Category: creative arts

I am surrounded by 10 family members inside the National Library of Australia, Canberra. We are in a private reading room to visit my diary ‘family’, the early years of which are spread before us on a long table. Emotions bubble within—I feel exposed, unclothed, with my mind, heart, and...

It’s funny when we realise that we have feet in two worlds that barely speak to each other. I have one foot in the world of eating disorder (ED) research and treatment and the other in the world of literary studies. The literary people tend to assume that books must...

My name is Tiacoh Hyacinthe-Arnaud Yao Kpri Junior II. I know, it’s long … very long, actually. But it’s necessary for the rest of my story. I was born into a family with two children, and I was the eldest. Then, miraculously, my mother gave birth to twins at age...

Anorexia very nearly stole my life. After 15 years in what can only be described as a living hell, I was told I had only a few weeks to live; my dear body couldn’t hold on any longer. I could feel myself slipping away; after more than a decade of...

Until a few months ago, my diaries and I had been inseparable for more than 60 years. We had stuck together despite moving house more than 24 times in my search for peace within. Never a day apart. The diaries were my one constant from age 12. They were my...

If I had not realised I am Autistic and received an official diagnosis, I would likely be dead – “or worse, expelled!” My anorexia nervosa was fuelled by a deep and desperate yearning to be thin. This yearning was partially driven by knowing that, in our fat-phobic society, being thin...

So, I quit my job again at the end of January. The healthcare company I worked for was one of those doctor-owned ventures not uncommon in Seoul, South Korea, where medical doctors generally belong to the highest income groups and are probably the most exclusive interest group. In a misogynistic...

My father believed in magic. He forever chased bigger and better, shouting his ideas from the rooftops so the world would look his way. My mother was, and remains, eloquent, challenging and well-spoken. In childhood, I struggled to be heard and understood because the need of both parents to be...