The last few posts of mine have been necessary for me to write but I am aware that they have also been kind of vague and abstract. I haven’t talked that much about what my days look like or what it feels like to live in my skin. Part of it is because I turned away from the introspection. I grew tired of looking at my internal world, expecting me to find some resolution or peace in it. I thought if I thought about it enough, I could problem solve my way out of Anorexia. If that failed I could ignore it. It hasn’t been a completely useless endeavour. Everyday I tell myself that tomorrow I will deal with the Eating Disorder and how it screams at me. Tomorrow I will stop for a second and pay attention to it rather than continuing to absorb every terrible thing my brain tells me. I am trying so hard to prove everyone around me – including myself – that I am fine that there isn’t time to not be. At the moment, its working for me. As long as I don’t challenge myself or as long as I don’t have to eat an unsafe food or even as long as I don’t screw up my routine…than everything is alright. I eat and I close my eyes and I don’t look in the mirror and I pretend that I don’t hate myself with everything that I have and that has to be enough because I haven’t figured out how to live and not do those things yet.
The thing that is wearing me down though is that hate. It is so bloody exhausting!!! It’s also a very strange emotion for me. Generally I don’t do hate. There isn’t a place in my life for it, or for anger or resentment. I think those emotions are not that great for the soul and so I strive not to feel them. That works when I think other people and the relationships I have with them. I let things go quickly and usually pretty easily but when it comes to myself, for some reason I can’t. I hold on to it and maybe that’s what Anorexia is in part for me. The embodiment, the physicality of that hate for myself coming to life. Moving from an emotion which is powerless and useless on its own to something that I arm and allow to harm me. Will I carry it forever? Is this just the way that I am built and the best I can hope for is not carrying through with the thoughts that threaten to tear me down? Surely it can’t be. I genuinely want to believe that I was built for something more. I want more than this story.
There isn’t even a reason anymore for why things are the way there are inside of me. Why food still trips me up. My life is good. Really it is! For the first time in a long time the chaos seems to be less. My family is finally stabilising, my classes are good, I’m using my brain again in a way that I’ve missed. Yet I come home on a night and I get to drop the persona which is great but it also panics me. It’s dawning on me that I don’t know how to just be without someone expecting me to be something. I bombard myself with useless static in order to not be alone with my thoughts because my thoughts always come back to all the ways I am not good enough. No matter what I do, I cannot shake that sense that I am not living up to the person I should be. The question I am left with though is “What is going to take to be enough?”. It’s strange, in my lecture this morning we were discussing Jacques Lacan and how when we are born, we are born with the desire to want and it is a desire that will never be fulfilled. I wonder if there is more truth in that than I would care to admit on most days. Anorexia was the same. You choose a target weight, tell yourself that that will be enough, that it will make you happy and your magical thinking becomes the thing that protects you from all the potential bad things. Yet you reach that number and it’s not enough and you are still not satisfied and so it changes. You lower it, you then tell yourself that this time it will be different only it’s not. When do you just say stop? or can you? If it’s a human drive that is within our structure of the self than are we just destined to always find ourselves lacking? Is Anorexia partly that but intensified to an extreme?
It feels like I’m asking more questions than I’m answering.
The truth to how I am is therefore really hard to answer right now. I think that’s why I’ve been rather hesitant to write about it. I’m not happy but neither am I sad. I’m not lost in the fog of starvation and Anorexia but neither am I free from it either. I like my life and yet all I see 98% of the time if my failings. This in between should be ok for me. It should be…and for stupid reasons it’s not.