Imagine yourself on a train.... not as a passenger but as the train operator. You are carrying precious cargo and need to guide the train to safety. The mission is yours not for the money, not because it is your job but because people are counting on you to get there. Aside from the safety of the train, the precious cargo you carry with you are your mom, your husband, your child, your best friend of 28 years, your Will yet this immediate inner circle extends beyond them. It goes without saying they would be considered precious cargo, but they aren't the only ones on the train...
Your cousins are there--- the two who have been like a brother and sister to you and have been by your side since the day you were born. A beautiful neice and nephew play on the train with your daughter. The same neice and nephew who are auspicious reminders of you and your two cousins playing togheter at that age. Watching the three of them together brings back memories and you can only wonder if they will be as close as you three are. Your godparents are on the train, the ones who promised to take care of YOU if something ever happened to your parents. Your step-father, the man who never tried to fill your father's shoes but loves you, your husband and your child like his own but most importantly, has loved your mother more than the own air he breathes. Lastly, there are friends. There are those who shared your Donnie moments from when you were 14 or older (cruise 2012 here we come) or the college roommates who loved you enough to hold your hair back. Even the one friend, whom you count on having a good time with no matter where you because, she is a walking party. There are even your law school friends who know if you could survive law school, you could survive anything.
Although these friends have been around for decades there are ones that also showed up in your life when you were an adult and thought, I don't have anymore room for friends, I'm all set now. Yet, one day you met someone who knows all the same movie lines and watched the same reality shows which have you both screaming with laughter and gossiping like 12 years olds. The ones who have had trauma and sadness of their own but have persevered through the odds and even though they may not know it, inspire you to be a stronger person. Your train carries military heroes and everyday heroes, like teachers and police officers. Most importantly this train carries the memories and laughs you have shared with all these people.
The train is filled. I challenge you to sit down and write the names of all the people who you love and who love you unconditionally back. The ones that you can still laugh to the point of tears with over the good memories. I have always said people come in and out of your life for a reason. Once they are out, they're gone. They're a memory- good or bad but most importantly, that person is just a memory and no longer play a role in the story of your life.
With a full train, your destination is up ahead, but you are sitting at a crossroads. There is a loud noise from the warning lights on the track that a train is coming. You can choose path A which is dangerous but shorter, faster and easier. Then there is path B which is 1000% safe. It's longer, more arduous and even a bit intimidating at times, even though you know it's safe. Path B will get this train and all the precious cargo on it to the destination without a hiccup. Not only are you trying to choose the path, but you are running out of time FAST. Your anxiety explodes. If you don't move soon, another train is going to come and there will be an accident. You will may be able to get all your passengers safely off in time but the train will be destroyed and you, the engineer may not make it out alive. Yet, you sit here at the crossroads and you don't know what to do.
Destroying this train and the life of the conductor will ruin the lives of each and every person who are passengers. Although they will always remember you and you will have an invisible string tied around their hearts, this cargo you deem so precious will be left to mourn the death of someone they love all because you chose easy Path A. Everyone on this train may not have signed up for either path but they love you and given the choice, even though it is longer and harder, they want you to choose Path B. Not for them, but for yourself. For you happiness.
Right now- this is the best way to describe how torn I feel about treatment again. Yes, again. I'm looking at myself in the mirror and finally beginning to see an image of my former self. It's been nearly 18 months of full on war but I've been battling this eating disorder for 18 years. Now I realize it is like any other addiction. It will be something I live with every day. I see a tired, pale, thin woman who can no longer wear her wedding rings without the fear they will fall off. Path A may get me somewhere but it's no where safe and the road is most likely never ending. Maybe this time, Path B will work. It will set the spark in me I need to recover and say no to this roller coaster of emotions. This time I hope I can find the reason to eat and maybe even find the reasons why I don't want to eat.
