Banana Slices
I turned my pain into a quirky trait and a joke.
Topic: eating disorders
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.
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.
Amidst all the things I couldn’t control, there before me was something I could: my weight.
My eating disorder looks quiet to the outside world.
What I have done throughout my recovery is not only find a way for me to have a better relationship with food—although that is a major part of the process—but to also see the roots beneath the tree of my disorder, helping me to unveil the bigger picture.
I was always just a little too much, even when there wasn’t much there for me to even be.
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