Leanne Waters

I’ve been inundated with lovely emails and messages since my appearance on The Saturday Night Show over the weekend. I’d like to say thank you all so much for your kind words. However, there is a little bit of a backlog to work through now and if you could please be patient, I will of course reply to them all asap! Thank you again and if you missed the interview, be sure to catch it on the RTE Player (link below). 

With love, Leanne xxxx

Catch the interview (approx 17mins in) HERE:

http://www.rte.ie/player/#!v=1148207

Knowing what’s left to say about my eating disorder is as definitive as a tide washing up on the shore. Some days, I feel as if I have talked myself dry of all feeling, all history and all connections to who I was when I suffered with bulimia nervosa. And then there always comes a point when past and present get confused again and who I was then by contrast to who I suppose myself to be now become uncomfortably mingled with one another. I suppose this is the difficulty when you’re “post-recovery” from an eating disorder; always pushing to escape it and yet still living in fear that if you get complacent, it will undoubtedly make a vicious return once more. Or maybe I’m just too scared to accept that I’m fully recovered. If I do, it means I’ve let go of an intricate – albeit horrid and destructive – part of who I am. I’m scared to do that, mostly because I’m still searching for the person who was hidden beneath my bulimia for so long. That, or else I’m not looking to resurrect myself; I’m looking to create myself all over again.

My bulimia consumed me to a point where reality and illusion had become a toxic concoction that guided my life and the decisions I made. Everything I did – the fasting, the binging, the purging, the seclusion, the constant self-condemnation – had a goal, a purpose. That purpose was to fuel the psychological leech that was my illness. Now, objective is mine alone to create. The purpose my life has now is whatever I give it. Reassuringly – thank God – though this is a daunting realisation, it’s also a liberal one. The choice of deciding what gives my life meaning and how to productively accomplish that meaning is more liberating than my bulimia ever was. Whereas, I sought relief via purging and fasting, that same need is now catered to in the form of overcoming daily challenges, accomplishing life-long goals, stabilising the self I had denied for so long up until this point. More than any of this, relief comes in the faces of loved ones. The guilt that once burdened me, as a result of all the pain I caused them, has subsided and nearly disappeared. They know the truth. I know the truth. And miraculously, life has gone on. The past is our tool to work towards a better future. As humans, I guess that’s all we can do.

This is all terribly simple isn’t it? Get sick, get help and get better. Then you’ll be happy. Well, not quite. For me, it was more than just getting help. What a lot of my own recovery came down to was a conscious investment in myself. I invested in my emotions with the ambition of taking care of them, being sensible with them and sensitive to them. I invested in my thought-processes; how I interpreted the world, broke information down and consequently what about that process had to be changed to bring me to a new point of understanding and a new method of coping with it all. I invested in my past and brought to light old wounds that had been previously buried beneath years of unbearable rubble. Only in doing so could I finally be free of them and the pain such memories caused. What all this sums up to is essentially this notion of redirection. I didn’t change myself. I redirected myself. My bulimia had been a coping mechanism by which I could feel normal. Today, I would probably say that normality is an idealistic horizon line that, as we approach it, gets further and further away. Surely, the dynamics that conduct our multi-faceted society are too rigorous for such a word to even exist anymore?

Yet here so many of us still are, starving ourselves, purging ourselves of illusionistic sin and abusing the natural order of our own birth right. It’s not our fault. This, I maintain fervently. The conscious evolution of society has strayed from the unconscious evolution of nature. Whereas once the celebration of the feminine figure was dominant in our glorious culture, now the average woman is bombarded with skeletal images and apparent ideals. And let’s not even get into the steroid-pumped, must-see-every-muscle pressures that men are faced with. Personally, I’d take a love-handled Jason Segel or Vince Vaughn any day. But hey, each to their own. The point I’m making here is that we have surely gone starkly against the natural order. What our biology determines as attractiveness and what contemporary fashion industries are trying to convince us is the ideal are two very different things. On this matter, I’m finally starting to give the ‘beauty’ machine a kick up the backside and trust what Mother Nature has herself ordained.