I am going to do this. Not one day at a time... but one bite at a time.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Monogamy is Overrated
(after the heaviness of yesterday's blog, I needed something fun)
Merriam Webster defines Monogamy as : the state or custom of being married to one person at a time. This blog has nothing to do about sexual relationships or open marriages. I have three husbands and I wouldn't have it any other way. Delusional? Possibly but important none the less. There are three men in my life, one way or another, and they all serve a different purpose. They are not all of equal importance but they all do something important for me. The best way is to start off talking about them in order of importance.
1. Legal Husband This is the man I am legit married to.... wore the white dress exchanged vows, twice and have a child with. He is um, AMAZING. I could go on about all the wonderful things he does for me but if you follow the blog consistently, you know how great he is. Do we have a perfect marriage? No, but it's pretty fucking close. He loves me unconditionally. I'm going through a rough patch in my life and he still comes home to me everyday. In his own words he's said, "It's my job to take care of you." That's exactly what he does. I complain more than I should about the hours he works but really, it's because I miss him. I want him home with my daughter and I. Sunday is my favorite day of the week because we are together as a family. It reminds me of MY childhood. And now that football is coming to an end (as Melissa Gorga says, "Thank you Jesus.") there will be more fun times. He started out as a boyfriend, became a husband and now is a best friend. I can't imagine my life without him. Not many people would put up with my shit and he does--- more than anyone. Not only that, but he does it with a smile on his face. His positive attitude and love of life motivates me to be a better person-- even though he doesn't know it. I still get excited when I heard the garage door open every night. And nothing melts my heart more than when I see my daughter run into his arms saying "Daddy!!!!!" It's moments like those that I'll treasure for the rest of my life. Aside from the Anorexia there is just so much shit he deals with.... My constant anxiety. My obsession with Donnie Wahlberg. My need to own fucking fantastic shoes (FYI, in case anyone is interested, he created that obsession although it takes much goading to get him to admit it). I tease him a lot--- he's not a very emotional person. Didn't cry when he proposed, when we got married, when I told him I was pregnant, when his mother died or when our child was born. He does cry at Rudy but apparently I'm told that's normal. ....this crying thing is going somewhere, I promise. It illustrates again what an amazing man I married. It's no secret that I have had the shittiest fucking year of my life. I never really look forward to Christmas and the holidays but I try hard (despite what he says). Yet, he made this the best Christmas ever. Christmas morning he handed me a small tie box saying, "here's a gag gift." I open it only to find a picture of me and Will. In the picture, there is a cartoon balloon next to Will's face saying, "Merry Christmas." Underneath the photo was an itinerary..... He flew my gay husband out for a week as my Christmas present. Not many men fly another man to spend the week with their wives.... I of course began sobbing-- tears of joy for a change only to notice, he was crying too. I think at that moment I fell madly in love with him all over again.....
2.Will: Perfect segue into husband number 2. We were Will and Grace before there ever was a Will and Grace. Call me a hag, call me a beard, call me whatever you want but in the end I am Grace. I am the Grace and he is the only Will. Will and I go back.... um..... fuck! 18 years. Holy shit. That's a long ass time. Will has been there for me through the death of my father, my graduation from college, law school, my first real breakup, my marriage and the birth of my child. Through it all he's been honest and supportive. Given the fact that he is gay, there are certain voids he fills that my husband doesn't fill. Sounds silly, but being able to quote movie lines from "Mommie Dearest," as cliche as it may sound, is part of our bond. Will and I lived together for nearly three years. I remember a lot of laughs. He ironed my clothes and kept the bathroom bleached -- which was the extent of any stereotypical gay tendencies he may have. He's not an interior designer and although he has great style, he still looks to me for my opinion. Will is funny. Plain and simple, he's hilarious but other than me, not to many people find his jokes amusing. I still laugh at the same stories, the same jokes, the same pitfalls he's been into for years. He's the only person I know that can sit and watch as much mindless reality TV as I can. I don't mean, good reality shows like Intervention or RHOBH but trash like, Strange Sex or I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. Good shit like that. We are mesmerized by them.... shocked and ultimately hysterical at the nonsense. Um, hello? My Strange Addiction. There's more to Will's contribution to me than reality TV. Even though we have up and downs like most married couples, I can't imagine life without him. He serves a purpose in my life, as I do him. We may not have a piece of paper saying we're married but we have definitely made a verbal declaration of our love and have promised to spend our remaining years at PRC. Most importantly, Will has the daunting and important task to spread my ashes at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. I trust him whole heartedly-- even though I can foresee SOMETHING going wrong since everything always does.... Dances with Dark Clouds. He is proof that you can have love and marriage to someone without a sexual relationship. He's not just a best friend and brother never seemed to fit to describe him. He's my gay husband. It's the only the only way I can see him. He's just as irreplaceable as my legal husband.
