How to do it all...

(but actually not at all)

Get up at 5:30am, healthy vegan breakfast, get to an exercise class that looks so hard I might die, get a photo, go to castings, work, more healthy food, writing, creating, more exercise, charity something, drinks somewhere really nice (but your cocktail is still green and looks like it has more nutrients in it than my dinner), home, yoga with candles, time with hot topless housemate and best friend DONE. 

A well meaning friend recently summarised my life as such, in a joking, loving, ‘you’re ridiculous’ kinda of way (I hope!) But is this the unreal reality that I’m striving to portray? Because, well, that’s most DEFINITELY not where I am or how I feel, in fact, felt a little at sea without a paddle as of late…there, I admitted it. 

I spend time looking at perfect humans managing to do all the things and wondering…why am I just not measuring up? This isn’t a new narrative, we are all aware (unless you literally live under a rock) of the ridiculous amount of time we spend on social media and how that is effecting our mental health, political choices, food choices (you name it, it effects it). And I’m not against social media, don’t get me wrong, but I mean, it sure as hell feeds into the endless quest to reach stratospheric ideals of perfection I already set myself. And I know I am not the only one. This last week I’ve seen people I really respect who to my eyes TOTALLY have their shit together question themselves and whether they can do anything. To me this is mind boggling. They said it and my mouth literally opened like a codfish in shock. To me these were wonder women, but we all feel it. Society has set the benchmark at perfection and part of the deal is that we are There’s definitely been a change, people admitting they aren’t perfect all the time, but where’s the evidence?!  

So it was as I was walking around London with Ebs yesterday (she’s the only one I’ve asked to mention so the only one who will be named!) that we both acknowledged that we are actually walking disasters a lot of the time and that’s kinda okay. Ebs had a bit of an existential ‘will I ever we successful or will I live with my grandmother for the rest of my life?’ crisis a couple of weeks back (for more info, read HER blog – I got ya girl), truth is, these aren’t uncommon, we all get them ESPECAILLY ACTORS who have no idea of when we will get our next job or where it will be or if we will ever work again…fantastic. 

So, to go back to my day to day, I very much wish I WERE Wonder Woman. I try to do all the things. I am constantly striving for a level of perfection that is totally unobtainable. I want to be the woman in my photos. And I am, sometimes. Sometimes I feel I am totally smashing it. Other nights Ross comes home to find me crying on the floor surrounded by washing and basically puts me to bed and brings me vegan ice cream. The amount of messages he’s got this week to ask when he’s home because I’m feeling a bit rubbish, I’m freaking about my career, a boy, my body is absurd. I seem to be on a constant cycle atm of go go go BURN OUT, get sick (and like really quite sick), cry a lot, have to totally stop and reset, then start again. THIS IS NOT HEALTHY, but it’s not uncommon. Last week I hit burnout. This week I’m trying to make better choices and to learn to do it all FOR ME. So here is what I’m trying to remember: 

1.    It’s okay to say ‘no’ and you don’t always have to explain yourself. 

2.    Treat yourself as a highly value item, you set your ticket price. You can be the shiniest diamond in the World, but people will take advantage of a bargain

3.    Listen to your body and workout as it wants. I LOVE the sessions I go too and have very much found training that works for me, it’s varied from Barrys to Salsa to Jazz to Lagree, but it makes ME HAPPY. You wouldn’t catch me spinning. EVER. 

4.    It’s okay not to be okay, I wrote a whole post on this before and I will continue to try and remember it. You don’t always have to be the strong one. You cannot always fix everything. For me particularly it’s important to keep on talking about it. Admitting I’m actually feeling really negative about my body does not mean I’m relapsing into anorexia, it simply means it’s a bad moment/day/week. Pushing yourself to breaking point means you’re good for nothing!

5.    The people who are there for the moments you’re a little bit less sparkly as well as the moments everything’s going BEAUTIFULLY are the people you need around. We all need the friends who bring home vegan ice cream and tell you you’re golden. 

6.    Most of us are a little bit lost, adulting is hard and we don’t have to always be as good as our edited highlights. Opening up those conversations and realising your best friends feel like shit shows too means you can all laugh through it together and run away screaming, arms flailing in unison. 

7. Coffee helps...always.

8.    ‘It’s a marathon, not a sprint’ – Jon ALWAYS says this to me and although it makes me want to kill him and although I always tell him that actually I’m way better at sprinting, he’s got a point. Achieving all the things, whatever that looks like to you, is going to take time. Hard work pays off. And if you really like sprinting then do a little Fartlek with life and sprint when you can, but realise if you sprinted all of it you’d miss the views. 

We got this, and even if we don’t, we can all flail our arms and scream in unison. (This is actually how Ebs and I have coped thus far and it seems to work pretty well…just saying). 

