I wrote this last night. I had been lying in bed then suddenly popped up and said to myself, “Wait a minute, I GOTTA write this one down.” So I grabbed the nearest pencil and paper and started writing.
March 11, 2014
I am writing this down because I want to help others with eating disorders. And to record how it happens.
There seem to be stages. Like you are walking deeper and deeper into it. From one stage into the next stage. It’s so easy to go unnoticed.
So at first, perhaps stuff is okay, or appears so, but something goes haywire, and life isn’t right at all. You question everything. You are shaken or uprooted. Why is your eating so berserk?
You get frenzied. Panicked over your eating. Are you truly out of control? Will that dreaded thing happen? You are in a maddening whirlwind. You feel that you must put demands on yourself.
You get more and more boxed in by your own rules and demands.
You could stay stuck in this limbo for years, or perhaps go into it deeper.
I guess that’s a slightly calmer place, less frenzied, however, you’re struggling to get yourself to use your mind to do even the most basic thinking at this point. Yet you will survive, because humans are animals. You may die, though, because humans are mortal.
You get to a point where you know you are in that safe zone, you are anorexic all over again. It feels familiar and comforting and powerful and it separates you from others, especially when some irresistible goodie is passed around and you make up some dumb-ass lie about your bogus allergy, “Oh, no thanks, not for me.”
You stumble home. You fall into bed. You hope that tonight, you don’t die in your sleep.