Obviously I noticed your daughter before I noticed you. I expect you are used to that. Legs so thin, how could it be any other way? I tried not to stare but it’s so hard not to. People used to stare at me in much the same way, or so I’ve been told (I never noticed at the time). Once you’d both signed in, you came and sat next to me, with her on the other side of you. I noticed you then but only because I couldn’t see her any more.
(more…)

Dangerous schizophrenics, eh? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t lock ‘em up and throw away the key, at least not until they’ve actually done something. It’s political correctness gone, quite literally, mad.

Yesterday evening I watched an ITV News report on Nicola Edgington, official, card-carrying DANGEROUS SCHIZOPHRENIC. Except apparently she has “borderline personality disorder” instead. I don’t know the precise distinctions – beyond the fact that one seems to make you more criminally culpable than the other – but I do know that “borderline personality disorder sufferer” doesn’t sound as good as “DANGEROUS SCHIZOPHRENIC”. Hence the report was at pains to highlight the link between people being DANGEROUS and SCHIZOPHRENIC. It isn’t much of a link, but still, it’s one that’s always worth exaggerating when you’re aiming to be sensationalist, ablist and utterly shameless in your reporting. (more…)

In 1993, over the Christmas break, a woman faked her own abduction and then falsely claimed to have been raped. Her reason for doing so? Publicity, perhaps. A misguided need for attention. But also an attempt to get away from the holidays. The woman, a bulimia sufferer, simply could not face this time of year.

When the news of the fake abduction broke, I remember most people, my family included, being scathing. What a waste of police time and money. What a great deal of worry caused to family and friends. As if an eating disorder can be an excuse! And yet, while I couldn’t exactly understand the woman’s actions – and still can’t – a bit of me wanted to try. As a sufferer of anorexia and bulimia, I recognised the panic that Christmas can cause and I recognised, too, the lack of comprehension that sufferers face. (more…)

Hey everyone! Yesterday it was the turn of Caitlin Moran – today let’s all flame India Knight! These female Times journalists don’t half ask for it, don’t they? (Meanwhile, Rod Liddle treads the same old hate-filled path because, well, he’s just Rod Liddle. Funny, that.)

I have a feeling that Knight wrote something deeply offensive about mental illness in yesterday’s Sunday Times. This is just a feeling, though, since I’m not about to subscribe to the bloody thing to find out. All the same, I’ve seen the “taster” paragraphs and it doesn’t look promising: (more…)

In 1987, the year in which the film Wish You Were Here? was released, I spent most of my time in a mental hospital. I was 12 years old and suffering from anorexia. For most of the summer and a good part of the autumn I was on on bed rest, intermittently awarded and denied “privileges” based on weight gained and lost. For several weeks I was denied visitors, phonecalls and reading material. Fortunately, one day I found a copy of 19 stuffed down the side of the bed. For a long time the magazine was all I had to look at, other than the carpet, the wall and the ceiling. So I read it again and again. (more…)

When modern life started getting her down, Jessica Brinton refused to pop Prozac. Instead she decided to get spiritual and went on an energy odyssey.

Sunday Times Style supplement, 12/08/12

It’s been almost a month since I started ‘popping’ Prozac again and I’ll be honest: I have no idea what effect it’s having. I still have feelings that I wouldn’t even want to blog about, but then I don’t know how bad I’d feel without the pills. So I’ll keep on ‘popping’, as it were, while still attempting to make those “positive lifestyle changes which help boost self-esteem” (Step 1: avoid all magazine articles which include the phrase “positive lifestyle changes which help boost self-esteem”). (more…)

Lately I’ve been feeling a bit down. Actually, make that very, very down. Poor, sad, glum, down me. But don’t worry. This morning I headed to the doctor’s and asked for some pills. I got them and now I’m looking forward to feeling much, much better.

You’re probably reading this and thinking “well, that sounds perfectly reasonable”. But in case you’re not – in case you’re my mum, or my friends, or some random person I’ve just met in the street – here are a few clarifications to put your mind at rest: (more…)

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