3.Donnie Wahlberg : Ok. I know what you're thinking. He's NOT my husband. Not even close. I may even sound delusional. Although, let's not forget we've kissed, somewhat passionately, and snuggled on the couch while watching Blue Bloods together so in my mind, that accounts for something. I like to think of him as my imaginary husband, you know, like we're friends in my head. He recognizes me and no, it's not in the "I'm scared. Security!" way but more of the "Now, we've met before haven't we?" Let's face it, the man told me he is in awe of me. It's a line but I'll fucking take what I can get. No doubt. So I'm sure the question is, since he really ISN'T part of my life, what does he do for me that a husband would do? Ok, not much on a personal basis but his D-Dub persona is filled with nothing but unconditional love for all of his fans no matter color, size, ethnic background.... People can say he gets paid to do it but once you're in his company, you feel the energy and the love. It's not something you can believe unless you feel it. He allows me to retreat to a time when I was 14 and I wasn't anyone's mom or wife or employee and life was about having fun. Dancing with your girlfriends. Screaming at concerts. Pure bliss. It's not even his D-Dub persona--- it's Donnie himself. Watching Blue Bloods or his occasional appearance on a talk show makes me giddy. He's hot too (notice how long it's taken me to add that). He's a crush and has been for nearly 23 years--- which honestly, is longer than I've loved my husband. I enjoy him-- whether he's acting, singing, dancing or just present. He's my fantasy football. Both Will and my husband bring me joy but there are times when even they can't but hearing "Single" puts a smile on my face and my mind clears-- even for just three minutes. Oh, and he loves me. I know because he's told me so.....
There they are. The men in my life. I cherish them all. They are all there to celebrate the good times (whether physically or just at arms reach) and they all cheer me up in my own way when I'm sad. Every girl needs each of these. It will complete her.
Merriam Webster defines Monogamy as : the state or custom of being married to one person at a time. This blog has nothing to do about sexual relationships or open marriages. I have three husbands and I wouldn't have it any other way. Delusional? Possibly but important none the less. There are three men in my life, one way or another, and they all serve a different purpose. They are not all of equal importance but they all do something important for me. The best way is to start off talking about them in order of importance.
