*~*a classic common dialogue between Ed & I*~*
Yesterday I worked a busy shift, running around sweating my balls off, (if I had any) in the mild heat we did have. Until the end of my shift at 1130pm, I really had barely consumed anything all day. So I ordered food... To go. Ed disapproved.
Ed- you better not eat that. You've done so well all day.
Me- I'm hungry Ed, I'll eat half of it at home. I'm going to die if you don't let me eat.
Ed- you'll get fat, don't eat that.
*i ate it. half of it at work actually.*
When I got home...
Ed- you better not eat the rest of that. You foolishly made plans to go for breakfast tomorrow morning. You probably shouldn't go anymore.
*so i ate the other half*
Ed- okay, now you definitely can't go for breakfast tomorrow. Look at you, I can see the meal on your hips already. Do you feel better?
Me- no actually, I feel like I'm going to be sick.
Ed- you're not going tomorrow.
Me- I have to Ed, I made plans. I actually single handedly made these plans myself. I have to go. I'll just have coffee.
Ed- fine.
*when I woke up this morning I still felt full from the meal last night. I wasn't going to go, but really, I did make the plans. I had to go, I wasn't letting Ed win this morning. So I went, and I ate.*
Ed- you don't get it do you. You're too fat, you shouldn't be eating that. You're going to regret this, because I'm going to make you.
And by fat I mean...
~I'm really frustrated that I'm not better yet~
Me- I'm going to yoga later, I had to eat or I wouldn't make it through the class.
Ed- you better go work out before yoga or you'll look disgusting in those clothes.
And by disgusting I really mean...
~I keep attracting and allowing shitty relationships into my life. I need to be better so I can do better~
*so I did. I went home and jumped roped for 30 minutes. And then I danced for an hour and a half.*
Me- I shouldn't have done that. I'm going to eat something small and take the subway up.
Ed- no you're not.
Me- i'll walk home Ed, it's hot yoga, I gotta make it through the class.
Ed- you can take the subway home, promise. But you have so much time before class, you have to walk.
*so two hours before my class I walked there... The long way. An hour and a half later, I arrived, sweating and hungry and anxious*
Me- I shouldn't go in. You're in my head too much today. And I'm hungry, I'm really not going to make it through this class I don't think.
Ed- you'll make it through, I promise. And hey, I think maybe you kinda sorta look skinnier then you did earlier. You should work out some more. ***snickers behind devious smile***
Me- k, but stay outside. I need peace from you for an hour and a half.
Ed- only if you go in now
Me- my class doesn't start for another 30 min. It's too hot. I'm not making it through this class.
*so I went and laid in the heat for 30min prior to my class. I didn't bring Him in with me, so many people were in and out, He must have snuck in. I couldn't concentrate on a single thing, I couldn't hear the instructor. It was Him, His voice, Loud in my hear, taunting me.
...I didn't make it through the class*
Me- see, I told you...
Ed- that's your own fault, you were doing so great, I thought for sure you could do it. Don't blame me for your incompetence.
While kneeling on the bathroom floor trying not to puke or pass out...
Me- shut up Ed.
*foolishly thinking I could take the subway home, I was so disappointed in myself for not completing the class, I walked another hour and a half home. Sweaty, ugly and fat.
And by fat I mean...
~I think I'm really worried about my mom~
The entire, long, gross walk home he was walking beside me.
Ed- you should run home.
Me- I have a yoga mat, a purse with TWO towels in it among other things, and a water bottle. How about YOU run home, I'll meet ya there.
Ed- no really, I think you should run, it'll make up for lost yoga time. I promise you'll feel better.
Me- Ed, I still feel like I'm going to puke
Ed- well, if you had of stuck out the class, you could have taken the subway home. You did this to yourself.
Me- ya right you would have let me. How about I walk really quickly and you shut the hell up for 20 minutes.
*i walked a pace so fast I was trying to escape from someone. If I didn't have all my stuff I would have ran. I was trying to escape Him but man can that guy keep up. Every 30 seconds he assured me that I'm so fat I'll never get the things I want in life.*
And by fat I really mean...