All a bit too heavy for you? Well, yes, sometimes it gets a bit heavy for me too. At the end of the day, I’m a 21-year-old girl living just outside Dublin. To say that I’ve done a 180 degree flip from bulimia to entirely embracing who I am would be a lie. So let’s just skip the facade and get down to the nitty-gritty. Nothing has called my confidence in how I look, how much I weigh and the value of my own self worth more into question than the publication of my eating disorder in my memoir My Secret Life. Indeed, there were nights writing that book when I thought I could surely never escape the trap of regression. I don’t believe I have ever cried so much in my life as when I had to document every dark and perhaps even disgusting crevice of the life I have lived. Yet, I feel it was necessary. If not for my own mental well-being, then just for the sake of someone somewhere putting a face and voice to bulimia and thereafter being convinced that it’s not in fact something to be ashamed of.

Irish people have been historicised terribly, haven’t we? Our mothers told us as children not to ‘air our dirty laundry out in public’ and worse still, good old Sigmund Freud even went as far to declare that ‘this is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever’. Well sorry Doc, but I beg to differ. Two things, my dear reader: firstly, psychoanalysis has been key in my battle against bulimia and without it, I would surely have been weapon-less; secondly, ‘airing my dirty laundry out in public’ has set me free. I am no longer under the burdening constraint of secrecy. I no longer deny all that I am – for better or worse. In short, I am at liberty to be post-bulimic and as much woman, daughter, sister, friend, student, lover and writer as I ever was. Even more so than before, I daresay. Knowing, accepting and loving everything about yourself is quite possibly our most powerful means of surviving the matrix of life and what’s more, enjoying the bloody thing.

And so, the big question: with the secrecy and shame of an eating disorder and being mentally unwell finally lifted, how do people treat me differently? They don’t. End of. While I fretted over the relationships and social impressions that would surely change forever, they haven’t and I am who I have always been to them. Nothing more, nothing less. If anything, my heart has been filled with words of utter encouragement, support and at times admiration, which you can imagine has humbled me tremendously. The people who have shared their own stories with me since the time of that publication have reminded me that we are all one and the same; all flawed, all wounded and all merely looking for that divine happiness in our own lives.

This kind of search is never-ending and now that I no longer consider myself defined solely under my own bulimia, it continues forthright. I am not a bulimic writer, bulimic student or bulimic woman. I am a person who has suffered with bulimia, may suffer with it again and stands audacious in the face of anything that dares threaten my mighty pursuit of happiness. We are all darkness, we are all light, we are all failure, we are all success, we are all weakness and we are all strength. Without these things, we are not all-human. My bulimia is who I was and my recovery is who I am. I am as I am and I’m not ashamed. Nothing could be more beautiful.

‘Let the darkness out and let the light in.’

To see the original blog, please visit the See Change website at: http://www.seechange.ie/index.php/blog/294-guest-blog-i-am 

Writing is an ever-ongoing learning curb. Words are evolutionary in their meaning, delivery and need for skill and craftsmanship. As such, only through reading can we later hope to write and write well. Whether it is fiction, poetry or in my case an autobiography such as My Secret Life, the importance of language and the perfect execution of the right word at the right time, forming an immaculate sentence in the given context, is more than merely a talent; it is a life-long study. And what’s more – for me – writing is, in its own way, the one true love of my life. Naturally, it took a great deal of reading and a great deal of my own horrendous writing to feel this way. As I get older, my love affair with words and language continues to grow strong. Thus, it always pulls on my own heartstrings to reminisce on words that have inspired me. And as it’s only right to share, here are just some of my all-time favourite literary quotes. I hope they inspire you as much as they have always inspired me. To the masters:

