worst points, I know I could be a lot worse, because I have been worse. It is mostly contained to my hands, sometimes feet and no one can actually see my psoriasis even when naked and I doubt most people even knew about it. With moisterizer and a good diet I can live mostly normally with my skin with only minor issues. Stop complaining, Jamison.
    5. I store all my fat on my lower stomach. In the grand scheme of things it is not that much fat and it is healthier than upper stomach. Also I no longer look starved. And I have boobs again. And a few crunches would make it look better. Stop complaining, Jamison.

So there we go. Flaws help us become who we are. I am a Bellatrix Lestrange fanatic who can flip her lion mane hair franticly in frustration after she has failed to reach something on the top shelf and I can stalk off under our plum tree wearing heels without having to duck the branches.


Yes, I am being silly, but you get my point. I love my flaws even though I dislike them. I guess they are like some family members. Heh heh.

We then said:

That’s why you should always have friends who are flawed. Polished stones just slide off each other. Rough pieces can fit together better

That and perfect friends would be boring as hell and probably make you go insane. The reason I love my friends is all their weird quirks and habits, admittedly I am probably weirder, but still. It is their flaws that make them…not perfect… but PERFECT FOR ME. I wouldn’t change any of them, not one single one. Love ’em. To bits. Tiny little lovely bits. Sorry, going overboard again.

So go forth and love yourself, all of yourself including your flaws. Be who you are completely and utterly. Strive forwards and find great adventures behind those obstacles you overcome. Again, like family, you are stuck with them. You don’t have to like those imperfections, but love them and you will become so much happier.


The Bullying Effect: Recovery part 2

I was bullied during my school years. I was bullied consistently and at times quite viscously. It wasn’t just girls, it was boys as well. There was name calling, rumours, teasing, cyber bullying, lies, isolation and at one point it did escalate into a physical attack.

I personally wish I had had the courage to call the police. I wish I had had the courage to tell my parents, or at least let my friends know the true scale of it, if they were not fully aware.

The reason I did not, was because for years I had assumed if I told the teacher it would stop. I did tell. I didn’t mess around. I told various teachers of various superior positions in the school. Nothing. I put notes in the “bully box” in the school’s nurses office. Nothing. I was in tears in that very office on more than one occasion. Nothing. I hid in that office everyday for weeks, and they wondered my I needed so much paracetamol. Nothing. I went to deputy heads, and other teachers in tears, scared and upset, and yet still nothing was done.

Being bullied is an intensely lonely time in your life. Feeling like everyone hates you, you start to believe that you are worthless. I did not need teachers ignoring what was going on. Certain teachers even ignored one quite severe incident in the girls changing rooms. I will not go into detail, however, I would say ignoring that was borderline neglect.

Everyone deserves to feel safe at school. Everyone deserves to be happy and have the chance to make friends.

The bullying I experienced turned me into a cold and standoffish person. I just did not trust anyone. I always thought people had an ulterior motive for talking to me. This was a defence mechanism. I didn’t want to be hurt any more. The fact even teachers did not care made me think I was worthless.

Now, along with other things, like my father passing away suddenly, this helped trigger an eating disorder. My self esteem was so low. I thought I was worth nothing. Less than nothing.

Bullying should not be tolerated. 

Teachers should not neglect their student’s needs.

I have my own thoughts as to why my pleas for help fell on deaf ears. At a very academic school, I was not the clever one, or good at sport, or drama. I fell in the middle of everything, miss average. I fell through the net. The high flyers were allowed to do what they liked to who they liked because of who they were.

This is all theory, however, the facts are that I asked for help and it was ignored repeatedly.

Bullying can destroy people. It is serious.
Every one deserves the chance to be happy, think they are worth something and thrive.
Words can last a lifetime.
They can chip away at someone’s life so they have nothing left.

All I know now, is if I ever see bullying, I WILL ACT.

I am getting over the things said to me. I am a stronger person and I will not let anyone from my past interfere with my future happiness. I know it had made me a better person because I know I never ever want to make someone feel the way I did, and ultimately people in the real world, outside the school environment, will not put up with it.