~I'm scared my hard work in school and life right now isn't going to get me where I want to be. I'm terrified I'll never be good enough.~
*i eventually made it home and hopped in the shower. I blasted Adele to drown out the obnoxious sounds of Him and belted out lyrics that all too closely relate to my relationship with Him.*
Ed- what's the text say?
Me- don't worry about it...
*i was suppose to go out tonight, with a guy I'm really into. My response to an inquiry of if I'm coming was, "not likely"*
And by not likely I mean...
~I'm too fat.~
And by I'm too fat I REALLY mean...
~...I'd love to but you're no good for me, and I've had enough of no good for me for today.~
Ed- I think you should go...
Me- I think maybe you should go fuck yourself.
*so I put on the cutest pair of PJ's I could find to make myself feel a little better, made a coffee... And wrote...*
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
My Own Path
Recovery... What does that word even mean?! I can tell you this; the words easy, fun, reliable, joyous and The. Best. Ever! Will not be descriptors of Recovery, I'm sorry, they just won't be. Messy, chaotic, emotional and frustrating are more likely to fit the mold. It's the most uncomfortable, confusing thing ever. The process in itself sucks in my opinion. Just when you think you're doing kinda okay... You're suddenly, without warning or excuse, kinda REALLY not okay. There is no Recovery for Dummies manual to read and adhere to. There are no rules, no shoulds, shouldas or shouldnts. People will tell you to just eat, just don't throw up, just don't exercise, just love life, just be okay and just get better already. Some will tell you they know best, that you are too far in it to make a good decision and you should listen to them. Some will leave you alone and let you make your own decisions. Either one may or may not work for you. What I'm trying to say is... You're path won't look like mine and mine won't look like yours. What works for someone may not work for someone else. The most important thing...? Follow our own individual path, find what works for us, above all else, find the drive within our heart to do better for our own lives. To give ourselves the love we deserve even though most of the time we don't believe we deserve anything remotely great at all.
I've chosen a path that is maybe a little less conventional. Writing is my release. I have more paper notebooks than any single person should own with sporadic writings in all of them. Oddly, not a single notebook is completed. I hit a point where writing for only myself was getting me nowhere and decided to lay my heart and soul on the line for the world to see. It has been my saving grace I think. I don't so much talk freely in person about all this, my blog has allowed me to talk without having to speak.
I can't explain why it helps so much, I'm not sure I even understand it, all I know is that I'm not laying on my bathroom floor curled up in the fetal position everyday crying, afraid to leave my house except to go to work. With that being said, it's still hard to leave every day. I've had a small glimpse into life enjoyment this last year and that is what is keeping me afloat for now.
Afloat... Maybe we can use that word loosely.
My chosen route through this has been a struggle for others in my life. It's hard to make people understand my not wanting to do some things and wanting to do others when it comes to treatment. Treatment is an intensely scary thing, something I'll touch on another day, and that I'm not ready for. It's been a slow process for some to handle and at times for me as well. What matters to me though is that I want recovery sometimes, and sometimes is better than never. The somewhat small successes I have had don't get the praise they deserve because contradictory, they are serious failures in my eyes in the moment. I know though that that's Ed's voice knocking me down and my selfish reasons for not wanting to give up my eating disorder for good. It's only when I can look back on weeks, months and sadly, years, that I see I'm not in the same low place I once was. I get really angry everyday that I'm not better, but it's the simple reminder to myself that after 15 years of being effected by Ed, I can't expect to be better today. I'm learning to find the fine line between needing to stay inside away from the world and needing to go out and walk for hours. I'm learning who's voice is speaking, mine or Ed's, and which one to listen to. I'm learning that today I'm good but tomorrow I may be back crying on the bathroom floor. That my next post may be how horribly horrible all this is and how I'll never get better and that I downed a box of diet pills and spent my entire day exercising, and the post after that will be how motivated I am to recover. I'm learning that recovery is a contradiction in itself. That recovery can't be defined at all. I'm learning... And for now... That's what matters.
I'd also like to mention sharing, in any form, is therapy. When you can't be kind to yourself, getting your secret out results in kind words from others. It just so happens I was pleasantly surprised when I read a comment on a previous post today. I don't know them but that's what the best thing about it is. I needed to read that comment at that moment. Reading the kind words from an anonymous stranger makes me realize there are some pretty fantastic people out there. So to whoever you are, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for caring and believing. And seeing what I can't yet.
