To read this blog in order start at July right at the top of the blog archive and progress down in order. This is an account of my battle with anorexia and bulimia

Sunday 28 August 2011

new beginnings

“without purposeful action, you’re just a passenger, being pulled along without self-imposed direction or control” p134 (Dr Phil, Life Strategies)
That was me in a nutshell. I was drifting along, with no set goals. For at least a whole year I felt I existed. I had fun, but was in a rut. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted, or even where I wanted to be. I didn’t even know if I wanted my job any more. But I was scared to step out and take a chance.
I had the dream about Mim dying, then only a few days after that I dreamt about an ad in the paper about me leaving my child care centre. The thought of that terrified me because it was my first job and I really didn’t know if I would ever get another job. I spoke to Mim about all of this, and she asked if I considered moving back home. I admitted to looking up jobs on the internet, but hadn’t made a definite decision. For a couple of weeks I toyed with the idea of moving, then eventually everything fell into place. I felt comfortable all of a sudden when I thought about being with my family, and being in a familiar town. I no longer felt out of place. For weeks I was on a high because although it was such a big change in life, I knew it would work.
Everything fell into place automatically. Mim’s friend said I could move into his spare room. So I already had accommodation provided. I had a few interviews, and was offered a 2 day a week position at a preschool, so accepted that. I knew it was the right decision to make. Resigning from my job gave me the most liberating feeling. I had done my bit there, and made my impact. I never realised how much I was valued by the parents until I left, as I was showered with numerous gifts. As I walked out the gate I was worried I might cry, but instead I felt as though I had walked into a whole new world.
The saddest thing about leaving the mountains was leaving my friends and especially the family I was living with. I will always consider them my family now. I could never have gotten this far without the help from them.
Moving back was scary, and it still is. I admit that I feel a lot less stressed as the life style is a lot slower, and more laid back. But there are times when I just want to cry. I figured out today what part of the problem is. A hug! It can say so much, and when you miss out on them you feel isolated and alone, and that’s how I feel some days. Just to be close to someone. Mim and I are so close, but there’s some things that I feel better talking to a friend about. I am discovering a new me. A me without the eating disorder. I am meeting new people and at the moment I can sense that people like who I am. Strange feeling! Some one commented that they knew their children would be alright with me babysitting them because of my bright and bubbly personality. That is me without the eating disorder. I was noticed as me, and I was trusted. I wasn’t chosen because I was skinny. I don’t want people to know much about the eating disordered me. That is the past. That is not who I am now.
It’s a fight though and it always will be. Few days go by when it is not a struggle to eat. I don’t fear food, but I don’t always accept it as a part of my daily routine. It is a real effort to eat some days, and it is even more challenging to recognise and feed my hunger rather than feel satisfied that I let it ride and had nothing to eat. I don’t deny that I have lost weight since moving. And I don’t deny that I feel secretly pleased when someone comments. But I can be honest in saying it wasn’t intentional.
I try so hard to stay on track with eating because I don’t want to turn into what I used to be. The door is open for me to step back into the anorexic cage. I want only to get close enough to shut it, but that frightens me because I like where I am at and I am afraid I will be tempted to put a foot in. I still have strange views on numbers. I only like skinny numbers such as 1, 2, 4, 7, and any number over 10 that contains the previous numbers. I don’t like my birthday because it is a number 8, and it is in May and May is a short fat month. I dislike the letter f in my name because it is roundish at the top. No matter how I write it, I can’t make it look skinny. I also dislike the letter s is my name. Well, I just don’t like the spelling of my name overall. These things may seem obsessive, but I’d rather just worry about these abstract things then worry about what I am putting in my mouth.
I know the day will come when I won’t be afraid. I can see already how far I have come in just two years. It’s not easy, but nothing in life is a bed of roses. As human beings on this earth we make choices that contribute to shaping who we are. We can choose living, or we can choose existence. The difference being that living is making something of who we are, to deal with issues, to create relationship with people, and discover our self. Existing is just what the word says. We are here, we are alive, but we are not living.
Anorexia is existing, but I choose to live!! (november 2003)


