I’ve been struggling. I’ve been struggling with my mind, my body, my weight, and my wanting to recover. I want recovery. I really do, but I can’t seem to get myself to care enough to try. All I want to do is lose weight. My mind is set on it. It has created goal weights and plans. It yells and hates. It restricts and binges.
I wanted my life to go differently. I turned 20 yesterday. I’ve had my eating disorder for almost 5 years. I have gotten nowhere with it. It didn’t make me smaller (in fact it made me gain more weight), it didn’t make me happier; it didn’t keep me safe and it didn’t fix things. Yet every time I think about it, I want to go back there. I want to lose the weight. I want to be as small as I was before. I want my small waist back, my hip bones and thigh gap. I want my collar bones and cheeks to be more defined, for my arms to be thinner and I want to see the bones of my hands again. I know I was miserable and I know that I felt like shit all the time, but it doesn’t matter. Right now I want to be in that body, and that’s what my eating disorder is planning to do.
I try to put things into perspective but I can’t. Nothing feels like it makes sense. Everything seems wrong. Eating is wrong, restricting is wrong, purging is wrong, doing nothing is wrong. There is no winning, but the only one out of all of those that makes me feel better, that calms my anxiety, is not eating. It makes me feel like I’m getting smaller. It means I’m disappearing; there is less of me to hate, less of me to ignore, and less of me to be annoyed by.
Being smaller means going away. It means that I get to hide away in plain sight. It means that I can feel justified in being depressed and eating disordered. It won’t just be in my mind anymore. I will feel better, even if only for a little while. I need to feel better because feeling like this is painful. It hurts me. I feel like a failure all the time. Every time I eat, drink or look in the mirror.
I’m disgusting. I’m sad. I am so very alone.