Imagine.

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I observe myself,

From above and not from within. 

I'm gazing at the girl inhabiting my body. 

She wrings her fingers, 

She taps her feet,

And grinds her teeth. 

I can see the anxiety 

Overtaking her body. 

I tell her that it's going to be okay. 

She has gained weight,

But she is still thin.

She is still the same person,

Only with a healthier body,

One that is not in danger of falling apart. 

Anorexia has been inhabiting 

my mind for too long.

I can not trust her perception,

For what I see through anorexia's lens, 

is false. 

Logically my weight is still low. 

But to anorexia, 

Logic means nothing. 

Anorexia thrives on misperceptions and lies. 

She warps all mirrors,

And tricks her victims into believing 

That they are worthless if they aren't 

On a fast decline towards death.

I watch myself from above.

I see my foot tapping more slowly,

My breathing eases into regularity,

As I begin to see the truth. 

Listening to anorexia these past few days

Has only brought me pain. 

I have forgotten that 

I am so much more

than a number on the scale 

or the size of my clothing. 

I was so caught up in grieving her,

That I forgot to live. 

Anorexia thrives in darkness.

She hates the white glow of hope. 

She fears all things that diminish her ability to survive. 

Anorexia is greedy,

She likes to have me all to herself. 

She wants me to wander alone,

Irritated by the chatter of people around me.

She loves it when I avoid eye contact,

She thrives on a mind that plots sneaky ways to self destruct. 

Anorexia loves it when I'm held so captive,

That I begin to obey commands. 

Restrict.

Take diet pills. 

Take laxatives.

Go up and down those ugly hospital stairs twenty times. 

Today, I can distinguish anorexia from reality. 

Today I am defiantly arguing anorexia's insults. 

Today I took the elevator,

And ignored the desire to retreat within myself. 

I did not crawl into my cocoon,

Instead I stepped outside.

I allowed myself to breathe the air,

To nourish my body,

To believe that I am worthy to dance in the rain.

I am so much more than a disease.

I am so much braver than anorexia ever could be. 

Imagine how much better life could be if I left anorexia behind, 

What could happen if I ignored her ugly cries of desperation,

And decided to live.

Imagine how it would be to be free. 

Imagine.

Neverland

This photo was taken almost a week after my admission to 4f4.  My mind is trying to reconcile how at the time, I thought I looked good, healthy even. I remember wondering if I was thin enough to even be here.  My perception was messed up. 

Today, my nourished brain is amazed that my perception has changed so much in less than a month. How is it possible to see something with completely different eyes from the ones I saw through a little less than a month ago? 

Today, looking at this photo, all I can think is, I look awful.  I can see the starvation on my sunken face, in the hollows beneath my eyes, in the white of my knuckles and the purple of my skin. Yet, at the time I thought I looked GOOD. 

How must I have looked before this pic was taken, before I was pumped full with IV fluids and electrolytes and having eaten three meals a day for a week straight. I truly did not understand that I was that sick at the time.

I knew I needed help, I knew my psychiatrist told me that I was lucky to be alive, but the severity of my body's condition never felt all that real to me.  

It's like I was talking about someone else. It wasn't me who was saved from death in the emergency room that day. It wasn't me who then arrived as an inpatient on an eating disorder unit. I was in a fog and just going through the motions, allowing porters and nurses to take me where I needed to go. 

Just how ill I was is sinking in heavily now. That photo haunts me. My head is far too big for my body, my eyes sunken, my skin so pale. Do I really want to go back to this?  

I feel sadness for my present self, the one that sits in her hospital bed and types these words from her phone, this present me that really does sometimes (often) misses sick me. I hate the fullness of my stomach, I hate the extra flesh on my legs, and I hate gaining weight. I miss the comfort of feeling each sharp edge of my ribs, wrapping my fingers one and a half times around my wrist, and staring at the loose skin where fat used to be.

A part of me wonders if in a month from today, will I shake my head at the thoughts running through my mind at this point in my recovery? Will my brain continue to heal, and along with it, will my perception shift even more than it already has? 

I am slowly beginning to feel more and more gratitude for this opportunity to become Erin again, without anorexia and her dark shadow following behind. 

What struck me about this photo is how childlike I appear. I am a doll-like version of myself in that photograph. I've always run from being an adult. I cried on my thirtieth birthday. My favourite colour is pink, I listen to Britney Spears, and I have the voice of a ten year old. I'm still scared of "growing up". So often I don't feel like I am strong enough to take care of myself. 

So in retrospect, starving myself to adolescent size, shopping in the kids section, and not being able to meet the very basic need of feeding myself...was perhaps an unconscious grasping at childhood. I was ultimately asking for someone, anyone, to save me from myself, to hold me and not let me go. 

I'm in love with the song, "Lost Boy." I play it on repeat and imagine that I am the lost boy and anorexia is Peter Pan taking me by the hand and leading me away from reality. 

"And then one night , as I closed my eyes,
I saw a shadow flying high
He came to me with the sweetest smile
Told me he wanted to talk for awhile
He said, "Peter Pan. That's what they call me.
I promise that you'll never be lonely."
And ever since that day..."

http://youtu.be/58TBZnvyGwQ

But anorexia lied. It is lonely in Neverland and there is no freedom there. True freedom is liberation from the chains of anorexia. It is being able to go out for dinner with friends and not having to panic over what I will eat or keep down. True freedom is loving my body when it is healthy and not having to fit into a size 00. True freedom is finding joy and happiness in reality.   

It's time to leave Neverland and rediscover the world outside, without her dark shadow trailing behind.