Dearest GodzillaPin,

It’s been a month to the day I left France for good, walking out your life definitively.

I shall not go into details on such a public platform, how ugly things had become towards the end, save to say when I left, we were at a stage in our relationship where every conversation spiralled into an argument within two minutes of beginning.

We had an immense amount of frustration, hurt, distrust, loathing, and a lot of unhappiness between us. You may recall I spent the whole month between my return from Singapore and my re-departure hiding at the library trying to avoid you. You’d called me unrepeatable names. I wasn’t pulling my weight around the house; I’d given up trying.

It’s as if we forgot how our relationship started out as friendship. Remember how we met at my place one summer evening in an Australian December, when my German housemate celebrated her birthday? It was themed a Bad Taste Party and we were all dressed to our absolute WORST, and as the evening wore on, after one drink too many, you found it hilarious how I was recklessly rollerblading through the house while I got so excited finally finding a veritable French person who embodied everything I believed of the French language and culture.

We were young. We were innocent. We were naive. We were daydreamers.

Back then, it was just you and I. Our parents weren’t involved. We didn’t have the stresses that came with adulthood. We were carefree and careless. You were a romantic dreamer who taught me how to savour the pleasures of life.

I walked away for many reasons.

You know that for a relationship to work, it takes two hands to clap. Once upon a time we were high-fiving effortlessly, but after a while we weren’t clapping anymore. At any rate, even if we tried, we were missing.

Between Mother Rabbit and Papa Turtle, you know there was too much parental interference. As an Asian I understand the importance of deference to parents, but where we failed was permitting external voices to overpower our own say in the matter. I failed to shield my mind from Papa Turtle’s harsh criticisms of you, while you failed to shield me from Mother Rabbit’s criticisms, full stop. Like dripping water over time, it wore us both down.

Between your continuous unemployment despite many job offers, and my horrific illness of an eating disorder (and various other health issues – let’s not forget my car accident and multiple C. Difficile infections), things just got too much.

When you can’t deal with your own shit, you can’t be there for someone else. I wasn’t coping with my own problems and neither were you. How then, could we contribute and give 100% to our relationship when we weren’t taking care of our own issues?

The day I left, you drove me to the train station and in tears, you asked me how you were going to live without me.

It’s been a month and you’re still there, aren’t you? I know you are OK.

I’d never seen you crying that way before. I’d never seen such pain and hurt and upset, and a part of me died, knowing I was the cause of your hurt. But I hope you can see that I did it for US. I did what was best for both you and I.

All those years ago you asked me to leave it all behind – my job, my volunteer work, my friends and family in Australia and Singapore – to start a new life with you in France. I did that. I took a chance. I loved you with nothing less than my all. And because I don’t do things by halves, and because I still care, I did what I had to. Before your problems, and my own, completely ruined us. Before it destroyed our lives any further.

You thanked me for all the beautiful memories we shared. I thank you for them too. From backpacking through Europe where we visited castles, nuclear bunkers, wineries and beaches, to exploring various cities around Asia and sharing beers and barbecued seafood at the beaches, lazing around pools in villas… All the way back to when you used to pull me out my shell during my student days by packing homemade gourmet sandwiches for picnic lunches by the Torrens River behind the University of Adelaide.

Even back then when I struggled with my food issues, you taught me to take pleasure in my meals.

I left because I have my demons to fight. It’s a battle I must fight alone. I cannot drag you into this. So understand that after 8 years of shared history, by choosing to walk away, I’m not kicking you to the curb so much as I’m granting you a freedom from a flavour of hell nobody should endure.

Go. There is no time, no room, no chance for regret.

Make something of yourself and your life now that you’re not saddled with someone mentally ill. You’re a BAC+5 who went through prepa – your potential is limitless.

I believe in you. Chase your dreams, whatever they may be.

And when you asked me “how can I just forget everything we had, everything we shared?”, my answer is simply – don’t. Do not forget them, because I won’t.

