Doncaster woman shares a thoughtful poem she has written about her struggle with eating disorders

Gratitude and Happiness… For a Life that should not be by Lisa Fouweather.

When I think about what could’ve been,

or perhaps,

what should’ve been,

I feel grateful and lucky to be alive.

For I know that I should not be here

and yet,

here I am,

still here,

still very much alive,

and that’s all down to the higher power looking out for me.

And so, I thank it,

whatever “it” may be.

I thank it for saving me,

for keeping me going when it would’ve been so easy to have just given up the fight.

I know that I myself had given up the fight.

I had come to accept the very real possibility of death, to such an extent that I would plan my

running routes based on whether my body “could easily be found if I collapsed.”

So, you see,

I was very much aware that death was a real possibility for me if I continued to go running,

and yet,

every day,

I would still set my alarm,

lace up my trainers,

and head out,

running mile after mile wondering,

“Will this be the day?”

And, you know what, it could’ve quite easily been “the day.”

Had I not been sectioned on that Tuesday morning back in July 2019, I dread to think where I would

be today

because,

as I have come to realise,

the human body is not invincible,

despite what we may think.

Our bodies simply cannot keep going forever.

When it all gets too much,

it all stops.

Blackness.

No more chances to recover.

Everything ends.

It’s gone,

all gone.

But here’s the scary thing,

It very nearly was “all gone” for me,

and yet I was oblivious to this fact.

I was still oblivious to it when I woke up in a hospital bed with treatment being forced upon me.

Even then I couldn’t see what I was doing to myself,

That I was slowly dying.

Would I have died if I hadn’t been sectioned?

It would’ve been a very real possibility, but there’s no way of knowing,

not for sure.

Something that I do know, however, is that I didn’t collapse.

I didn’t die.

I am still here today, and that must be for a reason.

It wasn’t my time to go, for I have not yet fulfilled my life’s purpose.

What that purpose is, I’m not so sure of yet, though I know it will all become clear,

one day.

Reflecting on the wonder that is life in today’s post has made me realise:

we only have now.

And so,

we must choose to recover today,

not tomorrow

because

who’s to say there will be a tomorrow?

We cannot take our life for granted.

Every minute of it,

every second even,

is precious.

Life is so precious.

And so that is why I am filled with gratitude for life,

filled with gratitude and happiness for a life that should not be.

It isn’t just me who has been given a “2nd chance” at life, either.

4 years ago, my grandad was in intensive care on the verge of death

and yet,

here he is,

years later,

still alive.

But other people who go into hospital with far less severe illnesses, die.

My dad too- he was in a motorbike accident before I was born.

He shouldn’t be here,

but he is.

And, my mum, she hasn’t had a 2nd chance at life,

but more like a 2222nd chance at life.

When my mum was drinking, she would put herself in such vulnerable situations.

She fell onto the tramline in Blackpool and was found unconscious and taken to hospital.

Imagine if a tram had been going down that track, or if she hadn’t been found.

She’d probably be dead.

But,

thank God she’s not.

Yet, I think about Sarah Everard the poor girl who was killed a few months ago. She hadn’t put

herself in a vulnerable position, not really.

She was walking home from her friend’s house, in a major city, at 9pm. It wasn’t “late”,

she wasn’t walking down secluded alleyways,

(Though even if she were, that still wouldn’t have warranted her murder, of course.)

What I am trying to say is that millions of us do that exact thing every day.

We walk home,

just like Sarah did,

and yet,

we make it home.

Sarah didn’t.

I really do believe that:

“Everything happens for a reason”.

And that,

“When it’s time, it’s time.”

This belief in fate doesn’t scare me,

it comforts me,

for I know that I am on the right path,

the only path,

and that everything will work out exactly as it should

in the end.

How can I be so sure?

Because I know that I am here for a reason,

as are you.

So,

don’t take this life for granted.

Live it fully

and never look back.

In these confusing and worrying times, local journalism is more vital than ever. Thanks to everyone who helps us ask the questions that matter by taking out a subscription or buying a paper. We stand together. Liam Hoden, editor.