I've chosen a path that is maybe a little less conventional. Writing is my release. I have more paper notebooks than any single person should own with sporadic writings in all of them. Oddly, not a single notebook is completed. I hit a point where writing for only myself was getting me nowhere and decided to lay my heart and soul on the line for the world to see. It has been my saving grace I think. I don't so much talk freely in person about all this, my blog has allowed me to talk without having to speak.
I can't explain why it helps so much, I'm not sure I even understand it, all I know is that I'm not laying on my bathroom floor curled up in the fetal position everyday crying, afraid to leave my house except to go to work. With that being said, it's still hard to leave every day. I've had a small glimpse into life enjoyment this last year and that is what is keeping me afloat for now.
Afloat... Maybe we can use that word loosely.
My chosen route through this has been a struggle for others in my life. It's hard to make people understand my not wanting to do some things and wanting to do others when it comes to treatment. Treatment is an intensely scary thing, something I'll touch on another day, and that I'm not ready for. It's been a slow process for some to handle and at times for me as well. What matters to me though is that I want recovery sometimes, and sometimes is better than never. The somewhat small successes I have had don't get the praise they deserve because contradictory, they are serious failures in my eyes in the moment. I know though that that's Ed's voice knocking me down and my selfish reasons for not wanting to give up my eating disorder for good. It's only when I can look back on weeks, months and sadly, years, that I see I'm not in the same low place I once was. I get really angry everyday that I'm not better, but it's the simple reminder to myself that after 15 years of being effected by Ed, I can't expect to be better today. I'm learning to find the fine line between needing to stay inside away from the world and needing to go out and walk for hours. I'm learning who's voice is speaking, mine or Ed's, and which one to listen to. I'm learning that today I'm good but tomorrow I may be back crying on the bathroom floor. That my next post may be how horribly horrible all this is and how I'll never get better and that I downed a box of diet pills and spent my entire day exercising, and the post after that will be how motivated I am to recover. I'm learning that recovery is a contradiction in itself. That recovery can't be defined at all. I'm learning... And for now... That's what matters.
I'd also like to mention sharing, in any form, is therapy. When you can't be kind to yourself, getting your secret out results in kind words from others. It just so happens I was pleasantly surprised when I read a comment on a previous post today. I don't know them but that's what the best thing about it is. I needed to read that comment at that moment. Reading the kind words from an anonymous stranger makes me realize there are some pretty fantastic people out there. So to whoever you are, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for caring and believing. And seeing what I can't yet.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Media Hurts
I don't know whether I should tell you that I haven't made myself throw up once in about a month, or that today all that ended in a very premeditated, violent, angry way. Maybe all that truly matters is the "why" it all came to a halt.
I feel if for a few minutes it was possible to silence the world around us, our insecurities would still be what was screaming in our ears without the outside noise validating our every negative thought. We are, after all, essentially our own worst critics, so once you add in all that we witness or hear we tend to doubt ourselves more often in a day then we praise ourselves. Now fill in all that silence with Magazines, Print Ads, Billboards, Retail Stores, Radio, TV, Co-workers, Relatives, Parents, Spouses, School, Work, Friends, Enemies and Strangers... In a simple, single day, all of these make us take a look back at ourselves and question... Am I good enough...? As if women (yes men too) aren't exposed and knocked down ten notches on the daily, the message we are sending to our youth is unbearably disgusting.
I've had a pretty difficult few days so this afternoon when I decided to walk into La Senza with a girlfriend, I should have listened to that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and turned right around. Unfortunately I'm no good at listening to myself and, well, I needed new underwear. Scanning through the store I noticed a common theme. The most widely accessible sizes on the walls, racks, and tables, were the smallest size with a bigger bust. "Normal" "Average" or "Bigger" were all stuck in drawers. Being use to things like this, I was trying my hardest to look past this detail. Then I noticed that 50% of the sizes that were out were a 30A. A size that I'm fairly certain did not even exist six months ago. I typically steer clear of underwear shopping so my timeline COULD be slightly incorrect. But I doubt it. Regardless, such a size would NATURALLY only fit a small undeveloped child of about ten, or... A person with an eating disorder. The question immediately on my mind to La Senza was; are they promoting child sexism or anorexia. Call me crazy but neither target market is proper. No 12 year old in my opinion needs a sexy lace push up bra. Encouraging such is encouraging children to be sexy women, not children. Since when are children suppose to be sexy? We need to teach these girls to be strong with their minds, education, drive, and ambition. That sex isn't the most important thing. More importantly, it teaches young boys to treat women as sex objects, and gives them a view of women that is so far from what it should be.
