Haven’t written in awhile.
Mostly because — I’ve lost weight — And I don’t know how to talk about that.
How do you talk about the shit that’s real – and less about the shit you can reflect on?
It’s easier for me to write about the things I’ve done in retrospect and less about the day-to-day.
What does it mean when you’re generally “okay” and yet — not being okay?
How do you write for the people you know that read this — that you know will read it and be like “aye – I don’t wanna be within a 10-foot pole of this” and still make it human?
It’s hard to maintain a sense of transparency about your life – while also worrying about what other people will think.
So, I write in this way. In numerical value — because it seems easier.
6 “real” signs of a relapse.
I’m in one – but I’ll dig out of it.
And, I think, while I’m in it — it’s worth shedding light on the little manipulations we use in order to get away with it.
Ah – yes. The stress bug.
Is there even an appropriate emoji to fit there?
Seems a little insensitive, but I get the whole stress thing.
I work a 9-5 at a PR firm in downtown Denver. I have 7-8 clients at any given time.
There is always a crisis. Always a reason to panic.
When I’m in recovery, I can balance that shit. I eat anyway.
“You gotta eat cause you gotta’ deal.”
When I’m not, it’s easy.
“Fuck it. You have too much to do. People are relying on you. Skip a meal.”
Skip a meal and you’ll be focused.
It’s easy, isn’t it?
We will aways find reasons.
We always find a way to write it into our story.
Be better than that. I laugh at myself – I’m right there with you –
Am I really? Because I let that shit sink.
It’s a cop out – I’m not speaking for you.
But I’m speaking for me.
And, let’s be better.
^^^ no there’s no weight on that – for all of you trying to compare your weight to that.
So easy with the scale.
We’ve all owned one. We’ve all stepped on – off.
All of use hiding a scale in the pile of things we keep meaning “to get rid of.”
But, yet, when we want it – we find it. And we use it.
I find myself sometimes – using that scale.
I’ve lost weight recently. I won’t sit around pretending it’s not a reality.
“Is the battery dead?” I keep asking myself.
“There’s no way I weigh that.”
I’m an anorexic first and foremost – a binger second.
An exercise bulimic … Third? I don’t know. I’m everything.
Losing weight is easy for me. And I feel compassion for those that don’t have that.
I’m petite by nature – losing weight is a choice – not something I work for.
And I always have an excuse for why.
Even as I write this – I wonder:
“Am I actually what it says?”
Scales are easy to manipulate.
I think it’s worth mentioning that we all like to pretend that we are good at “getting rid of the triggers”
- And scales are triggers
But, they still resurface when we let them.
Bring out the Crop Top
^^^ Couldn’t even find a remotely justifiable pic of a woman in a crop top – ugh internet – you misogynistic ass.
“I’m just feeling good,” I say. “I’m feeling hot.”
If you are, cool.
There’s no problem wearing that crop top. My GOD rock it. Rock your fucking shit.
But, be aware of why.
Are you doing it because you’re content with how much you ate that day?
Or happy with it because you didn’t eat enough?
Shocker, eh? I got your number.
I know what it’s like.
I wake up on a Saturday afternoon. It’s 8:30am. I work a 9-5pm so my biological clock has transitioned.
I wake up early.
But, somedays, I wake up – and I lay in bed. I watch Netflix. I watch Seth Meyers – or Sam Bee.
I don’t eat.
All of the sudden – it’s noon – and I’m getting a coffee from the local Denver coffee shop.
“I have this, so it’s okay.”
Walk with my partner (ex partner now, but that’s for a different post) – to the grocery store – stock up on food – take our time.
Next thing you know it’s 2pm and you’re going on a hike and you haven’t eaten a solid thing.
You throw on a crop top – you feel good in it.
Of course you do.
You always feel good with it’s 2pm and you haven’t eaten.
There’s nothing wrong with wearing a crop top whenever you want.
Just think it’s worth pointing out. If you’re changing your fashion norm – if you’re a parent of a teenager – take heed.
Yeah, take heed if they’re eating vegetarian.
But, take notice if they’ve suddenly coming out of their “body image” shell.
There might be an underlying motive.
Isn’t it funny how convenient our sicknesses arise when we relapse?
Just me? Maybe.
But, I find that I have more stomach issues – more headaches – “I’m tired.”
Sure, you’re fucking tired, you’re restricting. Or you’re bingeing and either way – your body is trying to keep up.
Think about what you’re doing. Are you attributing to it?
Are you ill rested? Are you setting up the landscape for it? Are you proposing the topic?
I can’t answer that for you — but I know what it’s like to live it.
Got up the other morning – fell down in the kitchen.
I’m in the middle of a relapse – I don’t have a problem owning it.
But, my blood pressure takes toll. I can’t get up and function.
I fall. My blood pressure low.
Take heed. We’re people.
We want to live.
Nearly every time I touch upon a relapse it seems to come at the heels of heartbreak.
Not even necessarily inflicted on me – but by me. It can be both.
Whatever situation arises – I can make it a reason.
You get hurt? “LIFE WILL NEVER BE OKAY. I’LL NEVER GET OVER THEM. IT HURTS. IT. FUCKING HURTS.”
I hurt them? “I DESTROYED another person. I destroyed them.”
You find a way to turn it into you.
If only I was thin –
If I lose weight – they’ll see how sorry I am. I’m sorry I hurt them.
Be sorry you hurt someone.
You hurt a person. You might’ve anyway. Sometimes, humans surprise you with their inability to bounce back.
Both are heartbreaking.
But, you feel like you inflicted pain on another human being.
You hurt yourself in return.
You can’t prove pain through food.
You can’t prove that you feel because you show a bone.
If only we all remembered that?
If only we remembered that so much of our life is fleeting – and pretty.
If only we lived for the pretty.
Watch that shit. The second we relapse – we’re the connoisseurs of coffee. A sudden fascination with wine – and it’s “aroma.”
I find myself strolling into the local Starbucks. I know the barista. I talk to her about her Dad in Austin.
We smile – a knowing nod.
I’ll have the usual, I say.
Coming right up, she summons. And I pay. Look down at the granola bars – the muffins I won’t eat.
Ah – what a hero I am, I think. A hero of the unconsumed artificial sugar.
I assure myself I just “love coffee.”
You gotta be aware of that shit. It sneaks up –
You get a mimosa at brunch – surrounded by friends doing the same.
You get a beer at 3pm on a Sunday because “it’s play offs.”
What are you doing it for? Ask yourself that.
I jump at the happy hours when I relapse – the excuse to have a drink and pass it off as “social.”
I do it especially – when I’ve eaten what I’ve deemed is “too much.”
We have eating disorders for Christ Sake.
Don’t kid yourself. A lot of what you do can have ulterior motive.
Make yourself aware of that – cause no one else will.
And once you make yourself aware of it – own it. So you can figure out what not do with it.
Figure out what it means to be alive – and hell, I’m still there with you doing it now.
Sending all of you love – because I know what it is – we all know what it is – to live this tiny, little pretty life with an eating disorder.
Let’s be better. Let’s relate – and find each other.
Let’s live a big ole – scary life. ❤