Where do I turn when all that face me are walls?
Sometimes I pull the plug on my emotions so that I can live. Sometimes I tell myself I will fix it tomorrow even though I know that this leads to a never ending wait for a day that never comes. But sometimes, I do this because I am too weak for today to be a battle. So I let it win, I let them win, I let myself lose. I binge, I cry, I question, I hate, I despair, but most of all I find I don’t really think, because I can’t bring myself to do that for its consequences may be too dire.
I have to tell myself that today doesn’t exist. Today isn’t another day of my life being thrown down a bottomless pipe of wasted time. Today I couldn’t have achieved anything other than self-pity anyway. Today wasn’t real. Today is a day where time has stopped because if I accept how much I could have accomplished if ED had not won then I feel so alone, so afraid, and so desperately hopeless. I have been doing this for four years now, and I turn round to see four years floating away behind me that I have forever lost.
Are these years not meant to be the best of my life? I am young, I have so much to do and so much to achieve and so much to smile about. Instead I cry, in my bed, feel alone, and worry about how I will recover and if this is a dream that will ever come true. These are not my dream years that they are supposed to be but a suffocating fight for a potentially impossible freedom. Why oh why am I wasting my life simply so that bulimia can live inside of me?
It is like a fetus. It takes everything from me. It takes so much energy and so much strength but I can’t let it go, because I am so emotionally tied to it I don’t know how I would cope. Yet once it is gone I don’t think I will want it back. But how do I let it go forever? It is like an evil child, my evil child. I cannot kill it off because it is a child, and not just any child but mine. It is alive so how can I kill it? I couldn’t kill a fly. But it is destructive, hateful, loathsome. It hates me and I hate it. We despise eachother. It wants to kill me and I want to kill it. But I cannot. How do I kill something that is so dependent on me whilst I am also so dependent on it?!
I am spinning in circles. I am stuck on a roundabout yet I am not only getting dizzy from going round it so many times, but I am running out of fuel. I cannot do this forever. Obviously. I have a life to lead. Why am I here?
I try to believe I am not alone in this but that can be difficult when nobody can hold your hand because you are living on another planet.
I try to believe the disorder doesn’t rule me, but that is hard when my life seems to revolve around its existence. It is an excuse, a validation, a fight that I must accommodate every single day.
My head is full of so much sh*t. It is only my head but I am sure if I were to puncture it, it would be the equivalent of opening Pandora’s box. Never ending negativity.
Do you understand? Tell me you understand. Tell me I am sane. Tell me I am still human. Tell me I am not a walking disease. Tell me, that I will be okay. Tell me that recovery isn’t a myth. Tell me that I can be the girl I want to be. Tell me I am as good as everyone else. Tell me I don’t need to change. Tell me I am stronger than Ed. Tell me that he is dying now. Tell me I am at least half way there, half way through recovery, because it is such a struggle.
I feel like I am pulling a steam train up a hill. A massive black hunk of metal that is thousands of times my size. I am at the front, pulling it by a rope that wares down on my shoulder, and I am worried I will not be able to take much more. My whole body aches and my mind is sick of questioning any method to let me carry on and let me keep pulling. But I can’t let go because then it will fall and I will have to go all the way to the bottom, cry, hate myself, and start all over again. I cant do this again. It is so hard. But I can’t see the top, I can’t see how much further I have to go. I need to turn round, and see that you are right behind me, pulling the train with me, getting it to the top with me, and that this weight won’t drag me down if I fall or let go. That it is not hanging on by my raw hands that function from my raw nerves that are communicated to by my destructed brain.