Secondly, if the target isn't young children (really, that may be giving La Senza too much credit) then we are telling women they need to be this thin. Any woman who walks into that store who is healthy will question if that is how small she should be. A girl walking into that store in recovery from an eating disorder or still suffering, an unhealthy size like this is going to keep them sick or revert them back to old tendencies. Maybe I'm speaking too boldly, that not every woman in the world is so easily influenced, but so so many of us are.
Further into the store I came across a highly suggestive picture of a model who couldn't have been older than 14 on a bed in pigtails and lingerie with a popsicle in her mouth and another sucking icing off her finger. Sorry, La Senza, but my giving you the benefit of the doubt that young girls aren't being sexually exploited in your store, came to a quick end right there.
So I have to ask, with all the pressure from the media that women need to be skinny to be beautiful, sexy to be adored, over the top to be seen; where are the warnings? People buy cigarettes with graphic warnings on the label about the effects of smoking. On the label of diet pills and ads are they going to let girls know the consequence of trying to be "perfect"?
WARNING: taking such diet pill, dieting, and forcing yourself to be "perfect" will cause depression, anxiety, obsession, addiction, severe self harm, and an abundance of hate for yourself. Participating in anorexic and bulimic behaviours will leave you with no friends, no life. You will become consumed and think of nothing but being pretty, skinny and perfect. You will become so deprived on everything you need it will be all you think about. In the end you will die because you killed yourself or your eating disorder did. Please take with caution. And remember... Smile so no one knows how sad you are.
It's all been so glamourized that no one thinks about or mentions the disturbing consequences. I speak so passionately about this because I don't think anyone should go through what I do every day. It's not worth it... It's just not. I have young female cousins that are subjected to this all the time and I can't bare the thought of them turning out like me. I'll fight tooth and nail for things to change for them.
Upon leaving the store and going to work... A co worker called me fat. Because people think that's funny to do. I walked home, and with every other step I took I told myself to purge. And with the other steps, I told myself no. After forcing the food I didn't want to see again down, I fought myself not to. But I had to. I had to feel better, to rid myself of the pain I felt today. Of the anger I have for society. Upon finishing dinner I read this...
Lady Gaga, a former sufferer of bulimia, with a huge following, tweets "just killed back to back spin classes. Eating a salad, dreaming of a cheeseburger. #popstarsdonteat #iwasbornthisway"
...and I knew that second my faith in society was gone for the day. The battle in my head was over and so was my month of "hard work".
...it felt like the first time I had ever purged again. It felt glorious and horrible. It felt so so right and so wrong. It felt like Ed in my soul.
It felt like love.
True love.
I feel if for a few minutes it was possible to silence the world around us, our insecurities would still be what was screaming in our ears without the outside noise validating our every negative thought. We are, after all, essentially our own worst critics, so once you add in all that we witness or hear we tend to doubt ourselves more often in a day then we praise ourselves. Now fill in all that silence with Magazines, Print Ads, Billboards, Retail Stores, Radio, TV, Co-workers, Relatives, Parents, Spouses, School, Work, Friends, Enemies and Strangers... In a simple, single day, all of these make us take a look back at ourselves and question... Am I good enough...? As if women (yes men too) aren't exposed and knocked down ten notches on the daily, the message we are sending to our youth is unbearably disgusting.
