What Smaller Means

Tags

Anorexia, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, fat, hate, recovery, thin, weight

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.

Fake Smiles

Tags

Anorexia, anxiety, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, poem, poetry, sad, suicide

The birds they sing.
The wind it howls.
The girl sits down and smiles.

Two Words

Tags

Anorexia, anxiety, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, poem, poetry, sad, suicide

the worst
two words
disordered people
will ever
hear whispered
deep in
their mind:
“I’m back”

Pretend

Tags

Anorexia, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, poem, poetry, sad, suicide

I need help
I’m not okay
I don’t know what to say

I can’t ask for help
No one hears my screams
I’m buried deep inside my cries

My eyes stay dry
My voice is still
I pretend the world is fine

Untitled

Tags

Anorexia, depression, eating disorder, ednos, poem, poetry, sad, suicide

I don’t want to remember.
I don’t want the sadness.
I don’t want the world to see me.
I don’t want cry.
I don’t want to hurt anymore.
I just want it to stop.

Cold Arms

Tags

Anorexia, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, numb, poem, poetry, sad

Silent whispers whirl around
Others tread on fragile ground
Cold arms begin to suffocate
Once they do there is no escape
Words of others with no meaning
Makes it hard to keep on eating
Sadness steals what was regained
Crushing anything that still remained

Return

Tags

Anorexia, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, poem, poetry, sad, suicide, weight

And again it begins.
It returns without a care in the world.
To destroy what was left.

Thoughts Unfinished

Tags

Anorexia, eating disorder, Eating Issue, ed, ednos, recovery, treatment

I’m doing it again. I can’t finish anything I write. I have a journal full of half written entries, I have 8 wordpress drafts and a barely started post that I just published. I felt that I just needed to get that one out there. I didn’t know how to finish it because the day just got worse and worse. I didn’t want to just leave it there because I still feel the way I did that night. The only difference is that I can’t seem to be able to control the feelings that are built up inside. I can’t process them and I can’t understand them. I guess that’s why I can’t finish anything I write.

I told my counselor that it was extremely frustrating to not be able to finish writing things. I can’t completely express myself which is what I really need to be able to do to release everything that’s in my head. He told me that I may not be able to finish any of it because the things that I’m writing about aren’t finished. The eating disorder, the urges, the depression, they are all still there and I have no idea how exactly they are going to end. He has a point. The thoughts I have, even though the days are over and time has passed, haven’t fully been processed. I don’t know what they mean or how they are going to affect the rest of my life.

One of the big things that are in the huge cloudy mess that is the unknown in my life is treatment. I have no idea what that will be like. What the house will look and feel like. How the people are going to be, the treatment I will have, the fact of whether or not I’ll be keeping my treatment team or not. All of this is scares me. I have no idea what to expect next Tuesday. I expect that they will weigh me, but I don’t know how I will react to that. I except that I will be scared and anxious. I expect that I will gain weight even thought people tell me I won’t. I’m hoping that I will be able to be honest but I’m not entirely sure how honest I can be talking to new people I have never met before. One thing I was expecting to tell them was that I had never purged, but that is no longer true.

January 2nd, 2013 almost 5 years since I promised myself that I would never purge I did.When I saw my counselor I told him and said that I knew for certain that I would never become a ‘finger-down-my-throat’ bulimic. Yet every time I feel that i have eaten too much my initial instinct is to think about purging because of how much I can’t stand the amount of weight I’ve gained. Yet I also think about the fact that since I did it once and I know that I can, if I ever feel like I really have to I will.

My mind keeps racing. I need to be able to write and I’m surprised I’ve written this much already. My grandmother is sick and I think she’ll dying, but I can’t fully process it because she raised me. I’m going to treatment, but I can’t process it because I don’t know what will happen. I’m trying to recover, but I can’t process it because I’m not sure I want to let it go. I’m not sure I can let it go.

I’m at a loss for words. Maybe that’s it?

What A Great Start To A New Year

Tags

Anorexia, anxiety, depression, eating disorder, ednos, fat, weight

January 1st, 2013

This year started off less than perfect. It began with me not wanting to go out last night. I got dressed and froze. I looked in the mirror. My legs were massive, my thighs were touching and my hips and body were wide. I wanted to die. I can’t believe how much weight I’ve gained. I wanted to cut and purge. I wanted to take the fat off my body. I looked in the mirror and felt horrid. I felt like a sausage. A massive sausage full of fat. I was a massive lard ass going out to a party. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay in my room and not move. I thought about not going out. I knew I had to do it so I set up my room in a way that I know I would have needed it when I came back feeling horrible.

I’m losing and it isn’t weight I’m losing.

I’m Going Into Treatment

Tags

Anorexia, anxiety, depression, eating disorder, ed, ednos, fat, mental-health, recovery, treatment, weight

I don’t really know how much more elaborate I can be about that statement. I’m going into treatment. It seems pretty simple. I got put on a waiting list a year ago. In April, things got worse. My psychiatrist and psychologist called insisting that they consider my application because I was getting worse. They threatened to hospitalize me. The treatment clinic said June. June came and went. In July my psychologist called again. They said that it would be at the end of the year. She spoke to the head of the clinic at a conference and he said the longest you can stay on the waiting list is 10 months. August comes and I have the ‘end of the waiting list’ follow up. They tell my treatment team December. December comes after months of eating barely anything and then eating and wanting to kill myself and cutting. My psychiatrist calls again. They tell him January. He tells me that they said the wait would have been longer, but he told them that I needed treatment now. Today I get a phone call. Intake is scheduled for January 15.

I got the call and I was more than surprised. I thought January was going to be like June. I thought it was going to come and go. It didn’t. I freaked out. My heart started racing. I didn’t know what to think. The first thought was that they would laugh because of how fat I was. Then I thought they were going to make me fat. I don’t know how they are going to treat me. I don’t know anything about what’s going to happen or what I will have do. I don’t even know how they can help me. I’m weight restored. I’m normal. I’m cured. They are going to take one look at me and that will be that. I don’t need treatment. I’m fine.