Fuck you Anorexia

I haven't posted in a bit, because I've been trapped in my head, battling the overwhelming desire to give in to anorexia. Today was particularly difficult. My caloric intake has been increased, and I found myself panicked as I arrived in the dining room for breakfast.  One wrong word by the nurse's aid and I was crying all over my cornflakes.  It's bloody difficult to eat cornflakes in between sobs and near hyperventilation.  A kind nurse came and supported me briefly and I was able to get through it, but I barely tasted or acknowledged the food as I forced it down.

It is definitely a time of grieving.  With every bite I take, I feel that I am slowly betraying anorexia.  It is a mindfuck, it truly is.  How is it possible to miss the girl with sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks, a girl one breath away from dying.

Anorexia is angry, and she is beyond pissed. This bitch is fighting me tooth and nail as I try to hold on to hope that I can have a happy life someday beyond this illness.  Anorexia tells me that the dying girl was stronger than the one who is now in a hospital, who needs locked bathrooms and ativan to endure the anxiety of eating. Anorexia makes me stare at my reflection with disgust and hatred.
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She tells me that I am losing control.  She tells me that I am fat and I could simply leave these claustrophobic walls and jump right into the rabbit hole again.  I feel an urgency to jump, before I gain too much weight, before my organs start to heal, before I'm too well to get back to that dying girl I was.

A new patient arrived today, I observed how frail, how sick, how weak she looked. I was then reminded by my boyfriend just how frail, sick, and weak I was when I was first admitted to 4F4 just 11 days ago.  It's funny how my mind suddenly forgets how awful it is to feel this way.  Anorexia glamourizes death, it's like the heroine chic of modelling, but anorexia aims to be the deadly trend of those who have lost their self worth.  I felt so sad to see this patient's empty stare, so vacant and hollow, like anorexia had removed all light from her soul.  How messed up is it to wish to be so ill?  How messed up is anorexia?

I'm well hydrated now.  I've had a week and a half of nourishment.  I have colour in my cheeks.  I have energy to walk and not feel dizzy.  I'm no longer a walking corpse.  Yet, here I grieve the dying girl.  Here I grieve my safety blanket, anorexia.  A cocoon so safe, you feel ready to accept that this world is too scary to live in.

Writing is so therapeutic for me now.  It reveals the utter craziness of my thoughts.  The grief is real, the tears and sadness are real, but I am slowly learning that anorexia is a false idol that has robbed me of so much joy, so much laughter, so much life.  I long to be free, and for that freedom, I will keep fighting.  I will endure more tear soaked cornflakes, and hopefully the tears will become less and less as I learn to disassociate my beauty as a person from the false identity of anorexia.

Fuck you anorexia and goodnight sweet world 💜