Leanne Waters, Author

“Did he then love the rhythmic rise and fall of words better than their associations of legend and color? Or was it that, being as weak of sight as he was shy of mind, he drew less pleasure from the reflection of the glowing sensible world through the prism of a language manycolored and richly storied than from the contemplation of an inner world of individual emotions mirrored perfectly in a lucid supple periodic prose?” - A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce

“With a supreme act of will springing from the essence of his being, he turned away from his life and the long train of disastrous consequences that had flowed from it and looked wistfully upon the dark face of ancient waters upon which some spirit had breathed and created him, the dark face of the waters from which he had been first made in the image of a man with a man’s obscure need and urge; feeling that he wanted to sink back into those waters and rest eternally.” - Native Son, Richard Wright

“I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion. Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence – whether much that is glorious- whether all that is profound – does not spring from disease of thought – from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil.” - Eleonora, Edar Allan Poe

“I’d have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms piled with books, and I’d write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie’s music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle – something heroic, or wonderful – that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but I’m on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream.”- Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

“All greatness of character is dependent on individuality. The man who has no other existence than that which he partakes in common with all around him, will never have any other than an existence of mediocrity” - James F. Cooper

“I was in my own room as usual – just myself without obvious change: nothing had smitten me, or scathed me, or maimed me…Jane Eyre, who has been an ardent, expectant woman – almost a bride – was a cold, solitary girl again: her life was pale; her prospects were desolate…I looked at my love…it shivered in my heart, like a suffering child in a cold cradle…Mr. Rochester was not to me what he had been, for he was not what I had thought him. I would not ascribe vice to him; I would not say he had betrayed me but the attribute of stainless truth was gone from his idea; and from his presence I must go, that I perceived well.” – Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

“But that is not the question. Why are we here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come.” - Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett

“Torvald has his pride – most men have – he’d be terribly hurt and humiliated if he thought he’d owed anything to me. It’d spoil everything between us, and our lovely happy home would never be the same again.” – A Doll’s House, Henrik Ibsen

“It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the revolution of sentiment in this rural vicinity belongs to one of the most obvious features of the human mind. The rudest exhibition of art is at first admired, till a nobler is presented, and we are taught to wonder at the facility with which before we had been satisfied.” – Caleb Williams, William Godwin

~ Leanne

My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia is AVAILABLE NOW in all leading bookstores in Ireland, as well as on E-book all over the world. It is also available to order online from Amazon, Maverick House and other online services.

Public Email: leannefwaters@gmail.com

Please direct all inquiries about interviews and appearances to:
Maverick House Publishers,
Office 19, Dunboyne Business Park, Dunboyne,
Co. Meath,
Ireland
+ 353 1 825 5717

Since the release of My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia, I have been graced with words from various people around the world. It shocks me still to know that there are so many others currently enduring that which I have detailed in my aforementioned title. My perceptions on my past are ever-changing as time goes on and as I grow. Some days, I find myself frustrated and angry with the issues that plagued my young life. Other days, I feel ready to reconcile both with the past and the person that has been formed as a result of it. But neither is a permanent fixture and I can only push as hard as possible for the latter.

While writing this book, I had hoped to touch into more than just what an eating disorder is; I sought to understand myself and analyze the facets that have proved so monumental in my life: bullying, self-worth, my relationship with God, humiliation, body-image, romantic relationships and the idiosyncrasies of my childhood.

Along with these things, I hoped to touch on the presence of the western media. While I have found liberation on a personal level with so many things in my life, this remains something I simply cannot escape. None of us can apparently. It’s on our television screens 24/7 and proving a worrying powerful force in our everyday lives. It’s shoved down our throats in music videos, magazines, newspapers, advertisements, fashion and all the everyday TV shows telling us how to ‘dress to impress’, ‘beat the bulge’ and ‘make an impression with show-stopping make-up’.

My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia

Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m all for looking my best and what’s more, being the best me I can possibly be. But is this really what the media are asking of us? It seems not lately. The size zero culture has not only gripped our contemporary society but is steering it down a detrimental path. I worry for future youths as exposure to such ‘ideals’ becomes more and more ostentatious. All it can surely succeed in creating is a generation of anorexics, bulimics and people doubting who they are against the might of the beauty machine of western culture.

