This.

My greatest fear is that one day I'll wake up and realize I don't have many more days of waking up, and that I wasted my life away in a mad sea of uncontrollable emotional chaos that swelled into an eating disorder which never took my life but took my life.

Temporary Relief

I am more vulnerable and more willing to let go and trust out of sheer desperation. I don't want to be here, eclipsed by my own harrowing thoughts. Some sort of reprieve came this morning, though. Today was so good. I reached out and used my own strength to get through meals I know I…

48 hours

Same shirt Same hair No shower Not enough food Not enough water No exercise Tears stream when I wake up, when it's silent, when I'm alone, in my dreams No crying Canceled social plans Added watching others' children *** In the deepest darkness, I envisioned calling my mother and after only getting out a few…

Face First into a Brick Wall

It's a me thing. It's not a medication thing, an environmental thing, or any other outside factor. If I was created this way, then I must be meant to experience intense depression. It's supposed to show me something ... or something. I brought myself to this place. I have to bring myself out of this…

Void

Therapy put me back in my body, but I left hours later at the sight of my stomach. Sweet, sweet 2-year-old kisses and 4-year-old hugs put me back in my body, until nap time happened and silence ensued. Reaching out put me back in my body long enough to eat a lunch that was practically…

It’s OK to get Better

"What would it look like to have compassion?" "I mean I do for my ma-" "For yourself?" Maybe I have writer's block. Maybe self-compassion is so buried it's undetectable and I can't bring it close enough to the surface to see. Maybe I actually have none. What would the story be if I could give…

Therapy

"I missed you!" But why? She has almost exclusively witnessed and listened to and talked about my worst. There are very few things I've left out, mostly because I don't find them relevant, that could make me look any worse. Literal recounts of intentional puking and constant written and verbal vomit reeking with guilt and…

Giving Up

Me, last night, in a text I deleted twice and never ended up sending: I'm crying over dinner. I want to quit so badly. Don't let me. Please don't give up on me. I didn't send it because I thought it would be received as overdramatic or attention-seeking, or childish. But it is exactly what I was…

Full Disclosure

Anorexia sent me to Walmart seven days ago to buy a scale. We needed a few other things, and $6.99 seemed a small price to pay to settle feeling rejected. I couldn't even hear myself. Anorexia had a mission, and she completed it. This is the cheapest, most difficult to read, and probably most inaccurate,…