I don’t know how to live without my Eating Disorder.
So I don’t leave my house very often.
Only on an “as needed” basis, and while I’m out, I feel like a bumbling idiot.
I’m nervous. Around everyone.
It’s stupid. But I can’t stop it.
I like to hide in my house with baby girl and baby dog and my sister who visits me often.
I like to stare at the floor and hear my phone go off with people asking if I’ll go have a beer?
Sure….oh but wait…I can’t. I have to do “(Fill in Blank with Excuse)”.
The truth is I don’t know how to interact with people not having my eating disorder.
My sister is the only person.
When I am trying to be social, not engaging in my “symptoms” of TRUE anorexia for quite some time now, I wind up making awkward conversation and excusing myself to leave as soon as I can. Or, I get blistering drunk. Like, you probably couldn’t imagine the states within which I arrive home.
There were times I would try to make myself puke immediately because I was terrified I was about to have alcohol poisoning.
I don’t know why I do that.
All or nothing drinking.
At one time I used to introduce myself as a “Recovering Eating Disordered Alcoholic” at AA.
The thing was, I only had issues with alcohol outside of my eating disorder. Either I am eating disordered, or show tendency of alcoholism.
How often do we all transfer addictions?
Mine are endless.
My mothers are too.
I am praying baby girl turns out different.
I teach her the truth and that is all that I can do.
Addictions are lies.
We tell to ourselves.
They are the greatest lies of all.
We destroy ourselves, our family, our bodies, our futures, our hope, or resilience, our spirit.
We break ourselves down, with some sick illusion that “Eventually” everything will turn into something good.
We knowingly take a substance or an action that we are aware will alter or mental, emotional, and physical state of being, and then permanently decide in that state, that this is our lives need to be.
We escape reality.
I wonder if I will ever know what it feels like to live.
Sometimes I wonder if I ever felt it as a child.
Sometimes I wonder why I moved over when they x-ray-ed my lungs, and they instead captured my heart, and discovered there was a hole in it. At 6 years old.
The surgeon told my great grandmother that I would not have survived past the age of 10, had I not moved.
I heard him say that. At 6 years old.
I could have died.
Sometimes, I wonder if I should have died.
But then again, I haven’t given up on my “purpose” just yet. Even with it being as elusive as it is.
I think I am not able to live outside of this house without my Eating Disorder because I have become “comfortable” with the idea that I am absolutely hideous. A train wreck. Entirely undesirable and unfit to be in public. I refuse to go buy clothes that fit…for whatever many reasons are out there. And I put up a picture of myself on facebook that I absolutely hate and … blah … blah … blah.
You can see, a year after “recovery” the ED thoughts stay pretty consistent.
I need to begin finding the beauty in me.
Outside of 80 lbs.
I only see the beauty in those pictures.
And it makes me sad that I have not somehow moved past that.
Outside of engaging in eating disorder symptoms.
A very greedy demon within me keeps clawing at the idea of weighing myself.
Just to see if I am truly delusional about my body difference…or if it is reality.
But then again…
I am an addict that has escaped reality for ever.