In the face of prescribed perfection – and by perfection, I mean that 10% of individuals who strut catwalks and are thus determined to be the epitome of what we should look like and how we should behave – I wonder if we are risking the magnificence of the individual for a now unattainable status-quo? With so much importance being placed on aesthetics, we could well be losing sight of the best parts of the human condition: passions, creativity, a need to explore and learn and teach, kindness, ambition, empathy and understanding.

Okay, I’m sure I sound like I’m preaching now. But as we approach the holiday season and we’ll soon all be contending with our belts getting that bit tighter, perhaps it couldn’t do any harm just to bear these things in mind. I may be a recovering bulimic, but I am still a 21-year-old woman. And like all women my age, I feel the pressure of keeping up appearances and not over-indulging during the holidays. And like all women my age, I probably will do so anyway, promising myself that the New Year will bring some form of reformation and redemption.

Pre-New Year’s resolution? Relax, Leanne. You’d rather be indulgent and jolly than dieting and miserable. I have been blessed this season. I’ve had the opportunity to document my struggles in a memoir, thus emancipating myself from the pain they carry (Apparently it took bulimia and going to hell and back just to get me to enjoy my Christmas turkey and be comfortable with all my own wobbly bits and curves). What’s more, I’m spending this Christmas doing what I love: writing. The novel takes its turns – sometimes slow and sometimes practically writing itself. Nevertheless, as the snow starts hitting, I am grateful to be working from home, enjoying the company of the people who make me most happy and more than anything else, I’m grateful to be at liberty to truly enjoy the indulgent nature of this time of year and quite simply…. switch my blasted television OFF. Sorry size zero, you’re not on the Christmas card list. I want more than you this Christmas and more for myself forever.

~Leanne

My Secret Life is AVAILABLE NOW in all leading bookstores in Ireland, as well as on E-book all over the world. It is also available to order online from Amazon, Maverick House and other online services.

Public Email: leannefwaters@gmail.com

Please direct all inquiries about interviews and appearances to:
Maverick House Publishers,
Office 19, Dunboyne Business Park, Dunboyne,
Co. Meath,
Ireland
+ 353 1 825 5717

Since the release of my first title, My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia, I have seen the powers of the Irish media in full force and doing – to say the very least – a stand-up job. In matters such as eating disorders and more generally mental health in Ireland, the media have extraordinary influence and can stand to illuminate an otherwise in-the-dark public about these issues. In my case, the media in Ireland have been almost flawless in the their determination to spread the word about My Secret Life and the matter of eating disorders in this country. Whether on a national or local level, I would like to extend a most sincere thank you to every publication, newspaper, radio station and television programme who have thus far extended their powers in communication to myself and so many others struggling with an eating disorder. Thank you to:

• John Mooney and Maverick House Publishers
• The Irish Mail on Sunday
• The Evening Herald
• The Irish Independent (Saturday & Sunday)
• The Bray People
• The Irish Catholic
• The University Observer
• Ireland AM, TV3
• The John Murray Show, RTE Radio 1
• The Tom Dunne Show, Newstalk FM
• The Gerry Kelly Show, LMFM
• U105 Ulster Radio
• SPIN 103.8
• Stellar Magazine
• Grainne Seoige’s Modern Life, RTE 2
• The Irish Daily Star
• The Irish Sun
• The Shaun Doherty Show, Highland Radio 103.3

You have given a voice to an otherwise silent facet of our Irish society.

~ Leanne

For information on all my media appearances, click onto the Facebook and Twitter pages, where I give frequent updates and links to all newspaper, radio and television appearances.

