weak
there are many things i want my daughter to inherit from me. musical talent. open-mindedness. my inability to hold a grudge. fierce loyalty to those she loves.
my eating disorder is not one of them.
i don't want her to hate the scale and the feeling of worthlessness that accompanies it. i don't want her to always feel that pull, the temptation to restrict, the sense of being completely out of control, the obsessiveness.
when you know what something is, what it can do to you, the dangers involved, but you can't stop yourself from doing it anyway, that's sick. when you know that it can kill you if you let it take you away...but you still want it to, you want it to completely consume you so that the pain that you feel whenever you breathe is drowned out by the voices in your head, the voices screaming at you that if you eat, you fail, if you eat, you're weak...
when you try to stop, it doesn't just go away. it never does. it's always there, buried deep under the healthy mantras that you try to fill your head with. it lies in wait for that moment when it knows you're at your weakest, when you've made a mistake, when you've stopped doing the healthy thing for two seconds, like a snake it lies in wait for you to feel that one moment of self-doubt. then that fire you thought you smothered is back, it blazes to life again, strong as ever.
the voices scream: if you eat today, if you eat today, you FAIL. you're WEAK to let it have that power over you. your stomach growls and you remember how good being empty feels. how it makes you feel strong. above it all. you'll never get away from this. it's control. it's a pain that you can control, a pain that has nothing to do with anything of the outside world, and all to do with you. YOU control the pain. but you still fail. no matter what. and you'll never be enough.
no. no. NO! stop. breathe.
i don't want my little girl to hear those voices. i don't want ANYONE to have to hear that, to have to feel that. i wish that i could make them stop.
my eating disorder is not one of them.
i don't want her to hate the scale and the feeling of worthlessness that accompanies it. i don't want her to always feel that pull, the temptation to restrict, the sense of being completely out of control, the obsessiveness.
when you know what something is, what it can do to you, the dangers involved, but you can't stop yourself from doing it anyway, that's sick. when you know that it can kill you if you let it take you away...but you still want it to, you want it to completely consume you so that the pain that you feel whenever you breathe is drowned out by the voices in your head, the voices screaming at you that if you eat, you fail, if you eat, you're weak...
when you try to stop, it doesn't just go away. it never does. it's always there, buried deep under the healthy mantras that you try to fill your head with. it lies in wait for that moment when it knows you're at your weakest, when you've made a mistake, when you've stopped doing the healthy thing for two seconds, like a snake it lies in wait for you to feel that one moment of self-doubt. then that fire you thought you smothered is back, it blazes to life again, strong as ever.
the voices scream: if you eat today, if you eat today, you FAIL. you're WEAK to let it have that power over you. your stomach growls and you remember how good being empty feels. how it makes you feel strong. above it all. you'll never get away from this. it's control. it's a pain that you can control, a pain that has nothing to do with anything of the outside world, and all to do with you. YOU control the pain. but you still fail. no matter what. and you'll never be enough.
no. no. NO! stop. breathe.
i don't want my little girl to hear those voices. i don't want ANYONE to have to hear that, to have to feel that. i wish that i could make them stop.