1. Legal Husband This is the man I am legit married to.... wore the white dress exchanged vows, twice and have a child with. He is um, AMAZING. I could go on about all the wonderful things he does for me but if you follow the blog consistently, you know how great he is. Do we have a perfect marriage? No, but it's pretty fucking close. He loves me unconditionally. I'm going through a rough patch in my life and he still comes home to me everyday. In his own words he's said, "It's my job to take care of you." That's exactly what he does. I complain more than I should about the hours he works but really, it's because I miss him. I want him home with my daughter and I. Sunday is my favorite day of the week because we are together as a family. It reminds me of MY childhood. And now that football is coming to an end (as Melissa Gorga says, "Thank you Jesus.") there will be more fun times. He started out as a boyfriend, became a husband and now is a best friend. I can't imagine my life without him. Not many people would put up with my shit and he does--- more than anyone. Not only that, but he does it with a smile on his face. His positive attitude and love of life motivates me to be a better person-- even though he doesn't know it. I still get excited when I heard the garage door open every night. And nothing melts my heart more than when I see my daughter run into his arms saying "Daddy!!!!!" It's moments like those that I'll treasure for the rest of my life. Aside from the Anorexia there is just so much shit he deals with.... My constant anxiety. My obsession with Donnie Wahlberg. My need to own fucking fantastic shoes (FYI, in case anyone is interested, he created that obsession although it takes much goading to get him to admit it). I tease him a lot--- he's not a very emotional person. Didn't cry when he proposed, when we got married, when I told him I was pregnant, when his mother died or when our child was born. He does cry at Rudy but apparently I'm told that's normal. ....this crying thing is going somewhere, I promise. It illustrates again what an amazing man I married. It's no secret that I have had the shittiest fucking year of my life. I never really look forward to Christmas and the holidays but I try hard (despite what he says). Yet, he made this the best Christmas ever. Christmas morning he handed me a small tie box saying, "here's a gag gift." I open it only to find a picture of me and Will. In the picture, there is a cartoon balloon next to Will's face saying, "Merry Christmas." Underneath the photo was an itinerary..... He flew my gay husband out for a week as my Christmas present. Not many men fly another man to spend the week with their wives.... I of course began sobbing-- tears of joy for a change only to notice, he was crying too. I think at that moment I fell madly in love with him all over again.....
2.Will: Perfect segue into husband number 2. We were Will and Grace before there ever was a Will and Grace. Call me a hag, call me a beard, call me whatever you want but in the end I am Grace. I am the Grace and he is the only Will. Will and I go back.... um..... fuck! 18 years. Holy shit. That's a long ass time. Will has been there for me through the death of my father, my graduation from college, law school, my first real breakup, my marriage and the birth of my child. Through it all he's been honest and supportive. Given the fact that he is gay, there are certain voids he fills that my husband doesn't fill. Sounds silly, but being able to quote movie lines from "Mommie Dearest," as cliche as it may sound, is part of our bond. Will and I lived together for nearly three years. I remember a lot of laughs. He ironed my clothes and kept the bathroom bleached -- which was the extent of any stereotypical gay tendencies he may have. He's not an interior designer and although he has great style, he still looks to me for my opinion. Will is funny. Plain and simple, he's hilarious but other than me, not to many people find his jokes amusing. I still laugh at the same stories, the same jokes, the same pitfalls he's been into for years. He's the only person I know that can sit and watch as much mindless reality TV as I can. I don't mean, good reality shows like Intervention or RHOBH but trash like, Strange Sex or I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. Good shit like that. We are mesmerized by them.... shocked and ultimately hysterical at the nonsense. Um, hello? My Strange Addiction. There's more to Will's contribution to me than reality TV. Even though we have up and downs like most married couples, I can't imagine life without him. He serves a purpose in my life, as I do him. We may not have a piece of paper saying we're married but we have definitely made a verbal declaration of our love and have promised to spend our remaining years at PRC. Most importantly, Will has the daunting and important task to spread my ashes at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. I trust him whole heartedly-- even though I can foresee SOMETHING going wrong since everything always does.... Dances with Dark Clouds. He is proof that you can have love and marriage to someone without a sexual relationship. He's not just a best friend and brother never seemed to fit to describe him. He's my gay husband. It's the only the only way I can see him. He's just as irreplaceable as my legal husband.