I simply want to know what life is about and live it well, and not be afraid. To live without regret, without fear, without being locked up in a safety cage of my beliefs. But this is what has turned things around. Before long I became conscious of the fact that I was now living in reality. I was to be a responsible person who took action over my thoughts and emotions. I could no longer run to my eating disorder whenever things went bad. For 13 years I relied heavily on this disease as my way of life, as a coping mechanism. It hid me from pain, numbed me from real emotions, and prevented me from turning into an adult dealing with real life. I went through hurtful times, depressed thoughts for so long without telling people because I just stopped eating as a way to deaden what I really felt. As long as other people had problems I never comprehended that mine could matter even half as much.
In the past year I gradually became familiar with the person I was without an eating disorder. In reality it took at least 5 months to start getting used to the concept of eating dinner with a family, and including it as part of a routine. Then came giving up the laxatives, which took a while to deal with. During this time I still wasn’t confident with expressing my feelings, so it was absolute hell. Sometimes I just wanted to scream and swear, but my personality just doesn’t allow this sort of thing to happen.
So, I have had about 7months now of normal(ish) eating, and at the same time trying to figure out how to express what I feel. Sometimes it’s hard enough to even discover how I feel, let alone knowing what to do with it.
Work was all going well, but a lot of change was occurring. We had to get a new director, Anna came back, staff in my room changed, and I went back to my normal position. Now I
Everything at home is fine. I could never ask for a better family to be with. Jane keeps telling me how much I have grown (emotionally) in the past year. I can
It was like a split second decision, but one that changes you completely, and that is to stop eating so much. I often thought it throughout the year, but was enjoying myself too much to ever take my thoughts seriously. But this time it was different. Something inside me clicked, and it was like food became a poison. I got a drink bottle for work, so I could drink throughout the day instead of eating. As the week progressed I became more obsessive. I had music rehearsals for the musical TOMMY, so was able to escape dinner. The show was to start the week after this, so I had planned that I could skip dinner on these nights as well, and was very relieved, because that was my plan to keep me going for the next two weeks. However, there was a fire at the theatre, so the show no longer is going on. I went into an absolute panic, because it ruined my plans completely and now I didn’t know how to escape from dinner. If I wasn
It didn’t last that long though. I think I conned myself into believing that I could eat again, just because it became easier to say yes to food, rather than thinking of all sorts of ways to get out of food. My psych said that for so long I said “yes” to what other people wanted, not really considering how I felt in a situation. It was always less complicated to attend to other people, and agree with whatever they said, than to stand up for myself. So in that case, I said “no” to food instead. I denied myself of something.
6th July 2003
Nothing really makes sense. I am like a yoyo. One day I can eat, the next day I can’t. It hasn’t been a good week emotionally. Crystal (Jane’s daughter), is getting married. I am really happy for her, so that isn’t the issue. Family is the issue!! I feel I am on the outside looking in sometimes. Crystal and Jane have a very close mother/daughter relationship, and with the wedding plans moving along, this is becoming more and more evident. To hear her say the word mum, and give Jane a hug absolutely hurts. It’s as if my heart is yanked out. I guess I am jealous. So what do I do in return…starve (or try to anyway). At home I am becoming less confident to eat, and more determined not to eat. I will never refuse a meal while I am living here because I know how much it could hurt them. I have been down that road only a few years ago, and I won’t do it again. So my plan is to escape meals whenever possible. At times when the family get closer, I try so hard to busy my own life so it won’t look as though I need them. I would rather pull away than to be pushed away gradually. I know in the sensible part of me that that would never happen. They have fully accepted me as part of the family. But I am too scared to risk that. I have my own family who I am also scared to lose.
One night last week I had a terrible dream about Mim having to drive home on the freeway by herself. I don’t know if she made it home or not because I woke up crying for fear that she may not have made it home. I didn’t have the guts to ring her up the next day because I thought I was just being silly. For the whole week I was just off. All I wanted was my family with me. It was as though I kept reaching out but my arm was never long enough. Hard to actually describe. One half of me was watching a family be happy and content and I was only an arms length away literally, but just couldn’t get in there emotionally. The other half of me was yearning for my family, and my arm was stretching as far as it could go but it was never able to grasp it because I am too far away. So instead I am left in the middle. The most insane part of me wants to wrap up my own family, or lock them inside so nothing will ever happen to them. The dream was a real wake up call, and it really shook me up. I don’t know if I am in the right place or not.
t such an unassertive person, then I could just refuse dinner, but I just couldn’t do it. I eat it and panic. Although the amount I ate was probably about 5 spoonfuls, then I was in such a hurry or I would be late to go out. I make up excuses for the next two nights, and because I am naturally a busy out a lot person, my excuses seem so believable that there is no questioning.
t deny that I have. I am more honest with people now, I often stand up for myself, and I became more comfortable with who I was. But suddenly I am scared, I am so scared. I am letting go of a belief, and also of a way of life, and stepping out as what feels to be naked. It was so easy with an eating disorder, because that was my life, and that was my focus. I lost that focus when I gave up my disorder, but I never found a new focus. I am dealing with real problems in a real world, and I dont like it. It was easier to just be angry at myself, and put on a happy face for everyone else, because then I don‘t have to justify anything, or feel awkward.
m not saying these are bad changes at all, but they are all changes that happened at once. Its relieving not being a director, and to not have that responsibility. But at the same time its intimidating to watch a very very skinny person walk into my role. I felt inadequate, like a child who was trying to be an adult but didn’t really know how to behave, or how to properly take control of a situation. I was watchful with everything I did at work for fear that Rachael (new director) was watching me, and is wondering to herself how I could ever have been a director. I try to be happy at work, but sometimes I cant because I just dont know if I am giving my full 100% at my job. I feel lost.

