i can see myself wrecking and ruining
but i can’t stop myself.
I hurt. I am hurting. My insides are raw and tender and swollen. My heart feels like it is breaking, all the time. I think I am choking and I can’t get through the day.
Something about my life just isn’t working, but I can’t put my finger on what or why. I’m incongruous and anxiously waiting for something to change. I need a sign. I need a reason not to drag the blade across my skin, or starve until next Thursday, or eat absolutely everything I can and throw it up in half an hour. I need a sign that I’m going to be okay. I don’t feel okay.
It’s just that I can see myself falling apart. I am too aware of my dropping pant sizes, and my skipped meals. I am too aware of when my blood sugar plummets and I do nothing to get myself back in range. I can’t stop my actions. I don’t have a choice.
And yet, I know I do.
I don’t know how to explain this.
It’s my fault that I’m spiraling, but it’s not my choice.
The only thing I know is that I am holding myself together with tape and glue and that I’ve paper clipped my paper heart together. I’m so afraid of what you’ll say if you see me like this.
i used to think that i was special, and only i have proved me wrong.
but i have ended up in india with no map to guide me home…
i’d like to know if you’d be open to starting over from scratch.
i’d like to know if you’d be open to giving me a second chance.
I understand. Sometimes I feel so horribly guilty for relapsing, because I know recovery is my responsibility and I didn’t have to engage in the things I did that lead me here. Yet, at the same time, I know a lot of this was and is out of my control. I should just be able to stop. But I can’t. Or won’t? It’s hard to tell the difference.
At best, our eating disorders turn us into a bundle of dichotomies.