3.Donnie Wahlberg : Ok. I know what you're thinking. He's NOT my husband. Not even close. I may even sound delusional. Although, let's not forget we've kissed, somewhat passionately, and snuggled on the couch while watching Blue Bloods together so in my mind, that accounts for something. I like to think of him as my imaginary husband, you know, like we're friends in my head. He recognizes me and no, it's not in the "I'm scared. Security!" way but more of the "Now, we've met before haven't we?" Let's face it, the man told me he is in awe of me. It's a line but I'll fucking take what I can get. No doubt. So I'm sure the question is, since he really ISN'T part of my life, what does he do for me that a husband would do? Ok, not much on a personal basis but his D-Dub persona is filled with nothing but unconditional love for all of his fans no matter color, size, ethnic background.... People can say he gets paid to do it but once you're in his company, you feel the energy and the love. It's not something you can believe unless you feel it. He allows me to retreat to a time when I was 14 and I wasn't anyone's mom or wife or employee and life was about having fun. Dancing with your girlfriends. Screaming at concerts. Pure bliss. It's not even his D-Dub persona--- it's Donnie himself. Watching Blue Bloods or his occasional appearance on a talk show makes me giddy. He's hot too (notice how long it's taken me to add that). He's a crush and has been for nearly 23 years--- which honestly, is longer than I've loved my husband. I enjoy him-- whether he's acting, singing, dancing or just present. He's my fantasy football. Both Will and my husband bring me joy but there are times when even they can't but hearing "Single" puts a smile on my face and my mind clears-- even for just three minutes. Oh, and he loves me. I know because he's told me so.....
There they are. The men in my life. I cherish them all. They are all there to celebrate the good times (whether physically or just at arms reach) and they all cheer me up in my own way when I'm sad. Every girl needs each of these. It will complete her.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
The Anorexic Voice
Most likely I have admitted this before, but I'm stuck in a hole and can't get out. ....don't want to get out really. The past six weeks I've been trying to battle this anorexia on my own, but it has been wildly unsuccessful. I knew the next option they (husband, therapists, doctors) were going to put in front of me. In patient residential treatment. For lack of a better term, rehab. The topic of rehab has monopolized just about every therapy session, conversation and thought in my mind for weeks. Sadly for me, it only increases my anxiety which leads me to restrict food even more. I'm having a difficult time separating out whether or not I'm afraid to go or if it's just I don't want to go. There is still time to decide but from what I'm told, not much time.
There are now two parts of me. There's the general internal monologue that everyone has and now there is the anorexic voice. The anorexic voice is beginning to scream louder than my internal monologue. It's hard not to obsess about food when it's the only voice I hear. I look forward to the nights I know I'm alone and don't have to eat dinner in order to placate those around me. The work week is my best friend right now--- no one is here to watch me (aside from those who silently watch and gossip) to make sure I eat. It's become my freedom. My safe place.
By going to rehab, I'll lose this anorexic voice which is has become my crutch, my safety blanket, my friend. It's scary to think about giving it up. I've lost all sense of who I am because I've learned to live my life in secret and rely on this voice. There are very few who are near and dear to me that know of this addiction. I live in secret. There is speculation, whispering, and gossip all around me. The only positive I can draw on is, I've learned who my REAL friends are. The disappointment of some of the rest of these friends isn't really shocking but mostly sad. We're not kids and hearing "some people don't know how to deal with this" is a fucking cop out. They just don't give a shit. To think anorexia is attention seeking behavior is weak. It's ignorant and it makes me angry. I'm very approachable and if someone, anyone were to come to me and ask a question or even to talk to me about being anorexic I will. I would. At times, I wish I was more private. Then maybe I'd feel safer from my own secrets.
The pressure of being the best is getting to me. I've always struggled with having to be number one. I'm OCD-- I admit it. The anorexia has lost the mystique of being a badge of honor and turned more into a badge of shame. I spend hours trying to hide it with perfect hair, perfect make up, expensive clothes or expensive shoes. Shopping is a tool I use to fill a void in my life. The void being food. No matter how I try to mask it, I still look sick. I still look skinny. I'm still anorexic.
