Trying Again
That’s the thing about anorexia, you never believe you are sick enough.
Topic: eating disorders
That’s the thing about anorexia, you never believe you are sick enough.
It was hard to face the truth that no matter how fast the number on the scale dropped, how long I could go starving myself, or how small my waistline got, it would never be enough.
The thing that I was the best at controlling was what food I put into my body and how much of it I chose to consume and when.
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 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.
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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