Today, while walking Puzzle, I had the key to life and death and anorexia held in the palm of my hand

NOTE: I WROTE THIS LAST SUMMER, JULY 2013.  IT IS NOW FEBRUARY 2014.  PAST TENSE.  I HAVE SPOKEN WITH MANY PEOPLE AND WHAT I HAVE SAID HERE REFLECTS THE FEELINGS OF SOME, BUT CERTAINLY NOT ALL FOLKS WITH EATING DISORDERS WHO HAVE EXPERIENCED “TREATMENT.”  TAKE WHAT YOU WISH FROM THIS AND LEAVE THE REST.  I FOUND THIS PIECE IN MY FILES.  I AM PUBLISHING IT TODAY BECAUSE IT IS PART OF HISTORY.  I CHOOSE TO HONOR HISTORY FOR WHAT IT IS.  I CHOOSE TO OWN IT, AND TRY TO UNDERSTAND IT.  I CHOOSE NOT TO DENY IT.

 

 

And I knew, right then…it was rather hot out, yet I can tell you I don’t feel the heat at all, nor do I sweat much, not sure why that is, not that this matters, I was in no hurry to get inside…no one was out, though…I suppose it was hot.  Yes, hot, over 90.  Not a day you want to keep your dog out too long.  But I was thinking.  My mind, that is.

So I had this thought and I knew.  The reason why people with anorexia, nine out of ten, I’d say, commit suicide, that is, I’d say the reason…..

Well, logical.  It makes fucking sense.  To the person that commits suicide, that is.  At the time.

So here’s the nine-out-of ten-I’ll-betcha scenario:

You get forced, I repeat, forced, into “treatment,” then you are race-to-the-finish force-fed at some enormous rate that your body and for godsakes mind cannot handle, and then guess what?  You get booted out, and then of course having this skinny disease means you fall between every imaginable crack there is out there in the community.

So, no support whatsoever.  That is, whatever “services” the other folks with the other horrid diseases are getting, you aren’t able to access because this is a minor disease that your income bracket is wrong for, or your age is wrong for, or you are the wrong gender for, or maybe you are married so that makes it impossible because you are in the wrong “insurance” or you live in the wrong state or you are stateless because you don’t even live anywhere, that is, homeless according to whom?

Like I said, no support.  You are fucking alone.

Alone.  Booted out.  Of “treatment” you never asked for. Or you did, and weren’t prepared for those X added pounds you now are carrying.

And then, you put on those jeans.  The jeans you always knew you would only put on if—

Yeah, it’s proof of it.  Or you walk past your reflection in a storefront glass door.  Or you put on that jacket you wore last spring.  Naw, you ain’t going nowhere today.  You throw off the jacket in disgust.  It’s on the floor now.  Like a dying animal you just beat.  You throw it into the closet and you never want to see it or those jeans ever again.  You give it a final kick.  The dust rises, settles, then the ugly thing is dead.

So, like I said, nine out of ten, that’s why.  So I came home with my little dog, told myself I really hate my eating disorder but hate “forced treatment” even more.  You know what “forced treatment” is?  It’s rape.  Nothing less.  Assault on the body and mind.  It causes all kinds of treatment-induced diseases, treatment induced eating disorders of being among those diseases, and it causes suicide.  How often does “forced treatment” lead to this thing “recovery”?  How often does it truly save a life?  How often does this rape truly, down the road, lead to anything but misery?

I’m not saying that “forced treatment” will lead to suicide nine out of ten times.  I am saying that nine out of ten suicides from anorexia I’ll betcha are due to forced treatment or treatment that has been coerced in some deceptive manner.

Or…is anorexia slow suicide anyway, therefore  everything I am saying just bullshit?

 

I CAN SEE NOW WHY I WAS SO SCARED AT THE TIME.  I HAD GOOD REASON.  IT ISN’T THE WEIGHT GAIN THAT SUCKS SO BAD.  WEIGHT GAIN IS NOTHING, ONLY A SYMBOL.  IT’S THE ABUSE.  ITS THE WAY THEY RAPE YOUR SOUL.

I WROTE THIS 7/7/13.  I ENDED UP IN THE HOSPITAL 8/12/13, WHERE THEY ABUSED ME.

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