Helena Busia

A year ago today, I sat at my laptop, and read over something for what must have been the hundredth time. It was something scary, and something I didn't think would amount to much. That something was " Where is My Sugar Free Happy Ending" . It was an essay-come-catharsis-type piece that detailed my issues with Diabulimia. Before writing that original post, I had lost my lust for life. In all honesty, the prospect of death didn't scare me. I showed no fear in response to the fact that starving myself of insulin was as good as suicide; I was thin, so what else mattered?  One year on, I can tell you that life matters.  A year on, I can tell you that I am able to study for my A-Levels, my brain is no longer foggy and clouded, I am filling my brain full of power- no longer letting an addiction put my ambition on hold. A year on, I can tell you how elated I am to be going out with my friends, finally feeling what it was like to laugh again. A year on,...

I have always had a fear of failing.   I've found it to be my greatest motivator, and greatest curse, throughout my life. I'm pretty confident in estimating where this fear stemmed from. I narrowly missed ( And I mean narrowly- 1 bloody mark! Not that I'm bitter or anything... ) the pass mark for the "Eleven Plus" exam. Just like that, I differed to all of my classmates who were deemed "worthy" of an education that I, somehow, was not deserving of. There, within that pale envelope, was the black and white proof that I was a failure.  Ever since then, I have strived for near perfection, fixated on never having to experience that crushing feeling ever again . It's been a motivator throughout my life, providing me with the mantra "Why bother doing it if it's not done well". Largely, it's worked! Full marks in my English coursework and an excellent (bar maths!)  academic record, I have found my perfectionism to work out ve...