Public Email: leannefwaters@gmail.com

Please direct all inquiries about interviews and appearances to:Maverick House Publishers,Office 19, Dunboyne Business Park, Dunboyne,Co. Meath,Ireland+ 353 1 825 5717

My story has been one of repeated triumph and failure. Each has been as prominent in my life as the other, serving to produce a concoction of highs and lows, laughter and tears and the scariest roller-coaster ride that has spanned these last four years. In four years, I have gone from being a high-achiever, who was well liked and had everything going for her to a depressed, suicidal and seemingly hopeless bulimic. From there, my life became all work in the form of university studies, my personal development and writing a memoir. This was my personal hibernation. And now that I am here – published, happy and pushing on towards the future – I realise that I have come full circle. If you are one of those lucky people in the world who fortune has graced, perhaps you have arrived to this place without much turmoil. In this case, I am so thoroughly happy for you. But if, like me, you have done loops and turns over and over again just to get here, let’s congratulate ourselves on simply surviving it all. I am not writing to boost my own ego or that of anyone else; I write now instead merely to mark a new phase in the chronology of my life and my ongoing story. I am alive and what’s more, I’m actually living.e

The launch of my book, My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia took place on Tuesday last, November 1st 2011 in the Dublin Book shop on Grafton Street. For me, to say it was a success was an understatement. The night was a pleasant array of old faces and new. I was more nervous than I can say. When the time came to say a few words to all who attended, my knees were clattering off one another and a lump formed in my throat at the sight of their ever-supporting eyes. That is to say, I was moved beyond all recognition. My life – and in particular, my life of the last four years – had always been leading to that point (no matter how many diversions I seemed to take!). And I can only say how extraordinarily happy I was to be able to share it with people who have graced my very existence with their mere presence.

I am a lucky person in a great many ways, more than I could ever express. And as I move on-wards and upwards in my professional and personal pursuits, I do so with the utmost humility, humbleness and irrevocable gratitude. I have taken a leave of absence from my studies and have routed myself on a highway of what I hope is full of creativity and growth. I have begun my first fiction novel and already – as with all things we undertake in life – my perceptions of this complicated world are changing yet again. Good Lord, I don’t think the learning curb is ever meant to stop. Let’s hope not.

The issue of destiny is a complicated one, like everything else apparently. Whether it is something set out for us or something we create and build ourselves is completely yours to decide. It makes no difference to me either way, because regardless of whether I chose this path or it was given to me, I’m just happy to be on it. And what’s more, I can see it now clearer than ever before. My path is set. And while I begin the closing down process of this chapter in my life, naturally I start a new one with full hope, ambition, determination and unrestrained gusto! I can only see so far ahead and to be honest, I don’t think I’d like to see much more. For now, I am happy and that’s enough.

Huge thank you to Maverick House Publishers, John Mooney, Fiona Lacey, my family, my friends, everyone who has bought my memoir, everyone who has inspired me over the years and of course, to all the media outlets who have taken heed of my story and sought to spread its message. And to all still suffering, you’re always in my prayers. I have one message to you: hope.

~ Leanne

My Secret Life: A Memoir of Bulimia is now available to buy in all leading bookshops in Ireland. It is also available on Ebook all around the world or to order from Amazon, Maverick House and other online services.

The Evening Herald, October 31st 2011

The Sunday Independent, November 6th 2011

The Sunday Independent, November 6th 2011

The Irish Mail on Sunday, October 30th 2011

The Irish Mail on Sunday, October 30th 2011

The Dublin Bookshop (Dubray) window display, Grafton Street, Dublin

When I first arrived in Vietnam, my own arrogance inhibited my ability to predict the very weighty effects the country itself would have on me. After all, I had traveled before, had seen poverty in all its extremities, had tested my body physically (as is required I am told for the sake of mental flourishing) and surely, had already met the greatest of people. Nam wasn’t going to have a scratch on me, I was sure of it.

Hoi An, Vietnam

The ‘traveling bug’, which we have all heard of so many times before is just an idea we are aware of when in the complacency of our own homes. It is only when we actual make that definitive trip that such a disease becomes reality. You catch it like you catch a common cold in winter. And by God, I caught it this time round!