I know where the triggers come from.... I haven't been the same since my mom got sick. I've never accepted my father's death. I don't like the long hours my husband works. I was raped and pretended it never happened and at times I just blame myself for it. And of course, we can't forget the grand finale of triggers: my grandmother. I thank her for instilling in me at the age of 5 that in order to be beautiful you had to be thin. I have a terrible body image and don't think I'll ever be comfortable in my own skin. I'll never see how pretty people tell me I am. I never met her standards with my appearance. She always made it clear to me that it was a shame I was overweight because I had such a pretty face. Who recovers from that? Can you recover from it?
The new plan has been my husband brings me breakfast and dinner and hopes I am "a big girl" by choosing to eat lunch. I don't fault him and I appreciate his efforts but now, I don't feel like he's my husband but more my father. He's done anything and everything he possibly can. We've spent hours discussing this eating disorder. I'm tired. He's tired. I'm not the wife I once was--- he's told me this and it breaks my heart. I want to be her. I really do but I truly have no control anymore. The contempt I feel for my body has affected our sex life. I can't possibly feel comfortable having sex when I hate my body so much. At times, I hate the fact that I can see bones protruding and other times I feel bigger than big. There is no middle ground and it's extremely unfair to him. What is even more sad is aside from my mom, he is the first one to finally love me for who or what I am. He shouldn't have to take this problem on and honestly, I feel like a bitch for putting him through this.
Secrets such as this can only make your general mood worse. There are days I just want to announce to the world that I'm anorexic. I need to admit I have a problem because I am so tired of living a lie. Every day is a challenge to get dressed. If something doesn't fit, whether its too small or too big, it dictates the mood of my whole day. I'm a walking contradiction. I hate that I'm so thin but I don't want to gain weight. I'm sure it's the addiction or disease-- however you define it. In the end, I'm so tired of all the noise in my head. I want to get better, I truly do but I don't want to have to go away to do it. The two voices in my head fight all day long--- the anorexic voice says don't go, stay thin and the realistic voice tells me to try harder to beat this, eat because that doesn't mean I'll get fat, it just means I'll be healthy.
What I find the most interesting is the lack of tears. I don't cry about it. It's almost as if I can't cry. The best way to describe how I feel right now is like I'm isolated on an island all by myself. I know my husband is tired of talking about it. I can only imagine my friends are tired of hearing about it. My therapist is probably tired of hearing about it too. They know I need to get better and it must be frustrating to watch this.... I've begun to feel as though I have no one to talk to about it anymore. My friends/family have reached the point of exhaustion with this. They try to hide it but I can tell. ....and I don't blame them. Who wants to hear about it? Everyone has their own shit to deal with and no one wants to hear about how I can't eat. Even I think it sounds ridiculous.
What I'm doing to myself doesn't make me feel good. Not at all. The power only lies with me though. I have the tools, the support, the knowledge. I should just be able to do it. I really don't know what's stopping me. There are times I am hungry but I truly don't know why I won't eat. The anorexic voice convinces me I don't have to eat. This voice gives you a false sense of control and power. The reality is, the anorexia has all the control. The voice has all the power.
There are now two parts of me. There's the general internal monologue that everyone has and now there is the anorexic voice. The anorexic voice is beginning to scream louder than my internal monologue. It's hard not to obsess about food when it's the only voice I hear. I look forward to the nights I know I'm alone and don't have to eat dinner in order to placate those around me. The work week is my best friend right now--- no one is here to watch me (aside from those who silently watch and gossip) to make sure I eat. It's become my freedom. My safe place.
By going to rehab, I'll lose this anorexic voice which is has become my crutch, my safety blanket, my friend. It's scary to think about giving it up. I've lost all sense of who I am because I've learned to live my life in secret and rely on this voice. There are very few who are near and dear to me that know of this addiction. I live in secret. There is speculation, whispering, and gossip all around me. The only positive I can draw on is, I've learned who my REAL friends are. The disappointment of some of the rest of these friends isn't really shocking but mostly sad. We're not kids and hearing "some people don't know how to deal with this" is a fucking cop out. They just don't give a shit. To think anorexia is attention seeking behavior is weak. It's ignorant and it makes me angry. I'm very approachable and if someone, anyone were to come to me and ask a question or even to talk to me about being anorexic I will. I would. At times, I wish I was more private. Then maybe I'd feel safer from my own secrets.