I've had a pretty difficult few days so this afternoon when I decided to walk into La Senza with a girlfriend, I should have listened to that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and turned right around. Unfortunately I'm no good at listening to myself and, well, I needed new underwear. Scanning through the store I noticed a common theme. The most widely accessible sizes on the walls, racks, and tables, were the smallest size with a bigger bust. "Normal" "Average" or "Bigger" were all stuck in drawers. Being use to things like this, I was trying my hardest to look past this detail. Then I noticed that 50% of the sizes that were out were a 30A. A size that I'm fairly certain did not even exist six months ago. I typically steer clear of underwear shopping so my timeline COULD be slightly incorrect. But I doubt it. Regardless, such a size would NATURALLY only fit a small undeveloped child of about ten, or... A person with an eating disorder. The question immediately on my mind to La Senza was; are they promoting child sexism or anorexia. Call me crazy but neither target market is proper. No 12 year old in my opinion needs a sexy lace push up bra. Encouraging such is encouraging children to be sexy women, not children. Since when are children suppose to be sexy? We need to teach these girls to be strong with their minds, education, drive, and ambition. That sex isn't the most important thing. More importantly, it teaches young boys to treat women as sex objects, and gives them a view of women that is so far from what it should be.
Secondly, if the target isn't young children (really, that may be giving La Senza too much credit) then we are telling women they need to be this thin. Any woman who walks into that store who is healthy will question if that is how small she should be. A girl walking into that store in recovery from an eating disorder or still suffering, an unhealthy size like this is going to keep them sick or revert them back to old tendencies. Maybe I'm speaking too boldly, that not every woman in the world is so easily influenced, but so so many of us are.
Further into the store I came across a highly suggestive picture of a model who couldn't have been older than 14 on a bed in pigtails and lingerie with a popsicle in her mouth and another sucking icing off her finger. Sorry, La Senza, but my giving you the benefit of the doubt that young girls aren't being sexually exploited in your store, came to a quick end right there.
So I have to ask, with all the pressure from the media that women need to be skinny to be beautiful, sexy to be adored, over the top to be seen; where are the warnings? People buy cigarettes with graphic warnings on the label about the effects of smoking. On the label of diet pills and ads are they going to let girls know the consequence of trying to be "perfect"?
WARNING: taking such diet pill, dieting, and forcing yourself to be "perfect" will cause depression, anxiety, obsession, addiction, severe self harm, and an abundance of hate for yourself. Participating in anorexic and bulimic behaviours will leave you with no friends, no life. You will become consumed and think of nothing but being pretty, skinny and perfect. You will become so deprived on everything you need it will be all you think about. In the end you will die because you killed yourself or your eating disorder did. Please take with caution. And remember... Smile so no one knows how sad you are.
It's all been so glamourized that no one thinks about or mentions the disturbing consequences. I speak so passionately about this because I don't think anyone should go through what I do every day. It's not worth it... It's just not. I have young female cousins that are subjected to this all the time and I can't bare the thought of them turning out like me. I'll fight tooth and nail for things to change for them.
Upon leaving the store and going to work... A co worker called me fat. Because people think that's funny to do. I walked home, and with every other step I took I told myself to purge. And with the other steps, I told myself no. After forcing the food I didn't want to see again down, I fought myself not to. But I had to. I had to feel better, to rid myself of the pain I felt today. Of the anger I have for society. Upon finishing dinner I read this...
Lady Gaga, a former sufferer of bulimia, with a huge following, tweets "just killed back to back spin classes. Eating a salad, dreaming of a cheeseburger. #popstarsdonteat #iwasbornthisway"
...and I knew that second my faith in society was gone for the day. The battle in my head was over and so was my month of "hard work".
...it felt like the first time I had ever purged again. It felt glorious and horrible. It felt so so right and so wrong. It felt like Ed in my soul.
It felt like love.
True love.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wait... What?
I think I had a small glimpse into recovery.
I didn't like it. It was unfamiliar, unsafe and uncomfortable, and anything else "un" related.
So I unconsciously and then slowly knowingly and then very much aware, self sabotaged myself.
Really...? Is this how this goes?
I didn't like it. It was unfamiliar, unsafe and uncomfortable, and anything else "un" related.
So I unconsciously and then slowly knowingly and then very much aware, self sabotaged myself.
Really...? Is this how this goes?
Monday, February 13, 2012
I Don't Think It Was A Compliment?