They will be fired, dismissed, ignored themselves.
They will have to become a better person at some point, otherwise they will lose everything themselves.

I genuinely hope my school bullies have found peace with themselves and don’t wish to harm people any more. I hope they have grown up. I genuinely hope they are happy, because I stand by what I said. Everyone deserves happiness. I might not like them, but I have forgiven. And this blog post is me finally letting go.



I have an eating disorder. I was diagnosed with EDNOS a while ago, but I have been suffering for a long time. It probably started with various incidents of quite severe bullying that went on at school which was ignored. Then, everything spiralled out of control when I lost my father just before going to university.

The new control and freedom of university allowed me to take out my grief, and insecurities on food. My self esteem got lower as my weight did. Friends became more worried and I kept getting more and more incidents of quite severe low mood or depression.

I became underweight, and an incident where my own thoughts scared me so much sent me to my GP. I had enough of it. I was instantly referred to an eating disorder clinic. I have been seeing my councillor for a while now, however, it is only recently I think that I am making quite a lot of progress. It is only now that I truly think I am recovering. I can see the way forward.

I am really scared of gaining weight. Really scared, however I know that it is not the worst thing in the world. I know my health is more important. And, most of all, I know my father would want me to throw myself into recovery. He was never the type to give up. I know he taught me well, so I know I never will.

Today I made a massive step and gave my scales to my house mate to hide from me. I will not be able to weigh myself, I will not be able to give into the addiction of seeing the numbers decrease.

I will not feed my demons instead of feeding myself.

I will not be able to obsess about it any more. Instead, I can focus on health.

I don’t want a certain number. I want a healthy weight and a healthy body shape. I want food to nourish me and give me the energy I need to fulfil a happy life. There are going to be some people reading this who did not know I had this mental illness, but some who did. There are so many different reasons I didn’t tell certain people, and it was not personal. It was what was best for me.

The people who did know, I can not thank enough. They gave me the support and love and kindness I needed. I know how depressing, and scary, and annoying my behaviours and my thoughts got at times, yet they stuck by me. They realised that the real me was still here, just deeper down than before. If they are reading this, and thinking “am I one of these people?” Then they probably are, and I love them.

This is not something you can get over or recover from overnight, I will probably have to think of my health, and try to conquer certain demons for the rest of my life. I know when I go through harder times, because life is like that, I will have to be careful not to slip back. However, I know my friends and family will always be there, and my father is watching over me somewhere urging me to be the best me I can be.

Despite this support, this is the time for me to be open. I need to speak out. Yes, I have an eating disorder, yes I am mentally ill, but I am recovering. I am fighting. I am getting better. And most of all, I am happy.

My mother makes me happy. My friends make me happy. My university makes me happy. My progress makes me happy. I am focussing on the positive things in life, and learning how to cope with the negative. My father was my hero, and him dying was the most horrible and tragic thing that ever happened to me. However, I can’t do him justice being ill. I can’t make him proud with no energy to accomplish anything.

Deep down, I know he taught me better than this. He brought me up to take every opportunity I can and to do the best I could, and to never ever let anything get in the way of my dreams and happiness. One of his biggest fears was even that I would be stuck in a job I didn’t like. I know how clever he was, and I know he would hate what damage I have done to myself so far. So I will recover for him.

Most of all, I will recover for me.

I deserve to be happy. And I deserve to be confident. Despite the name calling, and the pushing and the systematic bullying that I experienced, I know I am worth something. If I wasn’t why would my friends have stuck by me through this.

It is too early to tell if I owe them my life, but at the moment it feels like it. I definitely owe them a lot.

So yes, dear readers, this was a personal post. No, my blog will not become dedicated to my disorder. My blog is about all aspects of my life, this is one of them. I may never post about this ever again. But I am sick of hiding it. Mental illness is not something to be ashamed of. We need to break the taboo. We need to speak out.


I am not ashamed.

I am proud, because I am a fighter.

I am a Jamison.