You came into my life for a reason, and for all the pain and suffering you and I have caused, inflicted upon each other, intentional or not, we also gave each other a lot of happiness. So don’t regret any of it, I try not to.

And when you’re sad, when you’re afraid, when you are in doubt, when things get too much, remember.

Remember the happiness and joy of when we were deliriously in love with each other, without any complications. When we were young and stupid and carefree and truly happy. And find the courage you need to get through all the shit you face with these memories. We had too many to count. Let’s not count them. Let’s just be thankful for them.

So, thank you.

I loved you.

In a way, I still love you.

But just as love unites, it can separate too.

Here are some of my favourite pictures of the times we shared. You know we had many, many more. Camping in the Swiss Alps with Matt Damon. Shared meals in our apartment with Mickey Mouse. Racing up the Dune du Pilat with Sonic the Hedgehog.

All those races you drove me around France to, and your beaming with utter pride as I crossed the finish line each time, when my own parents were not there to celebrate these victories.

Remember them all with a smile. I try to.

And in case I haven’t said this enough, let me say this once more.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.


Ninja Turtle

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Eating Disorders

Bon Appétit!

I looked at my meal this morning
It was simultaneously
Too much, and not enough
Just like me
When I woke up this morning
Asking myself: am I hungry?
Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know…
I’m full and yet, empty
My mind plays dirty tricks, you see
It says: what does the scale read?
Is the number good enough
For this morning’s feed?
But that’s irrelevant, I know
To eat by earth’s gravity
And not by signals I ignore
From my poor abused body
Yet hunger, how do I honour you?
For years, you’ve frightened me
To feel you is unfeminine
So says our society
To want, to need, is weakness
A shame one must conceal
To yearn, to crave, is wanton
For women, to reveal
My hunger is enormous and
It’s something I can feel
But I can’t go and seize the day
Without a morning meal…

So quiet the toxic voices
That say “no, you cannot”
They’re wrong, because you CAN
Don’t listen to that rot
You can, you should, you will
No fear, just be yourself
You’ll shine like the constellations
When you regain your health
Know that you’re worthy of love
Just the way you are
Embrace the hunger, chase your dreams
Sweet soul, you are a STAR.


Breakfast is one of those meals where most people tend to take less seriously, and for those recovering from an eating disorder, it can be particularly hard. The Ninja Turtle skipped breakfast for many years, and during recovery, spent six months making it a habit.

One of the biggest problems and fears for sufferers is “why eat when I’m not even feeling hungry anyway? I’m going to have to restrict later during the day when I actually feel hungry, so shouldn’t I just save my breakfast calories for later?”

No. Oftentimes we don’t have an appetite when we awake, that’s true. And most healthy people can afford to skip their morning meals without dire consequences. But when one is recovering from an eating disorder, every meal is an opportunity. Food is medicine, and mealtimes are training sessions – a chance to be less scared of food, a chance to re-learn what we like and do not like, a chance to nourish our broken bodies correctly, deliciously, happily without anxiety or guilt.

Another concern during recovery is “if I start eating when I’m not even hungry, when do I know when to stop eating?”

This is another opportunity to learn. The Ninja Turtle really struggled with hunger and satiety cues, and she still does now, but it only came with a lot of practice and patience and courage to dare to eat. You cannot know what it feels like to be full if you keep denying it when you feel hungry. Only when you know the two extremes will you slowly learn the varying degrees of in-between.

You’ve been restricting and running on “empty” for so long (it doesn’t matter what weight/BMI you are, as long as you are undereating to your individual physical needs, that is restriction) that your brain and body needs a few, if not many opportunities to recognise it’s-OK-there’s-enough-to-eat-so-eat-to-your-heart’s-content which is for the Ninja Turtle, “full to bursting”. But that’s OK. Eventually it all calms down. The brain and the body are starting to recognise there is no need to eat like one must prepare for a famine, because the mental and physical restrictions are removed.