The other day someone told me I'm losing too much weight.
I wasn't sure whether I was suppose to say Thank You or, I'm Sorry.
So I blankly stared back and said...
"I wasn't aware I lost at all"
I'm sorry sir, what I really meant to say was,
"Thank You"
I wasn't sure whether I was suppose to say Thank You or, I'm Sorry.
So I blankly stared back and said...
"I wasn't aware I lost at all"
I'm sorry sir, what I really meant to say was,
"Thank You"
Sunday, February 5, 2012
You
It's a rarity to sleep through the night in my world. Or to simply enough have the courage to close my eyes and surrender my thoughts and body to the night sky and my very own dark sub conscious mind.
You wake up and through a foggy mind and sleepy eyes, strain your brain to come to a logical conclusion of what could have possibly made you feel this shitty with only the few hours that you missed in the night. Without any kind of surprise you realize once again that your life IS your reality and the creature who has left you lethargic and feeling as though you just boxed ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson is someone no one else can see. At least your ear is still in tact. The only thing pulling you out from underneath your warm cozy duvet is that voice in your head assuring you that if you don't get a move on, you will continue to get even more fat and repulsive. So you mutter a "fuck you" and drag your ass to the bathroom to start your routine. Look in the mirror, do you see that? You look like shit. The pigment from your skin is so drained you look sick and dehydrated as if you've just come home from a 5 day bender of binge drinking. You don't drink though, not really. Your eyes have a blood shot hue and the presence of insomnia lives deep within them from the slight sunken-ness and deep dark circles that surround them as decorative accents on your stupid face. As you peel away the layers you slept in, in the hopes that you would sweat calories away in the night, you've revealed a body that you'll spend the next 15 minutes examining as the shower grows hotter. You can see your ribs but are severely unsatisfied by your protruding stomach. You like that you can see your shoulder blades but not enough of your collar bone. Your hip bones are making a more definite appearance but your thighs seemed to have grown three inches over night. The only way you know you've lost anything is from the number you see on the scale but you know somehow you are getting visibly bigger and need to work harder. The bathroom is beginning to cloud over so you finally step into the scalding water and make the promise to yourself, like every other day,"I won't eat today". Dead skin is added weight so you're sure to exfoliate every part of your body to make up for anything possible. As you step out of the shower, your compulsion takes over and you spend another ten minutes criticizing yourself and are surely convinced that... The water in my pores has made me gained weight.
You wince hard from the well deserved pain of white bristles cleaning your teeth and watch has mouthfuls of crimson blood mixed with foaming pro-enamel wash down the drain. You hope that the teeth people see as you pretend to smile their way, stay inside your mouth for another day and you silently think to yourself "if I had a boyfriend, he could never watch me brush my teeth. What would he think with all that blood?". Depending on the day and if you have to work or not, you either consumer six laxatives or two diet pills and carefully choose an outfit that is acceptable for the day. The voice is getting louder the longer you take to remove yourself from the house. You are wasting precious walking time. The house is dangerous with food inside it. What you wouldn't give to spend a day on the couch watching movies. *sigh*.
Even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, and it generally is for the most part, you start walking. You walk everywhere. Layered in clothes and boots you know you're burning tons of calories. You'd give almost anything to be able to sit down, take the subway or ride an escalator. But as your friend stands on those mobile stairs you veer a slight left and make the move to walk the stairs next to her. Feeling half embarrassed and a little envious. All you can focus on anymore is calories. It consumes you like no other. You don't remember specific details of things you said, saw or did. Exact conversations you had with others are a bit of a blur because your mind is filled with disordered thoughts and there is no more room for specifics. Just generalizations. If you can walk quick enough though you can burn 6 calories a minute. Who cares about details in life when you could be losing weight? You enjoy your job the most because there are stairs involved. At the end of your shift you congratulate yourself for working harder than the others and take your free meal home with you in a take out container. Everyone there thinks your a little strange anyway, you don't need to eat in front of them. You don't trust them enough.
