I want to talk about my eating disorder.
I want to talk about it because I'm not ok, and I'm not healthy and it feels like some time, somewhere between sixteen and now, a switch flipped for everyone except me.
When you're sixteen, an eating disorder has a subversive kind of glamor--it's an act of rebellion. It's that teenage-girl way of being independent. These decisions are mine.
But when you're almost twenty-one, it's this shameful thing you carry around all the time, silently. When does this go away? Does it ever? Who is there left to rebel against?
When my stranger asks what's wrong, I don't know how to tell him that I feel like my body has nothing to do with my self anymore. That when I'm high is the only time I feel like a whole person, not trapped. That I don't know how to fix myself.
About Me
- Scout
- Wooden spoon-wielding, paint-flinging, poem-spouting, laughing, listening, hand-me-down clothed, pierced hippy with a mission: bring the love of reading to children everywhere.
2 comments:
Hopefully talking about it helps.
And really, I wish I had the courage to air some of this things in my head on my blog for an audience I don't necessarily know.
I don't know anything about your history, your life with boys or your eating disorder. But I do think you've come into your own as a writer and that the things you talk about here are progressively more personal and (subsequently) more enticing and thought-provoking.
In any case, I wish you luck and I salute your candor. It sounds like you are embarking on lots of wonderful adventures in your life, and this is just another hurdle to conquer as you go through them.
big hug, little p.
you are not in this alone.
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