I hate to admit this. I am so stubborn. I am afraid. I’m afraid of nothing and everything.
I wanted to write about exercise addiction. I can’t find the words or memories or get them to come back. I can’t bring back the feelings. “Oh but that’s a good thing” you might be thinking. No, it’s not. I’m stuck. My brain feels like a broken record…or to be more contemporary, it’s like a song on repeat.
I’ve been ducking and dodging my thoughts. I’m hiding from them as best I can, but it’s not working. I see ed in unexpected places. He teases and tantalizes me.
I’m so angry, because these things should come naturally. Eating food and feeding myself should not be something that induces fear.
I have moments of clarity, when the real me shows up and reminds me that it’s just food. It’s just control, it’s just fear, it’s just the unknown. It’s just me.
It’s hard to let go. This is all I have known for so long. I find such pleasure in hurting myself. I tell myself I don’t deserve anything. Ed chimes in and agrees.
But I know this isn’t true. Who the hell is this interloper who has taken over my life? I am not myself. I’m like a hacked computer. I once was something that did work quickly, logically, and concisely. Now a virus has taken over, a download gone awry. Ed was lurking since my birth, feeding off of fear.
Now my fears are exacerbated. They are tenfold, and yet condensed into one. Food. Food, food, food. I say I’m afraid, but I’m not. There is still some part of me, fading in and out, that knows how to function. But I’m not running at 100%. I’m not afraid of gaining weight, yet if you tell me I need to gain and I balk at the thought. Why? How is this hardwired into me? I never cared about my weight.
But I don’t love my body. I never have. There’s always been something, but I whispered about it to myself in the darkest corners of my mind. These thoughts and feelings weren’t real, because no one ever told me how to feel this way. I stumbled upon it myself.
I have lost something that used to be as natural as walking or breathing. I’m paralyzed. Disabled. Handicapped. I used to ask why. Why me? I like to think it’s my burden to carry. But that’s not true. So many other people people have been burdened with this too.
I’m fighting for myself, but for others too. That’s hard. It’s so hard because I want to do well so no one will worry. And I honestly do want to do well for myself (moment of clarity right there). I know it took me years to get here, so I have years to “get better”, right? But no, I have to do this as fast as possible because I must win and trick ed and not think so much because that only trips me up…
I’m not quitting. But I’m slowing down. Maybe it’s time. Maybe I need to really come to terms with things and think things through as much as possible. Maybe. Or maybe it’s just today. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe ed will stop nipping at my heels and leave me alone for a while. Maybe? Maybe not.
I’m fighting against myself you know. I’ve given my problems ugly little names to make them seem all clean and tidy. There we go, all good now. All of my problems are one thing now! I’m not as messed up as I thought I was! Think again, you. Ed is all of this disgusting and selfish stuff all rolled into one. He’s anxiety, fear, anger, restriction, harm, negative thoughts, depression, paranoia, mental illness. He’s so much. I hate him, because he’s what is messing up all of the stuff I want to go right.
He comes in the form of so many things, and yet I call it an eating disorder. He has so many facets, just like a jewel but not anywhere near as pretty. He’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. But he lives through me. It’s hard not to hate myself as much as I hate ed, because in some ways I am my worst enemy.
These words…they’re my feelings. I have so many feelings right now. I just want to shut it all off. I don’t have a fancy sentence or thought to leave you with. So I’ll just leave this here…