We Did It!

"The sudden comprehension that you are not in control. You are its ship, once strong and fearless and headed for new and beautiful lands, now delicate and beaten. No more voyages for you my friend. The captain has driven you through too many dangerous seas for such a fragile vessel. Keep going and together you will be sunk. Dilapidated. There is no glamour once you are here. You are a we. One of a pair. Controlled by another. She befriends you slyly, like any good friend makes you feel you can trust her, makes you feel safe. Then convinces you she can make things better. You believe your beautiful heroine. Feeding off the pain of starvation she thrives, while you empty. Hollow. ‘Organs, muscles and bones’ the nice doctor says, ‘that’s all that’s left’. By this stage it’s too late for me. I have been snared. She is feasting on the heart that was once strong enough to love so many fiercely, the muscles I need to run away and the bones that are my ironic trophy, on display for all to see. I let her gorge as I wither. No choice anymore. That was the first thing she stole when she caught me. Freedom." 2012 

Graduation, a time to reflect on the past few years and take a moment to appreciate the journey. For me, it has been colossal. Rewind 4 and a half years. A ghost on a hospital wing that had become home who wanted nothing more than to shrink away to nothingness, holding onto her cage of bones for dear life. At this point I was told that I would no longer be treated for 'recovery', the hospital would bring me in when they needed to prevent loss of life. In general terms, they'd given up on me recovering and condemned me to a life of anorexia.

Today, I graduated from drama school surrounded by more love, fuelled with determination (and good food) and carving a life to be proud of.
I write all this not to brag, but because still the most commonly asked question I am sent is 'how did you do it?' I've dipped my toes in the pool of death and come close to slipping in. I've watched the waters ripple beneath me and considered that actually, they may be soothing in comparison to the burning abuse my head liked to throw at me. I've taken my body to the brink and starved it into such emaciation that even lying in bed was painful. But I rose. I've written and spoken on the subject extensively, but it's still the burning question from sufferers and those who love them. My answer as to how I got to a place where I could walk across a stage beaming and accept a diploma... I wish I could say it's easy, I wish I could say there's a magic cure or that one day you will wake up better. It's none of these things. In reality it took hard work that felt like torture a lot of the time. Imagine being told you have to do the thing that frightens you more than anything 6 times a day until you become a person you no longer recognise, that throughout this ordeal you will have someone screaming at you, telling you you're not good enough, telling you you're ugly, telling you you're worthless, telling you that if you are not the skinniest girl in any room then you've failed. In reality the process of recovery was pretty shit, BUT the constant that got me through all of this was the fact that whilst rebuilding my body and learning to eat again, I rebuilt a life I am proud of and filled it with things I love and people who make me feel loved. (Also I'm pretty sure that a consultant telling me I'm not going to get better was a large part of it, tell a stubborn high achiever that she can't do something and she'll be back doing it whilst standing on her hands with her eyes closed).

Was it worth it? Yes. There are of course moments where I flutter my hands over my hip bones, expecting to be met by the comfort of their protrusion, only to find I am lacking. But these are fewer than they were. I have wobbled this year, I won't deny that. Grief and responsibility took their unexpected toll and creating a cage of bones to numb it all for a moment seemed to be a better plan. I took another road though. I worked harder on me. I booked more theatre tickets. I made sure I spent as much time as I could doing what I love with people I love. I opened up to a select handful about what was going on, aware that they would catch me if I needed. I worked harder in rehearsals. I found comfort in moving my body from a place of love as oppose to hate. I basically found a way to dance around the rabbit hole instead of falling straight back down again. That way was living a life I love. I saw all of this not because I feel anorexia made me special or unique. One of my favourite phrases at the moment is 'we all have our drama', by this I mean we all have our things to deal with, but we cannot let them overcome us or use them as an excuse to fail or be a lesser human.

I am now onto another chapter. From leaving hospital, announcing that I'd got a place on an MT course, losing weight and having to watch dance classes, eating so I could be back up there, moving onto contemporary theatre, being given the opportunity to develop my writing with guidance from the National Theatre and finally finding the final stage of my training at Drama Studio, it's been a journey. Along the way I've found humans who will be part of my life forever, I'm about to start a theatre company with one of them, travel with others and hopefully take the stage and screen with as many of them as possible. It's been a journey of love and drama. It's been the making of me. It has transformed my from the scared little girl who was told she would probably never get better to a woman who has woven a tapestry so rich with adventure, love, creativity and laughter I don't know how to begin. Amongst the golden threads are the bad days, the troubling moments, the grief and the worry that I am not enough BUT without these moments of imperfection, how would we ever know the moments of sheer joy? It has been the mess that's allowed the beauty. The burns that have allowed fiery creation. An uncertain future once seemed the most terrifying mountain to climb, but I am excited for all that's ahead and all those I will travel this journey with. In the words of Elle Woods *we did it*. And if I can, anyone can. You've just got to be willing to fight hard and continue to rise.

