Don’t Let The Pot Boil Over
I felt as though I lost control of my life so I turned to a different aspect of my body that I could control—what I was eating.
Topic: eating disorder
I felt as though I lost control of my life so I turned to a different aspect of my body that I could control—what I was eating.
My eating disorder no longer lived in the places where only I noticed its existence, it had begun to leak into places I never intended it to go
I struggled heavily with my self-image and confidence and tried tirelessly to fit into a mold that I wasn't built for.
I was trying to expel things to make room for happiness. But the control never led to the happiness or relief I expected.
I turned my pain into a quirky trait and a joke.
I watched those ten years on my recovery clock decrease back down to zero. It felt as though every bit of hard work that I’d sewn into my recovery had been undone.
Pregnancy is a demanding process, but it’s also nearly enough to trigger a recovered anorexic like me into a frenzy.
Most of my "ideals" or things folks call "resolutions" around this time of year aren't actually what I want for myself but are what I assume others want for me.
We’re taught and encouraged to feel and honor a single emotion when the holiday season is upon us.
I was right, in a way, about the day the elevator opened: I could never go back again.
My stomach is full, which feels wrong, but I know it’s not.
I knew then that things would never be the same from that point forward: the anorexia as resistance, the depression as loss of control, the fleeing to another country as delusion, the dying and then not dying and then dying and then not dying.
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