CW Eating disorders
It is important for me to remember that the pain inside me isn't poison, despite what my brain tells me. It is an injury and it must be healed.
I told David about my eating disorder, about the way I put off eating until I'm dizzy, eat food, and then purge it. He looked concerned. This is not unusual. He has a handsome face that is constantly drawn into lines of worry, even when he swears he isn't. This time, I could tell he was.
We went shopping in the middle of the night, choosing quick and easy calories, things he knew he could make me eat three times a day. There was no worry about my body or what it would look like if I ate waffles for breakfast.
Upon my confession that my body is a prison I punish with purging and comfort with food, the internet exploded. I forgot that I currently have over two thousand followers on Twitter. They are all very kind, but part of me wonders if the stress of being that Known is one of the reasons I have started this again after doing so well for so many months. What has triggered this relapse? Is it the number of responsibilities I have taken on? The sudden changes in my life? The realization that so many people are there and able to hear what I'm saying?
I don't know. I find myself strangely self-conscious, which I then push against with the same stubborn egotism I've always had. I'm not scared, I insist, shaking. I'm not scared that you'll see me, I whisper, hiding.
I received a comment that had quotes from Geneen Roth in it. I had never read them before, but something about the words rang true for me. "We refuse to take in what sustains us."
My life is about building walls between me and others. I offer kindness and support from behind those walls, and share glimpses into who I am, but there are depths of private shame that I keep hidden from all.
I wonder sometimes if exposing those things will heal them. I don't know how to heal them. I do know that I cannot begin to heal the wounds without first examining what they are.
Today I ate waffles with syrup for breakfast. It's nine thirty in the morning. I will eat lunch and dinner as well, in the company of a man who cares about me and wants me to be successful and healthy and happy.
Today is my second day examining this scar. I hope the damage isn't irreversible.
Let the walls come down, brick by brick.