What Lies Beneath

‘In the grand words of Jessie J - it’s ok not to be ok’ - a message from Ebs.


Anorexia; intwined in my history is the shadow of an emaciated girl who was told she would probably not recover. 

Maya; woven into my future is the promise of a woman who plans a life rich with my art, love and the deepest friendships, travel, music, a lot of dancing and hopefully a dog.  

But, what came between? It’s struck me lately that to many anorexia was basically just that time I got really really thin and sort of went off the rails a little (well, as off the rails as any nice girl from West London goes…sigh), but truly, anorexia was just the physical mess I created to shrink the chaos I saw in myself. So what was it? And has it truly gone away, because the story never does just go “once upon a time there was a nice little girl who went to a good school who was friends with the ‘right people’ who dated the right boys who one day woke up and thought: I am going to starve myself, that sounds fun”. Something strong fuels every eating disorder. For me, the overriding statement i’d probably choose is ‘I am not enough’. With every exam that I didn’t excel, every friend I saw as more beautiful (this felt very important back then), every time I couldn't fix a problem at home, every moment I measured myself and I came up lacking. But the main problem? I felt totally unable to express this.  

I spend a LOT of time worrying now, and panic over pretty much anything (panicker Pillay), I will fret and worry and massively catastrophize situations (even now as I write this I am thinking; Maya, you are showing people how weird you actually are, you are literally choosing to highlight your flaws, this is why you will die alone, having been blacklisted by every director in the land, with cats, even though you are a dog person). When I write it I can see it’s kinda absurd (I hope), but still. Don’t get me wrong, this tendency also serves as a good aspect of me, it means I work damn hard because basically in my mind, if I don’t, the World will probably end and it will be all my fault. However, it also nicely serves the little voice on my shoulder that will whisper maliciously ‘you are not enough’.  

I feel vaguely uncomfortable admitting to these doubts now, just like I feel uncomfortable admitting that I still cry over my body, I still hate parts of it. To me this feels like failure. I am supposed to be the strong one. Post anorexia I built an armour of ‘strong woman’ and try to live inside that as much as possible. Physically, this is a far safer place to be than in my cage of bones, but it’s probably not the best. Pre-anorexia I was also the ‘strong one’, but in a different way. Within certain aspects of my life I was the one who had her shit together. People still say it to me ‘but you were so happy’…yeah, you’re right, I was so happy I decided to try and slowly fade away to nothingness. No one happy chooses that path. Someone who is very good at hiding how they feel, yes. 

So, where am I now? Am I healed? Yes and no. I am no longer starving or living in the shadow World. There, I lacked any true happiness. My ability to laugh was stolen from me and the World resided blandly in black and white, with numbers hanging constantly in the air. Now I am here, attempting to adult. I laugh often and enjoy food. I still worry about what I eat and still worry about my body, but I am open. Those I love and who love me know the moments i’m having a wobble and now how hard some days are. I also now have the strength to be able to be there for them and I am as much as I can, I hope they know that. I love deeply, another thing that anorexia temporarily stole. I have the ability to speak to others and try to help them heal as well. I can be open about my journey. This year i’ve suffered deep loss and heart break, not in the typical or romantic sense, but in a way that has struck me deeper than any break up ever could. It was a sink or swim moment and if i’m honest, it’s challenged me. Starvation numbs pain. It also numbs joy. This year i’ve learned more than ever the value of those who have dragged me up, some i’ve known for years and some for a relatively short amount of time but whom I know will be in my life forever. I learned you need the pain to understand the joy. It taught me to be vulnerable (with a select few), I did not need to make my body vulnerable to show I was hurt. I swum, I am still swimming and in the moments it seems I can’t, I have the best life boats around.  

So, on mental health awareness week I just wanted to say to anyone who is suffering try not to mask it, you will learn from it. To those struggling with anorexia, trust the recovery process, nourish your body and I promise your soul will in time heal too. Mental ill health is not something to be ashamed of. The shame will only lead to things getting worse. Working on recovery will transform you into who you need to be. The pain will pass. The laughs will come. You will realise you are more than the gap between your legs or the cage of bones you have built. You are the stories you will tell, the lovers you will have, the ice cream you will eat, you are the adventures you will plan, the daughter who needs to be strong, the nights of hysteria, the tears you will weep, the people you will love, the home team who will drag you over the finish line, the days of theatre, the meals out, the meals in, the people you hate, the people you love, the repetitive man fuck ups that will cause your friends to groan, the moments of loneliness, the days of sheer elation, the success, the failure, the sparkle to your eyes, the passion over politics, the fights, the healing, but mostly the love. You are so much more than the gap between your thighs, just dive in and start to swim. 

