I am sorry I have been gone so long. I don’t have much of a reason other than that of getting bogged down with life. But I am back now.
Sometimes I let myself get swallowed up by the hope that I am beginning to know will inevitably remain false. I don’t know if I am strong enough to fight this. I don’t know how to keep treading through a life paved with doubt, guilt, self-hatred and fear. Confusion. Who am I if I am not this disorder that has taken 4 years of my life? How do I come out of it being who I always was when it has physically and mentally scarred me?
It is so powerful. So so powerful. And I am starting to think I am not. I cannot live with this anymore but equally I cannot die. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to have bulimia anymore.
It makes me so sad. So desperately sad, trapped, hopeless and helpless. I am drowning, I can’t breathe, and sometimes I emerge over the surface but the next wave comes crashing down and swallows me again and I don’t know if I really have it in me to fight and swim anymore. It’s getting dark and I don’t know if I’ll ever see the sunrise, the light, the answer, the solution, the freedom, the exit. I want somebody to hold my hand now, show me the way, every day, until I can stand alone. But nobody is capable of doing that because as soon as I think I am there I shake them off and tell them I’m fine, only to crash back down again. I am on a spring and I stretch away from the bottom of it and think I have got away but it drags me back, sucks me back no matter how much I will it not to.
I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t write to you.
I feel so lost. I remember when I went for a walk one Christmas about 5 years ago and got completely and utterly lost. I had the same feeling of fear, desperation, coldness and lonesomeness. I was with my dad but of course if we were lost, he didn’t know the answer either. Nobody knows the answer and it is terrifying. Stranded. My phone had no signal so I felt so disconnected, so isolated. I could look in any direction but all I could see were rolling hills and wooded areas, whilst the dark loomed in further and further to swallow us up. We found our way that time even if we did have to climb some barbed wire and other obstacles that lay in our way. But I don’t know if this time I’ll manage with such success.
My head feels empty. There are days when it is full of stuff it should be full of. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, words, ideas, plans. But then there are days when the ED swells up so much that my mind has no capacity left for anything else. No space. It is completely satiated by this disorder, this disease. There is no space for me – whoever I may be – but only space for it. And those days are the worst because I am not human anymore. I am a failure, a mess, a cruel ED. I am not good enough for myself and so I let it consume me instead although it makes me sick and tired and miserable to do so. Actually no I don’t ‘let’ it, it forces itself upon me when I am at my weakest. I am hollow today. I am not the girl I was 5 years ago, not the girl for whom I am loved, not the girl with ambitions and dreams; today I’m not the girl with a genuine smile, not the girl who achieves, not the girl who is happy and hopeful, not a girl at all. I am it, I am consumed by it, and there is nothing to me except it. Tomorrow, I hope, will be different.