My psychiatrist looked me in the eye
As she uttered the words in her quiet, calm voice.
Because that's where you were before you came here.
***
I fell apart over my breakfast again.
This time I cried in my bran flakes,
I tried everything possible not to cry.
I counted the windows of the building next door.
I practiced mindfulness exercises.
Trying desperately to stay in the moment.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
It sucks to cry in front of a room of people.
Even when these people understand your struggle.
You don't want to have puffy eyes and ugly sobs at the breakfast table.
You feel embarrassed that you can't get yourself together.
One bite at a time.
One sip at a time.
I am okay in this moment.
One sip of milk, one flake of bran, repeat.
Before lunch,
I broke down again.
All of the frustration from the weekend,
Of trying to keep myself together
while I watched the world go by outside,
Came out today in relentless streams of tears.
You can only hold on for so long.
Colouring in the lines,
Listening to inspiring recovery podcasts,
Ignoring how FAT your stomach feels.
And then you wake up the next day,
and absolutely nothing can be ignored.
Your mind is done trying so hard to be okay.
Anorexia enters in full force to remind you that you have gained weight.
I feel uncomfortable in my skin.
I feel disgusting and FAT.
If you don't have an eating disorder,
You may cheekily reply,
Fat is not a feeling.
For us. It is.
It's an indescribable feeling of discomfort,
You long to crawl out of your body
Into the emaciated one you once lived in.
You wish you could shed this FAT like a snake shedding its skin.
You feel like you're trapped in some twisted game of torture.
You don't understand why you have been chosen for this awful game.
Anorexia is telling me that there is no point,
That I'll gain all this weight,
And I'll continue to have all these irrational,
Frightening thoughts.
Anorexia does not believe in me.
Anorexia wants me to leave this place.
***
So when I breakdown and sob,
"I don't think I can do this."
Dr. O asks the question I've been asking myself all along.
Am I prepared to die?
If I leave now, anorexia will be holding my hand as I walk out the door.
Anorexia will send me on a mad dash to get my anorexia supplies...
Laxatives, fat burners, diet pop and sour gumballs as my staple dishes.
Anorexia will kill me if I leave here,
And I would let her.
There must be a reason that God kept me here.
I feel too overwhelmed to understand what that is.
I can only focus on one moment,
One bran flake at a time.
I must not let anorexia play me with her cruel jokes and nasty games.
***
My boyfriend is angry
When I break down on the phone.
Who cares if you gain weight??
What's the big deal?
I'd rather see you fat than how you were before.
But it's so much more than just about weight,
Or food, or mirrors.
It's about years and years of believing the lies of a disease.
You feel like you don't know how to live in this world if you are healthy
...and taking up space.
You feel like it's pointless to try to be "normal".
You've never been able to eat and not feel guilt consume you.
You've never spent a day without worrying about the size of your jeans.
You feel like anorexia is all you have.
You feel like a failure.
You feel unworthy.
You feel selfish.
You have lived a life controlled by this disease.
And all of this becomes a feeling of FAT.
I lay in my bed, my stomach so full, so bloated,
And I would do almost anything to feel the emptiness again.
To feel the sharp, painful outline of my ribs again.
All I feel is FAT.
***
But I will lie here.
I will surrender.
God, I feel helpless and afraid.
I surrender to your will Lord,
No matter how strong the voice of anorexia becomes today.
Or tomorrow.
I surrender to you.
I will lie here until snack time.
I will hold my head up and be strong.
I don't think I'm prepared to die.
I won't leave this place,
until I know for sure.
That time is not now.
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