From the 27th February to the 5th of March is Eating Disorder Awareness week. I will be sharing my story and support links throughout the week. Please contact me if you would also like to share something on my blog!
This isn’t my usual blog post and I understand that a lot of people may be confused by this but I wanted to share with you a monologue I have written which describes what it is like living with an Eating Disorder. Having suffered with Anorexia and still suffer from Bulimia Nervosa and depression, I want to share something that helps people to understand the everyday battles we face.
Living with Ed.
I’ll try again tomorrow. How many times have I told myself that. And what a surprise Eddie you prove me wrong again. Don’t eat, you can’t. You don’t deserve to eat. Thanks Eddie for the advice but yet again the restriction causes a binge. Get the food out! You need it out of you! Purge! Purge! As your possessive ways take over, Eddie, there I am for the fifth time this morning with my head over the toilet. You know this wasn’t the life I chose. Gorging myself till it satisfies my starving body then forcing everything up for your pursuit of thinness. You underestimate how much self-hatred it takes to force yourself to throw up. I hate you Eddie, for making me hate myself. Yet I can’t live without you. It’s a perpetual cycle leaving me physically and mentally exhausted. Food is my anaesthetic yet you turn it into poison and just watch as it rots my soul.
Eddie, you have become my only friend. I trust you, rely on you and turn to you for comfort. But the longer I live with you, the less time I have to enjoy life. I am worthless and dirty with you. You control me in ways that no one would dare to imagine. You are you. I am me. You do not define ME. You are just here, temporarily. I hope.
I should binge on life, not food. Purge this negativity that clouds my thoughts, not dignity. Starve my guilty feelings, not my soul. Restrict unhappy thoughts, not my diet. Count the things im grateful for and my blessings, not calories. And you know what? The only weight I should ever need to lose is that on my shoulders. Yet you keep piling it on till I can no longer stand up. They used to cry ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me!’ Ha, how you have proved them wrong. Oh Eddie, they never told me that words would eventually cause permanent psychological damage. I only wish now that they did throw stones at me, break my bones to dust instead of infiltrating my mind.
You want to live. I want to die. I am hungry but you won’t let me eat. I am so tired but you won’t let me sleep. I am sad but I cannot cry. I am suicidal but you won’t let me die.
At the hospital they told me that we only see black and white. You have stolen the colour from my life. What was once vibrant is now dull, cold and lonely. Why do I surrender to your bullshit? Together we turn skeletons into goddess’ and strive to be like them. But you always have to go to the extreme Eddie. Always. Do you feed off the satisfaction of emptiness? I often wonder if it is just one big game for you. ‘Ooo lets flip the coin, heads it’s a good day, tails it’s a bad day!’ You juggle my life through a flip of a coin and triggers but you never let me take my turn.
People just don’t get it. They don’t see who I see in the mirror. The horror of my reflection. Your voice.
I’m fine. I’m fine. I tell them.
When inside you are screaming at me. YOU ARE FAT. DISGUSTING. WORTHLESS.
Shut-up shut-up shut-up! Just get out of my head! *smacking head violently*
You are not a diet, you are a disease. Spreading and destroying my body, bit by bit, bite by bite.
I have become addicted to my own self destruction. I am scared to get close to anyone in case it becomes contagious. I am embarrassed. Who wants to know someone who’s naturally reflex is to be sick when they eat, who looks like a bloody chipmunk from the amount of force it takes to bring up that one piece of chocolate..out of a whole 3 bars. You are this broken record left on repeat. Even when everyone has left the room, you continue.
After you make me stick that toothbrush down my throat so aggressively, I look at myself in the mirror and pity myself. I go weak in the knees and can barely stand without holding on to the sink. What am I doing to myself? I laugh a little, cried a little. Heart hurts, throat hurts, tummy hurts. I’m living in my own nightmare. It would be so embarrassing if someone was to find me unconscious on the bathroom floor. It’s pathetic the things you tell me to justify the purging. I hate myself when it’s over, though it’s not actually over as we both know. I stare at my reflection in the mirror while I clean up the mess I have made. I can’t even tell if I am looking at myself anymore, or you. You, this demon trapped in my soul, spreading to the depths of my mind like a virus. You would leave me lying on the bathroom floor, crying and hating myself but then I would just have to pick myself up and walk out like nothing ever happened.
Silence is the most powerful scream so pass me that mask and I will bury this emotional mess under another layer of skin. Dying crosses my mind a lot. The fact is I don’t want to die, I just want to escape. I feel trapped in this metaphorical bubble of existence, shrouded by shadows of negative feeling and emotions.
I want out.
The struggle is too much.
Binge, purge, starve, no sleep.. It’s exhausting. Constant mind games. Forever thinking about food.. It drives me insane.
Someone silence the demons in my head, please.
There is a hell, believe me, I’ve seen it.