Next time I drove my mother to despair was when I was 19. I had stopped eating.

I don't know what I survived on for the next three years because it had taken me three years to snap out of it.

I was founding food repulsive and vile. I'd cook something, take one look at it and feel sick. If I managed to put it in my mouth it would grow there, expand until I couldn't breathe and I would retch and throw it up. I could only eat apples and drink yoghurt.

My mother was worried sick. She was convinced I'd lost all that weight because of drugs. In fact, I had never taken drugs. It was my mind controlling my metabolism. My mind was sick and it was driving my body sick with obsessions. I felt I was too heavy, too fat, too big while at the same time I was a walking elf, a shadow of my former self. I think my mind could only be satisfied when I was reduced to a tiny particle - obedient and without a will of its own.

I've got a mind of a demon. And it can be self-destructive as much as it is controlling and possessive of others. It knows no boundaries - sometimes.