Let’s recognize the previous post for what it is: the eating disorder’s complete monopolization of my thoughts about myself.
Harsh, untrue, malicious, evil words were the only words I spoke to myself over the last 36 hours.
That’s what happens when I’m forced to push down monumental emotions of panic and hurt or grief and depression. It’s the most back-ass-words way to survive.
I rendered myself compassionless (for myself). I told myself I felt lonely and abandoned because I was unworthy of love.
Because the teenager in me was angry. Because adult-me was stressed and anxious. Because little me needed to be held and cry. And none of these things were allowed because I had tasks that needed to be done.
The teenager in me is a wild rollercoaster. I find it horrifying. I have no idea how to allow those emotions without hating myself.
So here I am, only moments away from teen wolf (teamed up with ED) biting my own head off, trying to find an inkling of compassion to latch on to and get to a more reasonable headspace that doesn’t include seething, hateful words I’d never dream of saying about anyone else.
The teen shadows are dark and scary and maybe I’m not ready to explore any of this.