Eating Disorder

Chapter 1


but darling, sticking your fingers down your throat one day,
only to cough and scream "oh my god, ew," is not bulimia.
and darling, skipping one meal and then stumbling in the hallway is not anorexia.
and darling, being "desperate enough to consider anorexia or bulimia" is not a eating disorder.

this is not a quirk for your personality description,
this is a war on my mind and my body that i will do anything to win.
bulimia is a speeding train with no brakes,
a constant cycle of binge, purge, binge, purge, binge, purge,
we do not get a break,
there is no time to stop and catch your breath,
the cycle continues and the train keeps hurtling along and there is nothing you can do but keep driving the train,
no matter how broken your body becomes,
or how disgusting the food is,
or what you should be doing.
bulimia is gorging until you can't even stand,
and puking until your throat bleeds ruby red,
and a million cities could burn to ashes around your ankles
and still you would stand there, bingeing and purging.

anorexia is what you call a "good" day,
an unyielding wall of blue-gray ice,
a wire in your brain misdirected to make "appetite" mean "disgust,"
a fear that grips you from the inside out and one that you still don't quite understand,
a terror so f♥cking real that you can see it and hear it and tuck it into bed and kiss it goodnight,
and it writhes through your mind with an illogical logic that erases your memories and rewrites everything,
changing "i want to eat" to "i don't need to eat,"
transforming "i need to eat" to "if i do i will fall apart."

eating disorders are not your personal "quirks,"
they are diseases of silence,
silent wars with screaming guns and wounds that will never go fully away,
victims silently screeching for something, be it love, fulfillment, escape, help, or forgiveness,
a raging loudness that fills the mind and convinces us that we are not worthy of the help we know we need, so we do not bother to ask.
by the time it is noticed we will fight,
we will lie,
we will cheat,
we will do anything to keep a hold on this one thing that gave us support,
and it is not as easy as you think it is to convince ourselves that we need to eat.
you can listen to no one but your eating disorder,
a constant screaming from just behind your eyes that gets louder when you see your reflection, or a photograph, or even just when you see exactly how fat your arm has become.
you can not share the world of silence you have built for yourself out of the shattered ruins of your self esteem,
so you stop trying to explain it to people,
trying to explain why you continue to do this despite the horrific consequences;
the hair loss, the rotting teeth, the blood your body throws from itself when you throw up or even just brush your teeth,
the dizziness, the tiredness, the malnutrition,
and yes you do get scared at some point,
terrified beyond your wits,
and maybe you think you've gone too far,
but it's not enough to make you stop,
and a lot of the time it's just a reinforcement that you're doing well,
"look at how good i am at being eating disordered."
and if it goes on for too long,
you will get to a point of part acceptance and part denial;
a constant whirling thought of
"i will live with this until it kills me."


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