So one day, maybe breakfast can be pushed off to become brunch (preferably with lots of champagne, eggs and avocado toast, waffles and ice cream) or a simple cup of black coffee. But not yet. Not when one still needs to replenish, rebuild and re-learn.

Eat your breakfast, fellow warriors. Some days you will want it, some days you will not. Some days you will enjoy it, some days you want to fling the darn thing at the wall on the other side of the room. Some days you’ll be awake two hours before it, looking forward to the orange juice, bacon and jam on toast, some days you will wish all the omelettes and oatmeal on earth could just vanish forever.

And one day you will wake up thinking about poetry, fashion, travel, politics, animals, languages, archaeology, volunteering, [insert what you like here] instead, and whatever you’re served up for breakfast becomes irrelevant, and then you realise… this is what it means to be free.

N.B This was a photo taken in January 2011, right back the the “beginning” so to speak, when GodzillaPin and the Ninja Turtle first started officially dating. This was a trip to Saigon in Vietnam, back in a place and time when the Turtle could eat a morning meal without qualms and just get on with the rest of her day (which was exploring Vietnam’s war history in the Cu Chi tunnels).

Arts and Culture, Eating Disorders

Christmas Poetry

As most people suffering from eating disorders know, the end-of-year holiday festivities is a particularly trying time. Christmas to New Year’s? Ha! More like from Halloween stretching up to Valentine’s Day (heck, why stop there? sometimes it extends till Easter), the entire world seems to be in a perpetual let’s-see-how-much-we-can-feast-or-indulge mode.

Stressful enough for everyone in general, it creates additional anxiety for those dealing with eating disorders as one is constantly surrounded by food, and with all those parties and gatherings come conversations and remarks surrounding one’s appearances, eating, dieting, etc etc etc.

*brain explodes*

When one feels this overwhelmed, it’s dreadfully easy to lose sight of the true meaning of the festive season. Be it Ashura or Bodhi Day or Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Yalda or Yule (apologies if your particular faith has been overlooked in this list, but the Turtle acknowledges there are plenty of religious holidays at the end of the year, not just Christmas), it seems in every corner of the world, people of all backgrounds, skin colour, creeds and faith seem to be celebrating.

Yes, fellow sufferers of eating disorders. It’s a time of celebration, not of stress and unhappiness. It’s a time of getting together with people we love, people who mean the most to us. It’s about sharing the most precious thing in life – moments.

Don’t let the self-loathing distract you from the fact that people are truly happy in your company. Don’t let the critical self-judgement turn into unhappy disagreements with people who truly care for your well-being. Don’t let the lies of the disorder fool you into believing there is anything more important than sharing time with friends and family.

Not your dress size, not the extra bowl of creamy cheesy mashed potatoes, not the third glass of mulled wine or mug of hot cocoa spiked with rum. Not the number of kilometres you have to run before or after Christmas Day. These things don’t matter. They are irrelevant.

Let go. It’s OK.

While sorting through her poetry collection, the Ninja Turtle stumbled upon a poem titled Christmas 2010, written in a period of her life when she was in a much better head space. A time when she could see what truly mattered. For the last few years she’d lost sight of it, but as she continues to claw and fight her way out of the grip of this frightful disease, she’s hopeful that every Christmas will be like this again.


Christmas 2010

Friends and family, loved ones dear
On this day all gathered here
To celebrate the festive cheer
What a magical time of year

Cards and gifts and wrappers a-flurry
Drinks and nibbles, a feast of plenty
The boys all strapping, the girls all dainty
Music and laughter, all joyful and merry

A time of giving, a time of receiving
A time with others, a time of sharing
A time for loving, forgiving, forgetting
A time to make memories forever worth keeping

A toast all around with cheap champagne
To pleasant company, great to entertain
I think, my friends, it’s rather plain
That next year we’ll be doing this again!


