One day I made the choice not to eat. I don't know when or how but somewhere along the way I made that choice. And now I sit and look around at everyone indulging in delicious food and enjoying themselves wondering when that will be me. How will that ever be me?
I sit alone in my apartment and make the choice not to eat. I don't eat for as long as I can possibly hold out for. Because I can't. I can't see the number on the scale rise. I can't feel that food inside me, expanding in my body, nourishing me. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to feel good. I get angry for wanting food. Why can't I just live without it. I shouldn't be craving food of any sort.
And then I take a little bite of something and that's it.
But that voice in my head chimes in, "you can throw that up you know". And for a moment, bulimia weasels it's way back into my life. And I don't have just one bite, I eat it all. I eat it all because unlike you, I don't know when I'll taste that again. I wont allow myself to go back to it later, or tomorrow, or next week. So I indulge until I'm sick, I fill my hollow being, my empty emotions with food so I don't have to feel for that minute. And then I release it. Because it's bad, because I don't like the feeling. Because I was so stupid to have ever thought what I just did was okay. Eating is not okay.
But now, I don't feel satisfaction after. I feel hate. Hate towards myself. Even more hate towards my eating disorder. And the ultimate confusion for why I couldn't just stay away.
I embrace anorexia like a long lost love. I watch as the number on the scale declines. Feel angst when it's at a stand still. Welcome the sleepless nights because I am empty again. Anxiety is home.
And I wonder how I got back here. How I let what indeed effected me, effect me. Knowing if I just eliminate it from my life... Maybe I will be okay then. I will probably be okay then. But having it is destructive, "it" treats me like I should be treated. Like I am nothing, like I don't matter, like I can just be walked all over. I don't need them... like I don't need my eating disorder. But it's so much easier to not speak up.
I have to speak up.
