I feel semi-normal! Well, I use the word normal loosely because I really mean more like myself. My first therapy session was great – exhausting – but great. It allowed me to just chat openly about stuff and we delved into my reasons for comfort eating. I explained how I felt numb and never full. Actually pretty disconnected from the neck down. I admitted how I felt my body was useless, inefficient and how I had no respect for the damn thing.

Hearing myself be so derogatory and really speak about my body in the third person was liberating but also confronting. Abusing it with food because I feel disconnected from the neck down is not how I want to live. Apparently this is pretty common in women when they have experienced trauma.

Using that word, trauma, felt so harsh when people said it to me but then I realised that’s exactly what happened to me last year. Two pregnancy losses back to back was tough to say the least but that whole weekend of “are you actually going to miscarry or are we just putting you through hell for fun? Oh wait, yes you are going to miscarry but we just thought we’d give you a week where the blood tests were full of positivity” left me a shell of myself.

My energy drained, my hopeful nature dwindled, my self-depreciating humour turned less funny and more nasty. A part of me changed forever last year and I was naive in thinking it wouldn’t.

One thing to come out of my session was my admittance that I felt guilty. Guilty for actually feeling down when I have Little Man and many cannot have biological children at all. I think of it a bit like survivors guilt (which might sound strange and I plan to go into what I mean in more detail on another post). The immediate reply was that this is my journey and other people have theirs. This powerful validation that I could openly grieve and that my counsellor wouldn’t be thinking “what a selfish bitch” was liberating. A huge weight has been somewhat lifted.

Weirdly, I’ve been feeling incredibly full since my session. To the point where I didn’t have any dinner the night of it and haven’t been comfort eating in the same mindless way I was. I sure hope my body, brain and heart can reconnect and we can all live the rest of my days with a peaceful solidarity.

It’s early days but I’m hopeful. More than hopeful. I know I can do this…

Thanks for reading.

Until next time,



  1. You can do this!! I’m honestly so relieved to hear that your session went so well for you – because you deserve to be happy and you deserve to respect your body even if it didn’t do what you wanted it to.
    And you are right, this is your journey and you don’t have to compare it to others. Yes you have your little man and that’s awesome, but that also doesn’t take away from the hurt of each miscarriage and loss. I believe when we compare ourselves to others we are just giving ourselves excuses to beat ourselves up (and yet I still find myself doing it from time to time). I hope with this realization you are able to stop beating yourselves up and show yourself more grace. You are an amazing women, and don’t let anyone else, not even you, tell yourself any different.

    1. Thank you for your kind words and it’s so true about comparison. I think everyone has that thing in them where they go “but there’s people suffering worse than me out there” which is terrible because it just creates a false feeling that you shouldn’t be sad about what you’re going through. I tell people all the time not to downplay what they’re going through compared to another person so I just need to take my own advice!

  2. I am so glad the session went well for you. It was obviously a very heavy session and you dealt with some really confronting things. You are so brave. Go you! 🙂

    1. Thank you. It went better than my nerves led me to believe and I think most of all it provided a safe place where I could express the kind of things I don’t feel comfortable doing in real life.

  3. I had a remarkably similar realization recently– These experiences change us forever, and it is harder for us to achieve any kind of peace if we don’t accept it. There are moments in our lives that are huge. We’re all ready to embrace the good huge things and the changes that come with them (like meeting someone we love or having a child) but we refuse to accept that the hard huge things will have an impact too. (I hope that made sense.)

    I guess what I’m trying to say is that it is okay to admit that something terrible happened and that this will change who we are. The goal isn’t to go back to who we were, but to understand and love the people we are now.

    1. That makes perfect sense and I kinda love it. It’s so true! I think the hard part in grief is figuring out the new you. It’s unsettling to lose your identity for a while and I guess the obvious thing to do is to try and be the person you was before. Oh, I feel a blog post coming on 😉

  4. No matter what your inner demons are they are monumental to you ( that’s why they call them demons) they are scary, debilitating and personally destructive . Outwardly you can seem normal but inside your screaming, the only advice I can give you my lovely daughter is to talk and talk and talk to those that love you and will listen. The demons may never fully go away but you can cage them away somewhere in your head so that do less damage to you and those around you! Love dad xxx

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