long time between writing (4 months)

I was on such a good run, and was actually telling people it was over. Well, personally I don
In May I went on a holiday, just for a week. It was mainly to give myself a break as being a director had now been fully handed over to Rachael. I couldn’t believe how much a week could change thought patterns. The first few days were spent with friends who had moved to Newcastle. I hadn’t seen them for at least three years, so was a little nervous about it. I knew I had put on weight, and was ok was it, but was worried about how I would deal with anything they said. Hallelujah…nothing was mentioned, except for the look of surprise when I actually finished a whole meal.
From Newcastle I went up North. I was with my friend Pamela in Brisbane when I had, (what I think anyway) a panic attack. She was on the phone to her mother, and I was just watching television. An ad came on about women over the age of 35, and suddenly my life went before my eyes. Quick as a flash it happened. I put together in my head in a matter of seconds that in 7 years time I would be 35, then nearly 40, then sooner or later we’d all be old. I became quite anxious of the thought of dying. I kept watching the tv, and thought about how even after we die, life still goes on. Nothing changes….as humans we are but a spec of dust in this whole wide world. We are here for a mere 1-80 odd years, out of thousands upon thousands of years. In a few years time after our death we would be pointless to anybody, except those who
loved us. I freaked out (and still freak out today) about the limited amount of time we have to figure out our life, and feel happy and right about it. In this series of thoughts I started to question the whole God and Christianity thing. How am I assured heaven, and what is great about eternal life, how do we know it won’t get boring?? As Christians we live by this set of rules, that limit us in certain ways, and well, I don’t like it at the moment. Pamela came down and wondered by the look on my face what on earth could be the matter. I asked her if she wonders if we will ever live again but as a completely different human being, and not know that we had existed before. Her look of absolute shock was one thing, but her question of “are you turning into a Buddha??” made me laugh.
From then on I have been in utter confusion about many things. For a very long time I was into the Christianity thing. To have the belief helped me make sense of many things happening in my life. It was comforting to rely on something bigger than me to be the cause of whatever goes on in the universe. It was helpful to believe that when things didn’t go my way it was because it wasn’t in God’s ultimate detailed plan of my life. I therefore accepted some let downs (not easily I might add, but with assurance that it was for a reason). I don’t know now. I do believe we as humans are created by something, and not just an accident. The world is far too complex to have just happened. I don’t know if it’s God or not. I still believe in God, but my faith is little. Many times prayers go unanswered, and it just makes me wonder if events in life would happen regardless of praying or not.
t think it is ever gone for good, but here I was believing it was. I dont know what has happened, but I could slowly feel myself slipping. My psych (if Id said that to him) would ask me to say more if I said something like that, but its very hard to describe. Ever so gradually I started to separate myself from situations or emotions, and now food