The pressure of being the best is getting to me. I've always struggled with having to be number one. I'm OCD-- I admit it. The anorexia has lost the mystique of being a badge of honor and turned more into a badge of shame. I spend hours trying to hide it with perfect hair, perfect make up, expensive clothes or expensive shoes. Shopping is a tool I use to fill a void in my life. The void being food. No matter how I try to mask it, I still look sick. I still look skinny. I'm still anorexic.
I know where the triggers come from.... I haven't been the same since my mom got sick. I've never accepted my father's death. I don't like the long hours my husband works. I was raped and pretended it never happened and at times I just blame myself for it. And of course, we can't forget the grand finale of triggers: my grandmother. I thank her for instilling in me at the age of 5 that in order to be beautiful you had to be thin. I have a terrible body image and don't think I'll ever be comfortable in my own skin. I'll never see how pretty people tell me I am. I never met her standards with my appearance. She always made it clear to me that it was a shame I was overweight because I had such a pretty face. Who recovers from that? Can you recover from it?
The new plan has been my husband brings me breakfast and dinner and hopes I am "a big girl" by choosing to eat lunch. I don't fault him and I appreciate his efforts but now, I don't feel like he's my husband but more my father. He's done anything and everything he possibly can. We've spent hours discussing this eating disorder. I'm tired. He's tired. I'm not the wife I once was--- he's told me this and it breaks my heart. I want to be her. I really do but I truly have no control anymore. The contempt I feel for my body has affected our sex life. I can't possibly feel comfortable having sex when I hate my body so much. At times, I hate the fact that I can see bones protruding and other times I feel bigger than big. There is no middle ground and it's extremely unfair to him. What is even more sad is aside from my mom, he is the first one to finally love me for who or what I am. He shouldn't have to take this problem on and honestly, I feel like a bitch for putting him through this.
Secrets such as this can only make your general mood worse. There are days I just want to announce to the world that I'm anorexic. I need to admit I have a problem because I am so tired of living a lie. Every day is a challenge to get dressed. If something doesn't fit, whether its too small or too big, it dictates the mood of my whole day. I'm a walking contradiction. I hate that I'm so thin but I don't want to gain weight. I'm sure it's the addiction or disease-- however you define it. In the end, I'm so tired of all the noise in my head. I want to get better, I truly do but I don't want to have to go away to do it. The two voices in my head fight all day long--- the anorexic voice says don't go, stay thin and the realistic voice tells me to try harder to beat this, eat because that doesn't mean I'll get fat, it just means I'll be healthy.
What I find the most interesting is the lack of tears. I don't cry about it. It's almost as if I can't cry. The best way to describe how I feel right now is like I'm isolated on an island all by myself. I know my husband is tired of talking about it. I can only imagine my friends are tired of hearing about it. My therapist is probably tired of hearing about it too. They know I need to get better and it must be frustrating to watch this.... I've begun to feel as though I have no one to talk to about it anymore. My friends/family have reached the point of exhaustion with this. They try to hide it but I can tell. ....and I don't blame them. Who wants to hear about it? Everyone has their own shit to deal with and no one wants to hear about how I can't eat. Even I think it sounds ridiculous.
What I'm doing to myself doesn't make me feel good. Not at all. The power only lies with me though. I have the tools, the support, the knowledge. I should just be able to do it. I really don't know what's stopping me. There are times I am hungry but I truly don't know why I won't eat. The anorexic voice convinces me I don't have to eat. This voice gives you a false sense of control and power. The reality is, the anorexia has all the control. The voice has all the power.
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