Things are quiet, but they're not. There’s not much to talk about, but there’s so much to say. I haven’t been posting or taking photos of my food because the words aren’t there and neither is the food.
The eating disorder is a little bit louder these days, and I’m having a hard time with my food.
A dichotomy is growing inside: those who are pro life and those who are pro eating disorder.
The recovery voice is still speaking, alerting us there is life worth living outside of an eating disorder. I listen closely, praying she is right. She says there are things in life worth living for. She reminds us of school. We start back in August and she reminds us of the trouble we will face if we are still engaging in eating disorder behaviors. She tells of the good times we can have in our class if we aren’t focused on food and weight.
She reminds us of other things we want: laughter, friendships, teaching kids, exercise. She speaks of attaining things we don’t know we even want yet.
But there is the other side of me that can only speak the language of eating disorders. A lonely, broken, sad girl who relies on the eating disorder to say everything she cannot say. If she could, she would say that she’s scared, that bad men come and find her. She would say she’s hurt. She would say she feels lonely and no one would help her then. She would say there is nowhere else to hide, that she is not safe. She would say she wants someone to help her. She would like someone to notice her.
Her sadness gives birth to my tears. I don’t know where to go from here or what next to say. Hopefully, this is enough for now. The lonely, broken, sad girl is feeling her tears.