On the eighth day of Christmas, the ED gave to me...

... "Eight billion snowflakes falling"...


It was Ben's birthday, a couple of days before Christmas 2009. We'd been to the cinema followed by a (reasonably stress-free) curry and were driving back home. The snow was falling thick and fast, and eventually my sister's car got stuck, so she had to drop us off several streets away. This meant making our way through deep snow back to our house.

A white Christmas is extremely rare in our part of England, so it was extra-special - trudging up the middle of the silent street past house after house of twinkling Christmas lights.

The only person that wasn't instantly transported into magical child-like memories of Christmas past was Ben. That's because ED kind of numbs your positive emotions. He was desperate to feel "Christmassy", but couldn't feel a thing. It was as if his brain was anesthetized.

At the height of the eating disorder, Ben couldn't feel emotions like love, happiness or pleasure. He was completely numb.

And, because of what the eating disorder was doing to Ben and our family life, I found it hard to get into the Christmas spirit, too.

That year I didn't send any Christmas cards. I didn't feel like cooking Christmas dinner, so my sister offered to do it instead.

I simply went through the motions because 'that was expected'.

But that night, walking home in the deep snow, peeking into houses decked with holly and twinkling lights, I did feel Christmassy.

For a little while anyway.

Before the ED swooped in to ruin our Christmas Eve.