Out Of Order

Freaking out about an unexpected decision What are you going to do when you have to leave? I'll find some way to deal with it. No you won't, I mean sure but not like the way I help you. ... But-- And you'll feel that word you hate. You know the word. Yes, I knew the word. I will never leave you feeling that way but without me, you'll feel it to your core.  But I still feel it now so... So can you imagine how much worse it'll be? Without me? I just... but... you're no good for me. I said that last part quietly and with doubt. We both know you don't believe that. Come on, don't let them get in your head. I'm already here, there's not enough room anyway. He snickered. I made a face. It was a joke. I'm not hurting you. He slyly questioned me, Have I ever really hurt you? You've never had a heart attack, have you? No. Your body still abides by its monthly rules, doesn't it? Well, yeah. For the most part. You've sti...

The morning after Originally written on April 3, 2017 I shouldn't have come to see you, this was a mistake. I said the next morning. What do you mean, the past three days were great? But I'm so exhausted. That's usually what happens when you have a good time. He said with a smirk. I was silent. You're not still thinking of leaving are you? I don't know. How else are you going to have such a great time? Where else are you going to get this high from? I can do other things. True. But it's not going to be anything like what we have together. I wish I could say that I responded with a snarky "that's the point" comment but I didn't. I just sat. And thought. If you really want to leave, I'll let you go. But at least let me give you this. I looked down at my wrist. What's this? It's a bracelet. A bracelet? It was connected by a chain of sorts to a similar looking "bracelet" around him. Um, okay. Well, I...

More than meets the eye I wrote this in 2015 to express how having an ed isn't easily explained as a vain pursuit for thinness or simply having food issues. While physical manifestations may point to these things, eating disorders are about so, SO much more than what our bodies show (or don't show). If you are struggling with an eating disorder or you think you or someone you know may be, please get some help. There shouldn't be any shame attributed to taking care of your mental health but unfortunately, there is. Hopefully my blog and posts such as these can encourage you to take care of yourself and seek help despite the stigma surrounding doing so. The NEDA website is a great place start if you need resources. You were created with freedom  in mind and an ed is contrary to that freedom. Please choose recovery. Iceberg 6-27-2015 It's not just all about weight Or appearance Or even food It's about anxiety Control, fear, misery, worthlessness Hatred...

NEDAW poem This is another original poem I wrote back in April 2015. With it, I hope to shed some light into the mental aspect of an ed, as we often hear a lot about the food, weight and physical aspects. If you're struggling with an ed or know someone who is, please reach out for  help or encourage them to get help. Whether it's Binge eating disorder, Bulimia, OSFED, Anorexia, or any other eating struggle, you need to get help. No one needs to struggle alone. As is mentioned on the NEDA website,  it's time to talk about it . Enjoy and as always, feedback is encouraged!  Asylum 04-18-2015 What is asylum? Wanting freedom. Being desperate. Painfully desperate for it. And admiring the chains that bind you. Rusty, heavy chains that bite into your flesh. Tear at your skin and puncture your wrists. " They're so strong, so sturdy ", you say dreamily. Each movement tightens their grip, your enslavement. But you don't mind so much. You've gr...

But way too hot So here is my obligatory post about the conflicts of Christmastime and eating disorders. I am struggling to keep my focus on the Reason for the Season  and am finding it to be so torturous engaging in the mealtime festivities. I have been able to engage in the meals but distracting myself afterwards is getting increasingly harder. The aftermath is rough. I have another Christmas party coming up and I don't know how much more I can take. It's as if we just had the Thanksgiving feast and now I'm going to all these Christmas ones. I'm feeling really tired and drained from these meals when I know I shouldn't. Ugh . I have been enjoying the company of those around whom I've been but I've still been very distracted. It definitely helps to focus on the birth of Jesus and why we celebrate (if you're a Christian) but it's very hard to do with all this extra noise in my head. There were even very brief times  this month where I felt a sma...

Delving in It's late and I have a nice amount of energy. I tend to think a lot during times like this. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and I have realized a few things. Sometimes, I hate the way I'm able to be so insightful in understanding some of the different behaviors I exhibit. Ignorance would make it much easier to continue to do them. Thinking back to a very specific time in my life when there was so much discord between my mom and sis, I realized what a lot of my coping mechanisms were for. Eating became something I was literally afraid to do because my thinking was that if there was an impending argument or any tension at home and I had eaten, the stress would go right through me-- diarrhea. So I would either be too depressed to eat or I would be afraid that I'd feel anxiety in physical symptoms-- "the runs" or an urge to "throw up my feelings"-- so I decided not eating was best. As has been stated all throughout this blog, my...