By 10pm you've usually only had water, a couple coffees and a diet coke. Maybe something small to eat if you're lucky. So you eat a little bit. Sometimes a little more and then a little more and then a litt... Fuck. On these days you swear to yourself you won't purge. You've reverted back to more restriction because at this rate all your teeth are bound to fall out soon and you'll look even more like a fool. You won't do it. But as you habitually chug that litre of water in preparation to rid yourself of everything... Just in case, you find you have no choice. You can't even stand the feeling of a substantial amount of food inside of you anymore. Just sitting there, taunting you, unable to digest in a way you can not seem to bare for another five minutes. You glance in the mirror, deep into those broken eyes with toothbrush in hand and just know it has to happen right now. If it doesn't, those sunken in, chiseled cheekbones, you've put so much work into, that a co worker just commented on 4 days ago, will be covered with fat by tomorrow morning. You can't have that happen so you lift the toilet seat up, shove that bright pink toothbrush so far down your throat you might accidentally swallow it and wait for your shame and stupidity to empty from you.
You sit on the floor as your hard work goes down the toilet and wonder when this is all going to end. When are you going to die already, because you fear that is the only way this could end and that may be better than continuing on like this for another 15 years. You can feel the scars in your soul that even you can't see. You can feel the pain in your heart and wonder if you've already caused heart damage or if you're just really that broken. And then you cover up the visible scares with pants everyday that no one really knows about because they've never seen them. You know deep down this isn't right. But you don't want help. You can't change until you ask for it but you know why you can't change. Because that voice that has stood beside you for as long as you can remember has convinced you that this is the lifestyle that you deserve. That you are so worthless that you cant do better than Him. You know this won't make you happy living this way. You're smarter than that to believe it... Right??? Right??? Against your better judgement though, because the voice is louder than your own, you believe and are hanging on to that small thread of hope that the more you fade away, the happier you will get. The more He can see those shoulder blades, the more He will assure you that this is all you deserve.
Am I happy yet...?
You wake up and through a foggy mind and sleepy eyes, strain your brain to come to a logical conclusion of what could have possibly made you feel this shitty with only the few hours that you missed in the night. Without any kind of surprise you realize once again that your life IS your reality and the creature who has left you lethargic and feeling as though you just boxed ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson is someone no one else can see. At least your ear is still in tact. The only thing pulling you out from underneath your warm cozy duvet is that voice in your head assuring you that if you don't get a move on, you will continue to get even more fat and repulsive. So you mutter a "fuck you" and drag your ass to the bathroom to start your routine. Look in the mirror, do you see that? You look like shit. The pigment from your skin is so drained you look sick and dehydrated as if you've just come home from a 5 day bender of binge drinking. You don't drink though, not really. Your eyes have a blood shot hue and the presence of insomnia lives deep within them from the slight sunken-ness and deep dark circles that surround them as decorative accents on your stupid face. As you peel away the layers you slept in, in the hopes that you would sweat calories away in the night, you've revealed a body that you'll spend the next 15 minutes examining as the shower grows hotter. You can see your ribs but are severely unsatisfied by your protruding stomach. You like that you can see your shoulder blades but not enough of your collar bone. Your hip bones are making a more definite appearance but your thighs seemed to have grown three inches over night. The only way you know you've lost anything is from the number you see on the scale but you know somehow you are getting visibly bigger and need to work harder. The bathroom is beginning to cloud over so you finally step into the scalding water and make the promise to yourself, like every other day,"I won't eat today". Dead skin is added weight so you're sure to exfoliate every part of your body to make up for anything possible. As you step out of the shower, your compulsion takes over and you spend another ten minutes criticizing yourself and are surely convinced that... The water in my pores has made me gained weight.
You wince hard from the well deserved pain of white bristles cleaning your teeth and watch has mouthfuls of crimson blood mixed with foaming pro-enamel wash down the drain. You hope that the teeth people see as you pretend to smile their way, stay inside your mouth for another day and you silently think to yourself "if I had a boyfriend, he could never watch me brush my teeth. What would he think with all that blood?". Depending on the day and if you have to work or not, you either consumer six laxatives or two diet pills and carefully choose an outfit that is acceptable for the day. The voice is getting louder the longer you take to remove yourself from the house. You are wasting precious walking time. The house is dangerous with food inside it. What you wouldn't give to spend a day on the couch watching movies. *sigh*.