visits to the psychiatrist

The day after, I had the appointment with the psychiatrist. My biggest fear was that he would think I was fat, and tell me he didn’t think I needed help. Instead, he asked probing questions, asked how I felt about certain things at certain times. Because I really want this help for myself, I want to clear these depressive thoughts, I was able to answer. Over the past year I had established many ideas on the creation and evolution of the eating disorder. They included how I wanted my own identity, how I was crying out for help, and how I needed a problem in order to handle my other problems. Interestingly enough he said similar things from what information I had given him about my life in a nutshell. He recognised that although I am an adult now, I am still trying to live out the years I missed because those years were nothing but the eating disorder. He understood that there were many conflicting issues happening in my head. There is the issue of knowing what is right for my body conflicting with the irrational need to look sick, and not be healthy. He recognized my hesitation in trusting people. This is something I had only discovered my self recently, and since then I have been even more wary of people. I explained to him how I often let people into my life, yet somehow they always let me down, and it may be that I just have too high expectations on them. I was relieved when he actually said that he could see why would feel that way. Toward the end of the session he gave a sum up of what he thinks has happened with the eating disorder. He said it has pretty much been a survival mechanism for me. Not physically of course, but more in that I relied on it to get me through problems. Rather than going through problems and becoming tangled in them, I became blind to them and fell to the eating disorder. His goal for me is to create other means in which to handle life, and to sort out the conflicts in my mind.
The second visit
I know he’s a good psychiatrist because it’s the second visit and the second time I have left there feeling depressed. May not sound like a good thing, but it is because it means I am talking about issues that have really bothered me. It took one and a half hours to drive home (because the place is so far away) and I think I cried for most of it.
He mentioned this time my intuition (last week) that the problem was due to feelings I had in my childhood, and he is willing to work with that. This means that for the first time I am being honest in how I felt growing up. And how I felt was lonely. I know that hardly anyone has it easy, and my story is probably a bed of roses compared to others. But it’s not that that counts, it’s how we react in situations, and how we perceived them that matters. As I mentioned before, Mim and I had two completely different perceptions of growing up. We both saw each other as the dream child and as the one mum favoured. I couldn’t see then what mum was really giving me because I guess I had different needs and I could only see that those needs weren’t being filled.
I tend to look for those needs in other people and in other relationships. The psychiatrist pointed out that I often get to a stage in a relationship (friend or other) and I no longer know where my boundaries are. I have a need to be accepted but am unsure how to do that. So I start out the relationship by giving and giving parts of myself and always surrendering to the other person. Then there comes a time when I realise I have needs in this relationship to but don’t know how to get these needs fulfilled. Generally I revert back to the eating disorder because it is the one way to be noticed, then from there I fear I have gone to far and start to distance myself from those people.
Trip 5 to the Psych
I can finally say I am getting somewhere in all of this. I am expressing feelings and events that I have never really felt comfortable before in dealing with. To start this mim and I had one of our best conversations over the past weekend, about mum. Both of us withheld tears as we remembered things that bothered us. A few nights before this I heard the dog running up the stairs (where I am living). The sound was exactly like the noise mum made when she fell over at nights times because she had had too much to drink. It was a pitiful situation, and initially we fell for it and ran to her rescue. In the end it was frustrating, and I felt such an inner anger towards her for doing this. Mim agreed. She recalled endless nights sitting in the lounge room watching television. We were home because we couldn
Talking about this to the psych, and about how I am today I can almost make a connection. It is an ongoing joke here at home about me always being out. I can
t be satisfied if a havent got a week planned of nights out. A night sitting at home freaks me out to some extent. If I choose to have a night off I can be happy with that, because it is something I want to do. Sometimes I just need to stop and recharge. But other times it is this inner drive to always be doing something. I feel guilty if I am just sitting in my room watching television. I feel as though I need to justify what I am doing so no one thinks I am lazy. Its like being in my room is a bad thing because thats how I felt when I was younger. I could never feel comfortable just going into my room to do anything without having reason for why I am doing it. If I was to read a book in my room, it was questioned. Even if I just wanted to sit in there it was questioned. It was almost as if we had to sit in the lounge room because mum wanted and needed our company. s a weird feeling that I have all of these angry and upset emotions over just these things when Mim is fine with it all. The psych identified that there is still a part of me that needs to grow and find out who I am because I wasnt able to do that as a child or teenager. He could clearly see how strongly I felt about all of this and how lost I am now because I just didnt know how to break away and become my own person. There is more to me, but I dont know how to find it. I am afraid about exploring that because I dont know even what I am looking for but I just know part of me is missing.
t go out, if we did go out there was a guilt trip placed over us. Mim always sat so still, never complained about it. I was always so restless, knowing I could be out doing something. I never sat still, always complained how bored I was. I find out now that Mim hated it as much as I did, except she was able to lose herself in a little dream world and accept it for what it was.


