October 25, 2015

Odd one out

So I have always felt like the girl who didn't belong. In school growing up, at former churches (sad, I know), at work, I just felt like I could not fit in or "join" any group. I was always the odd one. I didn't, however, feel this way with my family; I felt fine around my mom and sister. Sure, I felt pressure and a heavy weight of responsibility but I didn't feel like an outcast. Not until October 25, 2015. You see that blue pencil up there? That was me after returning from Res, I was broken. I was broken and everyone around me knew it. I couldn't hide it or cover it up anymore. I was an alien compared to those closest to me, my brain and the way it worked was different. And the difference was so visible to me as I immersed myself back into "home" life. The way I related to food was so different than those who lived with me. It's hard to explain but I can feel the difference in myself, in my brain. I can tell how different I am compared to my sister (and it feels as if I'm constantly reminded by others of how different we are). She enjoys food and eats when she wants, when she's hungry and even if she just wants a bit more. Her relationship with food is the best I've ever seen. Even better than my mom's, and my mom has a great relationship with food.

I've never known my sister to worry about her weight or want to lose in order to fit in any outfit or get ready for any type of "bikini body" season (if anything, she's wanted to gain since she was a child-- which I can not imagine). To her, food is just food and her body is just her body. She eats to satisfy her hunger and she just exists in her body as she should, without giving it any thought. She just lives, and it's beautiful to witness. When I got back to The House on 48, I was aware of the huge difference between my habits and behaviors and everyone else's. I felt so awful and exposed and out in the open. I wanted to hide. Looking back, I feel like I had the word OUTCAST on my face. The contrast was almost palpable to me. It was like learning everything all over, in a way.

People really eat three times a day? Sometimes more? Why do they expect me to have breakfast, I just had dinner last night? This is just too much. I've noticed that anytime I do actually eat, the next time I'm faced with the task again, whether it is an hour later or eight hours later, at least one of my thoughts is "Again, I just did this?!". Eating always feels like "I just did this" no matter how far apart it has actually been. And I know that's not normal. Do others really not think about their next meal with disdain? There was a time before all of this where I looked forward to eating and...

That pause was not for dramatic affect, I'm just hurt by the memory of how I used to be "normal" in my eating (meaning I didn't restrict or starve or fast) and I honestly don't want to go down that lane tonight. This is so weird, this thing called Anorexia. It's like an alternate universe in which I'm living. It's upside down and inside out. It's a universe that makes sense to me, though. It's a universe that I don't want to leave because, yes, I'm afraid to do so. It's a universe of organized, personalized, structured chaos tailored to my fears, I mean needs. Tailored to my needs.

Well, I went somewhere with this other than where I thought. My hands and feet are freezing and I have another post I want to work on. Great, I'm doing something I hate doing, feeling. Bleh.