In many ways, I suppose it’s a trap you fall into while away. The given destination initially presents itself as a temporary escapist route, which you have surely earned for one reason or another. And yet, when cast under its spell, a profound trick is played. Said destination seduces you into believing that your escapist environment is in fact a reality to which you could commit yourself fully. In this way, I abandoned almost everything I had left behind in Dublin. I had little interest in them anymore because Vietnam was far too beautiful to wish for anything that could be offered outside of its golden cocoon. But I think travel itself, no matter where the place, has that effect on people anyway. I was living in paradise and a lifestyle too simple to allow struggles of the past to infect its splendour. That’s why it’s wonderful though, right? Because everything of who you were and the life you lead back home is thrown by the wayside and forgotten at too rapid a pace to care for why it now means so little. It was just too easy to forget everything back home. So forget I did.

Taking such trips, I believe, also encourages you to see the best of people at times. For a start, the Vietnamese as a society are the most gentle, docile and accommodating people I have ever come across. They made it impossible to want to come back. But more than this, the conversations I had with other travelers and the camaraderie felt between us all on our journeys was something that could not be found in any circumstance but the given. As travelers, we convince ourselves of our own worldly enlightenment and worse still, feed off one another on the matter. Sure, it can only prove to heighten the hazy ecstasy of your trip, but will undoubtedly make the return journey all the more depressing. Never a good thing when you don’t have a choice in the matter!

I met two other globe-trotters while away who have had more of an impact on me than I believe anyone has had in years. The first was a 73-year-old man from Belgium that I met in Hanoi in Northern Vietnam. He partook in a three-day trip to Halong Bay in which I had the absolute pleasure of his company and many wise words. How very cliche, I know but it’s the truth. An educated man who spoke fluently in five different languages, he was traveling alone and doing the same route I had just finished in reverse. His youngest child was 20-years-old and the man himself never failed to make friends along the way. I wouldn’t dare so much as attempt to convey the wise words he passed along to us all on that trip, as to do so would surely be inadequate and thus undermine the weight with which they were first delivered. All I will say of him is that this man simply astounded me and I am sure of the fact that I will remember him for years to come.

The second was a teacher from Leeds, with whom I shared a hostel in Hoi An and was fortunate enough to meet again up the north of the country. Remarkably sharp-minded and utterly charming, he showed a substance to his character that I have yet to see in any other person I have met. He was the most alluring of persons with a shrewdness so penetrating I many times thought I would crumble during our midnight conversations – carried out always on a Hoi An balcony and after a few Tiger beers. My time spent with this teacher remains the nostalgic inspiration for my regular day dreams and indeed, holds a most special place in my memories.

I spent some time in Thailand on the usual beaten track of Bangkok and the islands. My older brother has raved about these places since he himself traveled there almost ten years ago. What he described to me then and what I myself discovered are two very different things. But then, I suppose a lot of time has passed and it has changed greatly. Thailand was an incredible place; a bit of a rush if I’m being honest. But I dread to think what we will have done to the place in another ten year’s time. Equally, I’m afraid to think what will happen to my beautiful Vietnam in years to come. That haven, which I escaped to at such a young age will surely be unrecognisable in time. I’d hate to think of it changing at all.

So I’ll keep it has I have found it; my Vietnam.

And in doing so, will never alter the very pristine picture of its memory in my mind. I can’t escape the reality of being home but at the very least, will be obscured from that inevitable truth. I found it terribly difficult coming home again. On this, my friend reminded me that such trips were ‘a fantasy’ and that I had to let it go now. This is the problem with traveling – after the long journey hours, the incredible sights, the precious experiences and all the amazing people you find along the way – sooner or later, we all have to leave. The circus finishes, the fantasy fades and eventually, we must all return to the lives we left behind. It has been a very hard goodbye.

- Leanne

“Names get carved in the red oak tree of the ones who stay and the ones who leave. I will wait for you there with these cindered bones. So follow me, follow me down”

Halong Bay, Vietnam