Everything is great…I have a great life. I am fortunate to have a job, to have a new car. I have freedom allowing me to go on great holidays, to go out late at night. I live with a caring wonderful family. And most of all I have my family (Mim, James, Courtney, and Jesse) who if I didn’t have, I wouldn’t bother about life anymore.
I don’t understand how I can be so lucky to have such a life yet still feel crap about it. I am living, yet still haunted by this eating disorder. It’s not even so much the eating now though, it’s this inner drive to be loved and accepted.
Last week I arrived home from my Christmas holiday with Mim, and was greeted with an empty house as the family had gone to Queensland. I hated it. Most people enjoy being alone, but it freaks me out. Not that I am scared of being alone, it’s more the loneliness side of things. I know I am not being abandoned, yet I can’t help but fear that I have been left on my own.

just when you think it's over

I was having an absolute ball in life. Everything was going great. (Well sort of…work was getting to a stressful point, and I almost resigned.) My friend Deb came down to visit for 5 weeks from Byron Bay. We were practically joined at the hip, with two other guys Mark and Ken. Us four hung out nearly every second night until all hours of the morning eating, talking, laughing. I felt normal and accepted. I travelled back up to Byron with Deb and her daughter, spending only one week there. Admittedly it was one of the best holidays I have had. After such a stressful time at work it was much needed. It made me realise that most things that happen in life are our own choices. Here I was thinking I was stuck in a hole at work, with no way out. I was paranoid that everyone in the work place hated me, and was so ready to leave. But really, it was my choice to stay at work, and it would only ever feel how I made it. If I felt that everyone hated me, in the end I would do things that made people hate me. If I felt people liked me then I would act accordingly. Living in Springwood, and staying at work were my choices because it was my security. I had the option to stay in Byron, or simply just not go back to work. Yet, because I need some direction in my life I need my work to keep me sane!!!
Although I had problems at work, it made me stronger in a sense. Everyone has problems with their work place, and it all depends on how you deal with. Personally I thought the eating disorder was easier, because that was my focus, and other problems went by, and I dealt with them by either starving or exercising. This time was different though. My whole problem at work was just feeling so inadequate at what I was doing. There were overall issues at the centre, and being an emotionally reactive person I blamed all those issues on myself and was paranoid that the staff were attacking me personally. I started becoming distant from the staff because I was so afraid that they hated me, and I couldn’t handle that rejection. I tried avoiding work, calling in sick quite often for a period of a week (which is a lot for me!!!). I was absolutely sure that they were all relieved when I didn’t come in because they wouldn’t have me bossing them around and making it all stressful for them. Funnily enough I didn’t worry about what the children thought. I knew they liked me and trusted me, and I felt the same way about the parents. The trip to Byron really helped de-stress me, and I totally relaxed. I managed to get back to work and see things for how they really were. Admittedly there were issues with myself that I had to deal with (like communicating with staff), which would help the workplace. There were then the problems of the centre overall, which was not my own fault. I didn’t cause these problems, but I could help fix them. I dealt with (well still dealing with) the paranoia about staff hating me, but at least I got through it without resorting to the eating disorder.
I thought that the whole eating disorder had just about vanished by now. I barely threw up food, I was definitely off laxatives, and I was eating breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday. It wasn’t until the last few weeks that I had a pregnancy scare and became extremely stressed and completely lost my appetite. It was a deliberate act with no intention of relationship at all. It’s not until after the act, that I realise how stupid I was for being so careless. It didn’t only happen once that weekend though. It was twice, but the second time was with a different person. The moment we met up I knew we weren’t going to be discussing anything. We had unprotected sex twice that night, then decided we should never do anything like it again and remain as friends. Strangely enough we were never friends from the beginning. I made it clear to him when I first met him that I didn’t like him. One year later I am worried that I will have a baby to him. A million thoughts went through my head a day about what I would do if I was pregnant. Having just bought a new car that weekend, I was unsure on the finance side of things. The thought that I probably liked the most was if I had a baby it would be something I could love and take care of. At the end of the day I was very relieved when I got my period.
With all of that, I barely ate a thing in the last two weeks. The thought of even breakfast made me nearly throw up. I completely turned off coffee, tea, and even chocolate. As ironic as it may sound but I was so frustrated that I wasn’t hungry. Then at times when I was hungry I could never identify what I actually felt like eating. The less I ate then, the more I enjoyed not eating. That is until it took its toll the other night. The evening of the Christmas Pageant I was singing in was on, I started feeling extremely ill. I assumed it was because of my period, so I took some Panadol. I felt worse and worse as the night progressed, and could not stop vomiting. Late in the night I asked Jane to take me to the hospital because I could no longer stand the pain. My throat was burning from all the stomach acid, and my arms and face were feeling numb. Jane rushed me down to the hospital, where I was put in intensive care for the whole night. A series of blood tests was done to identify what type of virus it was, but nothing showed up. I was hooked up to a drip to get fluids into me, and it also had some sort of drug that was meant to make the pain go away, but it didn’t. My urine was tested and came up showing high ketone levels (not quite sure what it means, but something to do with not eating). After that, my heart rate was tested and it came up as low as 45 beats/minute. With the results of both of these tests the nurse became cluey, and questioned Jan about my eating habits. She told Jane that with results like these it is often linked to an eating disorder, and that is what is causing the stomach pain and vomiting. She stated that if I didn’t fix myself up soon, then it would be a re-occurring illness, getting worse and worse each time. It was a wake up call if ever I needed one.
I have been referred to a psychiatrist in two weeks time. I am kind of scared, but relieved at the same time. The counsellor I was seeing was great for the time, but I really feel I am ready to move to more in depth help.
I can honestly say it is a shock that it is all happening now. Here I thought it was all behind me and just a story to tell, but it’s still going. I am really having to make a conscious effort to eat and drink these days though. I really hate eating at the moment. Jane is doing her best encouraging me to eat. She will even tick off on the food pyramid daily, to see if I have eaten enough in all the five food groups. So far in 5 days I have not filled one pyramid. Looking at it in a sensible way I know I should have each food group ticked, with the right amount of servings from each group. That would mean my body is at least healthy. But I can’t help feeling scared that one day the boxes will all be ticked. At the moment for me it means I have eaten too much. I know it’s the anorexic talk, but I don’t have the energy to fight it.