Arts and Culture, Eating Disorders


Of course now I’m different
For nothing stays the same
Not even you, my dear friend
But changes bring no shame

For are we not improved?
By sands of time, refined
Polished by the fires of fear
Like rubies, now we shine

Our daily tribulations
Dull aches of suffering
So sharpen our resilience
To face what tomorrow brings

And crises flung our way
Each battle that we waged
We’ve scaled canyons of grief
Surmounted with great courage

Look back not at yesterday
And wonder what may be
No more are you the same you
Nor I, the same old me

Focus instead of what’s ahead
The journey’s not yet done
But knowing that we’ll make it
That’s half the battle won

So embrace change, fear it not
It’s the only certainty we’ve got

Arts and Culture, Travel

The Search

O lonesome voyager, you are so very far from home
You’ve seen many faces, but still you walk alone
Each day your path unfolds in directions quite unknown
Leading you to everywhere, it seems, except back home

Your rucksack carries little yet your weary shoulders sag
Forever burdened by your thoughts, from all that you’ve seen
Or worse! thing that you’ve heard, of places you’ve not yet been
The weight of faint hope and dashed dreams can’t fit in your bag

Know what it is you truly seek? O lonesome voyager
Some vague definition – a roughly-shaped idea
A glimmer of an outline to your indescribable desire
Without a clue to what drives you, you’re condemned to aimless wander

Pose your belongings for a while, sit and have a rest
Let the stillness engulf you, as time melts and slips by
In this silence your heart speaks – to you it will not lie
So trust the little voice inside, for it truly knows what’s best

O lonesome voyager, though you be far from home
As you journey onward, know that you’re not alone
Your guardian angels keep watch and the North Star it has shone
And when you’ve found that which you seek, the winds shall blow you home.

Arts and Culture, Running

A Tribute to Vaco

When I first arrived, you jumped upon me
Knocked me over, and licked me with glee
Back then, the French tongue, I could not comprehend
But you showed me with no words that we’re to be friends

Your eyes were huge, your heart was bigger
You always wanted to share my dinner
But never mind if I gave you no food
It never destroyed your joyful mood

You taught yourself to open doors
Despite your only having paws
And knew when bedtime rolled around
You’d nuzzle us, then head underground*

When I first started running years ago
Unfit as I was, the going was slow
As I slogged through valleys resembling canyons
You came along as a faithful companion

Until your joints gave out one fine day
No more runs, but you still loved to play
Sure, age was slowing catching up
But deep down inside, you were still a pup

Who roamed the street we lived on, free
Strutting between number 2 and 3
To check on Grandpa and Grandma Rabbit
Your loyalty was a daily habit^

You were doing fine, but all of a sudden,
We got the news: you went to doggie heaven
I didn’t even get to say “Farewell,
I love you, good doggie, you were swell”

Goodbye dear Vaco, you’re one of a kind
You’re loved by those you’ve left behind
Though you most sadly did depart
You’ll forever live on in our hearts.

*For many years the dog’s bed was in the basement, where it was cooler and more comfortable. He’d jump up on his hind legs, open the door and descend the flight of stairs when he decided it was bedtime, but never before wishing us goodnight by licking a hand or nuzzling against us.

^Grandpa and Grandma Rabbit live about 100m down the road from GodzillaPin’s parents’. The dog would once again, open the front door and let himself out, cross the road carefully and trot down the pavement to make sure the old folks are OK. Every single day. That dog had more filial piety than most human beings.


Arts and Culture


Autumn, you treacherous beauty
You murmur sweet promises
Of piercing sunlight and gentle drizzles
In an eternity of late afternoons
Of bountiful harvests and family feasts
With honey and sweetmeats and wine and spice
Of a masterpiece, a colour explosion
As flowers fade, the silent leaves bloom

Rich. And deep. And luscious.

Summer’s not left and you’ve stolen her spotlight
The monsoons arrive while the leaves are yet green
Daylight truncated by cloud-covered evenings
By night, your fangs of ice sink into sunburnt skin
No scenes of lovers strolling through leaf-strewn paths
No comfort shared by the hearth over brandy and fire
No smoke from the chimneys but our skies are now grey
No, Autumn, begone. You owe us one last summer day.