Whenever I think of Anorexia, the word that more often than not that comes to mind is ‘vacancy’. I think in time, the disorder gets to a point where you have neither the energy nor the heart to experience anything other than a sense of vacancy. Emotions that were once all consuming lose their potency. The thoughts that threatened to drown you become a muffled stream that become so part of the background you no longer really hear them anymore. Where the was once love and desire and hope, there is now nothing. The longer I have left the anorexia unchecked, the more consistent the vacancy has become. Instead of it being occasional moments interrupting normal functioning, it has now become the norm with rare waves of the human experience. I’m not sure it’s a terrible thing completely because I’m pretty sure that is how I survive Anorexia, how I am able to get up each morning without a overwhelming need to obliterate myself. Yet it means I do nothing more than become a mere watcher in the existence of my life. I am not actually experiencing being alive anymore and in my moments of rationality or humanness, there is something profoundly sad about that. In the vacancy I miss who I truly am. I miss my laughter and genuineness. I miss my fire and fight. I miss the person I rebuilt from the previous battle with Anorexia.
It is also something that I cannot hide and I have lost count of the number of times my treatment team have referred to this state of being that I have fallen into. It is exposing and for that reason uncomfortable. There are so many things that I can hide when it comes to the Eating Disorder so that it doesn’t become public knowledge about how much it owns of me. I can not admit to behaviours. I can deny the pains and aches that riddle my body. I can force myself to walk, climb stairs and get from A to B without outwardly showing how much it takes from me. Even when I pretend I am there though, the vacancy is still apparently written all over me. If I could still hate, this would be another thing that I hate about the disorder. In truth I guess I’m struggling to be as open about this relapse than I am about my other encounters with the disorder. I don’t want people to know the truth. I don’t even want to know the truth and whenever I do think of it, whether rightly or wrongly, all I really think is “I fucked up. Again”. The fact that I am barely here mentally doesn’t make it easy to pretend to everyone else that this isn’t destroying me, both on the outside and the inside.
As you may have gathered my attempt at recovery isn’t going very well at the moment. I’m still not sure what to do about that. I have another week of still trying to implement these changes and if I still continue to not live up to the expectations set for me then the situation will be reassessed. I’m not entirely clear on what that means. The vacancy means I can to an extent live with this reality. Messed up, right?
I hope your day has been kind to you.