is there an end?

At times I wonder if there is an end to it
In ways I feel as though I have fallen into this deep hole that I know I can get out of but I’m not so sure how to get out. Occasionally my fingers grip the edges and I am coming out of it, but then I realise it’s only external out of this hole. I am only touching happiness with my fingertips, and when they slip so does the happiness.
I went to visit Mim a few weeks ago up home. She had read this up to, I think, the beginning of this year. We had a discussion about the things I had written. She wasn’t very happy with a lot of it, claiming a lot of what I had written wasn’t as bad as I made it to be. It may not have been, but as we are different people she can’t assume that I feel the same as her about all things. What she found hard to grasp was the fact that although she thought she knew me so well, I in fact was keeping so many secrets from her. I can only apologise for that now, but in order to feed my own disease I needed to keep things in secret and pretend I was getting better. I never realised how much I could actually hurt those around me, but I did, and bad too. It actually cuts deep inside how much I hurt the, especially mum and Mim. I was so engrossed in myself that I never gave thought to those close to me. The only thoughts were “they are trying to make me eat” or “why can’t they just leave me alone”. Mim moved out of home so I assumed mum had no idea of my eating patterns. The nights she cried to me I thought she was just drunk. Mim informed me that day we talked, that mum was crying for me. She felt helpless, yet I thought she was only hopeless. There’s not much I can do about that now except pray that mum knows I wasn’t trying to distress her, or put her through pain. I am too scared at the moment to let go of that feeling though. I can’t say in a prayer out loud how I feel because I don’t want to know how I will feel. All I know is that I was only trying to hurt me, and unfortunately others got damaged in the process.
My mother was someone who cared deeply for me. Yet through my own selfishness I could never see that. I was looking through dark coloured glasses as I grew up, so what I have written is how I perceived things. I can’t say whether it is right or wrong, but I know that Mim has a different perspective on how things happened.
That’s the thing with life…no two events are ever perceived the same by anybody. Fear and anxiety are the emotional or felt reactions to our perception of life events.
Our personalities often are linked to how we see things and react to things. I discovered my temperament type and was not shocked at all. It clearly reflected all of my behaviours…analytical, self-disciplined, gifted, moody (extremely), self-centred, touchy, revengeful, critical, quiet, organised, practical, indecisive, fearful, worrier. A lot of the characteristics I wish I could change, and now that I am aware of them I can change!!!