Why Why. Why. Why. It echoes inside of me and bounces around on my ruined walls. The eternal question which has not ceased to nag at me. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. I muffle it with emptiness as the beast in my pit roars and growls with hunger, its rumbling screaming over the internal voice. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. WHY. WHY?! Silence!! Stop!! No more. I don't want to hear you. Leave me alone!! I bury the voice under the pounds I shed and drown it out in the salty sweat that pours from me. Why. Why. Why. I flee from it into the coldest parts of me, stumbling over shattered pieces of my frame and cutting myself on its edges. The blood forms small beads and scabs over, protecting the exposed areas. Why. Why. Why. The voice pushes through still. Silence it, gotta silence it. Gotta find out where the voice is hiding and silence. Get rid of it. I mean, I know it's in me... but where? I increase my efforts to drive it out. More emptiness, less pounds, more...

Why I need my eating disorder Yuck, I am disgusted at that. I literally want to go scrub my tongue or something. Ugh. The other day, I was asked if I want prayer for this struggle. I was honest and shook my head no. I was then asked if I want to get better. I responded with, "I don't wanna eat a whole bunch of food again." An easy cover up of the true reasons behind my "no".  As has been discussed throughout this blog, weight is not the only culprit. In fact, I wish it were. I truly wish that I had just been consumed with only my weight and that everything else in my life had been perfect. I wish that I had only wanted to lose a few pounds so I decided that skipping a few meals or purging would be an easy fix. I wish that's all that it ever was. But it wasn't and wishes are for fairy tales. Anorexia starves away emotions too difficult to deal with. Or perceived as too difficult too deal with. It keeps my head above water when the tides are eve...

  To Purge   This is a messy one. And yes, I see the pun. Okay... Here we go. A few nights ago, something happened to me which instantly disgusted me. I mean, I felt like throwing up big time. I recoiled and wanted to scrub my body with hot water to get rid of the horrible feeling. I felt gross. And I hated what had just happened. To some, it would seem like nothing at all, but under the circumstances, it was hell. And I felt such a need, a compulsion to purge. Not any old vomiting, either. A violent, forceful act of throwing up. I was so angry and filled with hate and I wanted to take back what had happened. But obviously I couldn't. I wanted that horrible feeling out of me. I was also incredibly angry at myself for allowing it to happen. Purging in that way would've freed me of the feelings and given me an outlet for the anger. I guess it would've served as a self punishment, too. Gosh. *This is too symbolic. The way others may "eat their feelings", ...

I am infected ** Possible trigger warning It feels like a virus inside of me. Despite the causes of it (which I will discuss in a later post titled: The virus That Started it All) and even when there is not an outstanding weight preoccupation or anorexic cognitions -- as a dear friend put it-- certain behaviors feel necessary. Like a must . A result of having been infected with Anorexia. Like when someone has a cold, it doesn't matter whether they caught it from someone else or their own actions led to it, the cold causes their body to react in certain ways. When I awaken, my first thought is not always that I have to lose weight or not gain, though it may be to restrict a meal or skip it altogether just because I have to. Because it feels right. Of course, the weight aspect will come into play but it may not always start things off. I may know that eating this one slice of bread will not make me get any bigger and yet, I can't eat it. Because that would be wrong. Now is ...

Simple prose It's an object used to weigh or measure. I guess I feel like I have been on this scale my whole life. Trying to measure my worth, trying to determine my weight and pull in life so that I may reduce it. The scale tells me everything I need to know. You could say my perfectionism is the scale or maybe it's my ed. Probably both, lot's of things I'm sure. Like my insecurities. Definitely those. The scale tells me how well I'm doing and that I could be doing better. It tells  you how well I'm doing and you think I should be doing better, too. It helps to keep me in line, in perfect order when everything else is out of it. Creates a nice, little suffocating world of rules and lists-- and I love lists. And I love numbers. But I hate math.. Hmm... Maybe I don't love numbers, I'm just obsessed with them. They calm me or enrage and depress me, depending on what they say. Numbers talk and sometimes I wish they'd just shut up! Whether I us...