Sometimes I feel like a liar.
Like, a really terrible person. A liar liar pants on fire.
I guess this is just how I feel sometimes. I know it's probably silly, but sometimes these feelings creep into my brain like some rotting, maggoty, green, slimy sickness that plunks itself right in the middle of my head and as it decomposes it releases all of these terrible thoughts.
You call yourself a warrior.
People think you're an inspiration? What have you done, really?
Why do you waste your time with this shit? Nothing is going to come of it.
You can't even enjoy the food you used to.
You're unemployed. You live at home. Useless. Lazy. Mooch.
How can you call yourself brave when you can't even order a mocha in a café out of fear?
So you went to that conference, that's really no measure of strength.
You're fooling yourself.
No one is going to see past the label.
Date? Your last boyfriend left you because of me, why would anyone else want to be involved?
So. Here I am. This "warrior". This person so many people apparently look up to. Is this really what being in recovery looks like? I mean. I've made so much progress. I have taken leaps that I never dreamed of taking. I have made myself vulnerable, put myself out there, hurt and have been hurt... But yet... I feel as if it's not enough. I do what I need to do. I work to develop a positive relationship with my body. I eat. I eat a lot (and it's awesome)...But I've been bugging myself lately. How can I preach this recovery stuff when I can't even allow myself to eat a cookie that my mother brought home from the bakery? For God sake, I won't even let myself have a full slice of oatmeal brown bread! I sometimes limit myself to a piece of chocolate when I really want more. I sometimes consider an "indulgence" taking a small bite of something "forbidden". I still view some foods as "forbidden". Some days I feel as if I don't "deserve" rest days from the gym, or to go to yoga, to sing at choir, or to see a friend because I am not "worthy" or as a way to "punish" myself. I sometimes scrutinize my growing body. Don't get me wrong. Most of the time, I love that shit. Hips, tits, muscles, legs, a full face, color in my skin, nice hair and nails... But then there's the fragmentation.
You're getting puffy there.
Look at that bra bulge
.
.
Turn the other way, you're showing your fat side.
This. Friends. Is bullshit. I know we all have bad days. I know body positivity isn't a 24 hour a day, seven days a week thing. I know that this disorder manifests itself in trying to destroy happiness, control me, and take away everything I love leaving me worthless, vulnerable and scared. It's something I never want to go back to, and these thoughts scare the piss out of me. The fact of the matter is that I do everything in my goddamn power to fight. Sometimes it involves crying. Sometimes it involves screaming obscenities at ED in my head. Sometimes it involves being numb, staring at the ceiling, and wondering
Why in the fuck can't I just let this go?
Yes, I know these things take time. I know I shouldn't blame myself. But sometimes it's just hard. Some days are tough. Others are not. I'm so lucky to have a fantastic support system, to have new friends that see past the diagnosis, to have the fucking resilience to wake up every morning, vowing to kick ass no matter what.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I struggle. We all do. This is not sunshine and rainbows. I have said this before and I'm saying it again. The important part is not letting it get the best of us.
Warriors. So many of us going through this shit. Men and women, young and old. Families, friends, lovers. Everyone is affected. It isn't fucking fair, but it's a reality. So take the shitty times and use them to give you strength. At least, that's what I'm trying to do.
I really just need to find that bravery. That spark.
Heath
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I struggle. We all do. This is not sunshine and rainbows. I have said this before and I'm saying it again. The important part is not letting it get the best of us.
Warriors. So many of us going through this shit. Men and women, young and old. Families, friends, lovers. Everyone is affected. It isn't fucking fair, but it's a reality. So take the shitty times and use them to give you strength. At least, that's what I'm trying to do.
I really just need to find that bravery. That spark.
Heath
Love this post! <3
ReplyDeleteThis sounds like you are in the exact same position as me. Almost stuck in limbo - not looking ill or starving yourself, but not fully LIVING. Eating most things/everything but still finding some way to stay safe. I guess we have to remind ourselves that it took so many months/years to become ill and therefore it will take the same to recover. And look at how far we have come! Ok, we may not be able to indulge like others but even a bite of something like that would be completely unthinkable to start with. Don't be too hard on yourself because you really are doing amazingly well xxx
ReplyDeleteHey Heather, I found your blog through Instagram. You might remember but we were both on Windsor's first floor. I've read an absurd amount of your blog in a day. I am so impressed by your strength after you were hit so intensely with an eating disorder. I am very relieved to see your improvement and admire your honesty about how hard it is. I had eating disorder (though I never got hospitalized, maybe it was more like the limbo that Samantha above mentioned) when I was younger, and I remember exactly when it started. My family started moving annually for a while, and on one of our car trips to a new hometown, my dad kept playing License to Chill by Jimmy Buffet on repeat. This happened for several days. I felt like I had zero control of my life, and then my dad asked me if I wanted a muffin and I very consciously said "no" and felt like I had something I could control. I lost a lot of weight for about a year, I would do really stupid stuff to affirm my "control", like preparing food, putting it to my lips and then putting it in the fridge. I remember once counting an apple as 400 calories. It's funny how the little stuff people say can encourage it too. My sister once called me "heroin chic" and that phrase really encouraged me to continue my abusive eating habits. I can't think of anything I hate more than the phrase "heroin chic". Maybe the phrase "real women have curves", because it made me feel really embarrassed about how thin I was while I was also so afraid of gaining weight. Pictures on the internet, etc, of women with pronounced rib cages and shoulder blades showing through their back still allure me in a way that I find upsetting. I love fashion but I do not follow a lot of those blogs anymore because I don't love the singular body they celebrate.
ReplyDeleteI was interested in your blog that discussed the way that the brain causes feedback that encourages anorexia. I remember enjoying the feeling of being hungry, and not feeling hungry too often. I told my mom, and she told me that part of anorexia was having an absence of hunger. I realized that I was going to have to make sure I remembered to eat.
I once called up my best friend to complain about how I hated some new belly fat I had acquired, then realized that she was totally about 200 pounds. I thought about how beautiful I found her at her weight, and realized that my self hate encouraged other people who were larger than me to feel like they should REALLY hate their bodies. I think about how I can appreciate other people's curvy bodies, but often fear having my own. As I slowly gain my first curves of my life, I am thinking about my curves as an embodiment of my self love. It makes me feel proud of my body instead of insecure.