Even if it's the last thing on earth you want to do, and it generally is for the most part, you start walking. You walk everywhere. Layered in clothes and boots you know you're burning tons of calories. You'd give almost anything to be able to sit down, take the subway or ride an escalator. But as your friend stands on those mobile stairs you veer a slight left and make the move to walk the stairs next to her. Feeling half embarrassed and a little envious. All you can focus on anymore is calories. It consumes you like no other. You don't remember specific details of things you said, saw or did. Exact conversations you had with others are a bit of a blur because your mind is filled with disordered thoughts and there is no more room for specifics. Just generalizations. If you can walk quick enough though you can burn 6 calories a minute. Who cares about details in life when you could be losing weight? You enjoy your job the most because there are stairs involved. At the end of your shift you congratulate yourself for working harder than the others and take your free meal home with you in a take out container. Everyone there thinks your a little strange anyway, you don't need to eat in front of them. You don't trust them enough.
By 10pm you've usually only had water, a couple coffees and a diet coke. Maybe something small to eat if you're lucky. So you eat a little bit. Sometimes a little more and then a little more and then a litt... Fuck. On these days you swear to yourself you won't purge. You've reverted back to more restriction because at this rate all your teeth are bound to fall out soon and you'll look even more like a fool. You won't do it. But as you habitually chug that litre of water in preparation to rid yourself of everything... Just in case, you find you have no choice. You can't even stand the feeling of a substantial amount of food inside of you anymore. Just sitting there, taunting you, unable to digest in a way you can not seem to bare for another five minutes. You glance in the mirror, deep into those broken eyes with toothbrush in hand and just know it has to happen right now. If it doesn't, those sunken in, chiseled cheekbones, you've put so much work into, that a co worker just commented on 4 days ago, will be covered with fat by tomorrow morning. You can't have that happen so you lift the toilet seat up, shove that bright pink toothbrush so far down your throat you might accidentally swallow it and wait for your shame and stupidity to empty from you.
You sit on the floor as your hard work goes down the toilet and wonder when this is all going to end. When are you going to die already, because you fear that is the only way this could end and that may be better than continuing on like this for another 15 years. You can feel the scars in your soul that even you can't see. You can feel the pain in your heart and wonder if you've already caused heart damage or if you're just really that broken. And then you cover up the visible scares with pants everyday that no one really knows about because they've never seen them. You know deep down this isn't right. But you don't want help. You can't change until you ask for it but you know why you can't change. Because that voice that has stood beside you for as long as you can remember has convinced you that this is the lifestyle that you deserve. That you are so worthless that you cant do better than Him. You know this won't make you happy living this way. You're smarter than that to believe it... Right??? Right??? Against your better judgement though, because the voice is louder than your own, you believe and are hanging on to that small thread of hope that the more you fade away, the happier you will get. The more He can see those shoulder blades, the more He will assure you that this is all you deserve.
Am I happy yet...?
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Its...
It's, it's so easy. It's so easy when no one sees.
It's so easy when no one cares.
It's so easy when they can turn a blind eye because that's what's easier for them.
Don't say you'll be there if you won't.
Don't say "no matter what" just to make yourself feel better because then, then you'll make someone else feel worse.
You're not obligated to help.
It's not noble to lie.
A simple "how are you" will suffice.
It's, it's so easy. It's so easy when I'm so good at hiding.
It's so easy when I'm trying not to... Trying not to.. To... Care?
It's, it's so much easier when I say "I'm fine, thanks".
This, this isn't easy to do by myself.
It's, it's so much harder to walk in the dark alone...
It's so easy when no one cares.
It's so easy when they can turn a blind eye because that's what's easier for them.
Don't say you'll be there if you won't.
Don't say "no matter what" just to make yourself feel better because then, then you'll make someone else feel worse.
You're not obligated to help.
It's not noble to lie.
A simple "how are you" will suffice.
It's, it's so easy. It's so easy when I'm so good at hiding.
It's so easy when I'm trying not to... Trying not to.. To... Care?
It's, it's so much easier when I say "I'm fine, thanks".
This, this isn't easy to do by myself.
It's, it's so much harder to walk in the dark alone...
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