I woke up this morning feeling as if my insides were being twisted by a malevolent force. I could feel all the food I ate churning and bubbling, a caldron ready to explode. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, hating myself and food and anorexia and all of life.
I ate like a normal person on Sunday. Then I punished myself by taking a handful of laxatives that night. What goes in must come out, right?
I am getting so sick of this. The time wasted either sitting on the toilet or trying to count each and every calorie I consume. The time spent on the scale, silently begging it to not show a triple-digit weight. The time spent sick to my stomach and sick at heart because I have failed once again.
The unrelenting pursuit of thinness.
I will never be thin enough. I read about Marya Hornbacher and her lowest weight of 57. I ached with jealously. I will never be that thin. And that hurts. Then I wonder . . . How did she do it? Could I . . . Maybe I could learn how by reading her book.
I look at the innocuous white scale, its flickering numbers ready to bring me joy or despair like a desperate gambler at a roulette wheel. Round and round the numbers go and where they land nobody knows.
And where it lands is never the right place. I hate the number no matter what it is . . .
I want to pick it up and hurl it across the room until it smashes into a billion pieces.
I look at the tiny pink pills that I slyly, quickly swallow so David doesn't see me. Yet I know laxatives don't really rid your body of calories, but instead depletes you of fluids and gives the illusion of weight loss.
My mind circles desperately, the Ana voice telling to just stop eating. You are a pig. Fat pig. You would be better off dead than the way you are now.
FAT FAT FAT FAT FAT . . .
It never stops. I want to scream as loud as I can — Dear God, save me! Save me from all this. Take it away. I can do nothing on my own. Only You can deliver me from this ongoing nightmare.
And I fantasize about taking a sledgehammer and smashing it into the scale which has ruled my life for years.
Then I become afraid.
Who am I besides someone fighting anorexia nervosa? Who am I besides my weight? Who am I besides my body size?
My doctor asked me to think about those questions and come up with some answers this week.
I see nothing but blankness right now. My thoughts are too filled with little pink pills and a white scale. My thoughts are too filled with what more can I do to rid myself of more weight. I look up tips. Karen Carpenter took extra thyroid pills and used syrup of ipecac. Hmm...I have thyroid pills. Perhaps I should double the dose.
I draw back, afraid.
And my anger at anorexia grows.
I am so sick of this. When will I be free? When will I allow myself to be free?
For it is I who locks myself in the golden cage and throws away the key.
Back and forth ...
Recovery
Thin
Recovery
Thin
Dear God, please save me before . . . the possibilities are infinite.
6 comments:
Hold on. This feeling will pass. You're getting better, so the disease is fighting back. You know you can beat it, if you just keep fighting.
At my treatment center, they describe recovery as a spiraling circle. It goes back and forth. It's supposed to. You're doing well, don't beat yourself up for a few relapses. YOU CAN HOLD THROUGH and you will beat the disease and find an identity and kick ED's ass.
you can do this. i know it.
xoxo
-Lisa
I meant to write yesterday. I feel the words of your post could have been flowing from my very own fingers. if you haven't yet, don't bother with Wasted. i found it uber triggering and sort of 'braggy'. Hornbacher claims it not to be bragging but she knows how the minds of anorexic's work.
ANYWAY...i'm also struggling with laxatives again. knowing of course that they do nothing for real weight and they just mess around with fluid and electrolytes but i swallow them too by the handful just to 'get it out'. one day without them is a victory...so when you have that day pat yourself on the back!
doubling the dose of your meds...please don't! i know it's hypocritical but i'm a nurse and would be very concerned for your struggling heart. your body is tortured enough.... and ipecac is a well known no no!!!!!!! no no no no no no no!!!!! please no!
and oh...the sledgehammer to the scale! you should do it! i did it just after cmas while i was still in hospital. i went out on a pass with my ex and my dad and i smashed the crap out of my stupid scale. AND lived without it for months after (ok, in treatment and getting weighed at the clinic but it was not the first thing i saw in the AM). now, i've bought the exact same one again. i know i'll eventually smash it again and wave goodbye to $70 and months, maybe years yet, of misery and anxiety...but that day will come when i will relenquish the power that stupid thing has.
like i said in a post of mine, i think the battle is a good sign. recovery, thin, recovery, thin...it shows there's still a fight to really live in you. try and keep that candle lit! struggling is inevitable...it doesn't have to mean death which is all anorexia brings with it as the punch line.
hang in there sweety. you can do this.
You should take a sledgehammer to it! I like that idea.
Can you give your shrink the laxatives? I gave mine all my meds one day so I would stop abusing them. Then tried to get more and the pharmasict wouldn't give me them. Very glad they didn't.
PLEASE, get that scale OUT. Believe me, there's no better first step! Get the scale out and flush the pills. And then, take it from there. But PLEASE! Believe me! Out with it!
Why not? Why not destroy the scale? Take it into the back garden and allow your rage to flow where it belongs - against the disease. ANA is a liar, she is spiteful, monstrous, destructive and weak. That is why it fights back when you take the tiniest step forwards. But you know what, you are stronger than ANA that is why it resorts to sly dirty tricks -because head on it will lose.
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