ED Awareness

The Devil whispered in my ear, “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.”

Today I whispered in the Devil’s ear, “I am the storm.” 

Anorexia is a shadow that only has the power to walk a few steps behind me these days. It’s a part of my life which I am open and transparent about, however, which I often dismiss as ‘that time I decided to starve myself’. Although I will probably always joke about what happened (if you don't laugh, you cry, right?), this years theme for eating disorder awareness week is ‘Get Real’ so I thought i’d talk about what anorexia gave me and what I lost as a result of it, because although starving myself was pretty non sensical, I hope discussing the reasoning behind it will help others understand and in turn help themselves or a loved one.  

During treatment

I didn't just wake up one day and decide that I was going to starve myself down to a skeletal frame and avoid food until I was hospitalised. Those who think anorexia or any eating disorder are a conscious choice born in vain due to a pursuit of a vacuous higher beauty are, quite frankly, stupid. I didn't do it because of models in magazines (although I do not dispute that the media, Instagram included, has a lot to answer for in terms of the rise in eating disorders.) So, why? Why does an intelligent young woman with a place at a great university, a big loving friendship group, a wonderful boyfriend and a million opportunities awaiting her push herself to teeter on the fine line between life and death? The first reason; Secrets. Anorexia is an illness of secrets. I often describe the proceeding circumstances as the Wisteria Lane effect (any Desperate Housewife fans, bare with). So, theres this picture perfect house with this nuclear family. Inside that house is a daughter with a Cheshire cat smile which she slathers across her face for every photo and event. If desperate housewives taught us anything, it’s that behind those doors shit goes down and old ladies have frozen bodies in freezers (just to clarify, no one in my family had a body in a freezer). What i’m trying to say in a round about way without totally exposing my family or loved ones is however things may look, you have don't always know what is going. The people I worry about the most are those who are always ‘fine’. I felt as if admitting to not being okay was unacceptable, meanwhile there was a gnawing inside my mind I could not reach. A feeling in my gut which convinced me of my insufficiency. I began to obsessively measure my value by the amount I could diminish my body. Avoiding food made me feel powerful, everyone was going on about weight and diets, well I would be the best at not eating. Same for exercise, I needed to run the furthest on empty in order to deem myself acceptable. I had so much self control, right? …I still vividly remember the moment I had to admit I was not in control. I had been travelling for a few months, my weight had been worrying prior to leaving, however, as I stepped out of arrivals at Heathrow excited to be reunited with my best friend and boyfriend, the look on their faces instantly told me something was wrong. It wasn't until I got home that I was confronted with the reality of how worrying I looked. It’s bizarre to think how little perception I had of my illness. Looking back, I can see how obsessive I became on my travels. I remember being in South Africa and going to ask at the hotel I was staying at whether I could use their luggage scales, all I wanted in that moment was to weigh myself and I saw no other option. That is the problem with anorexia, it was all encompassing. It was my best friend, the love of my life, my worst enemy. My body became the battle ground upon which I thrashed out my problems and I was unable to properly focus my attention on anyone else. I knew I was hurting people and I really really didn't want too, but I couldn't stop chasing the high that anorexia gave me. There is no drug more deceptive than starvation and I was addicted. 

Today

Loss for me came in many forms other than weight. I lost years of my life, time which I look on now and wish I could get back, time with loved ones that i’d give anything for today. I lost the ability to truly perceive my body. I lost love. I lost so many laughs. I lost trust in myself. Anorexia numbed pain which I could not express, but led to a hell of a lot more. So why am I writing all this? Because theres always hope. Yes, I lost a lot through illness, however, I gained so much through recovery. I am a totally different woman to who I was before. Recovery made me strong. Recovery helped me take time to workout what I really want in life. I proved to myself that when I set my mind to something, I can do it. Hell, if I can get that thin, fall that far down the rabbit hole and scramble my way out, I’d like to see what I can do channelling all that energy into my career. I now understand so much more about human emotion and about my own emotions. I will admit to still having wobbly days, I don't know that I could call myself fully ‘recovered’, but I do know that I’m going in the right direction. In the moments I catch myself regarding my body as ‘not enough’ I talk about it. Talking solves a LOT you know. I know now that I am worth so much more than the number on a scale. I am more than the gap between my legs or the dip where my hips meet me thigh, and that is vital. Everyone deserves more than a life starved of happiness and love, so whether you are struggling yourself, or worrying about someone, please do something. Do not hesitate. Life is far more glorious on the other side. Become fiercely determined to create a life you love. 

*Little disclaimer, this post was inspired by my best, Thea, turning to me as we wandered the streets of Barcelona and simply saying ‘I am so proud of you, you are so very strong’. From one of the most incredible people I know, that means the World.*