A DAY IN AN ANOREXIC MIND
- Luka
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
Dolls, this post is a delve inside my mind for 24 hours before, during and after every meal... and yes, there's a lot because my mind never stops racing with anorexia, pouring itself into every crevice of my imagination.
Triggers exist everywhere in the world. There are all kinds of triggers for all kinds of illnesses, such as PTSD, alcoholism, drug addiction, and eating disorders. There is great importance in being resilient because otherwise, the world becomes debilitating. Whilst I recognise that, it doesn't change the fact that when it comes to the task of resiliency, I am weak and sensitive at the best of times. And this morning, I was extremely triggered. I was trying to eat my breakfast, and these two men next to me started discussing how much weight they'd lost, bonding over sharing contact information of their personal trainers. Whilst I sat at the table trying to tackle my demons, there they were in earshot, glorifying those same very demons. It didn't just feel like a trigger; it felt like climbing over a mountain. Before breakfast, I had just planned out my whole day, and I was filled with motivation. I felt, for the first time in a while, a sense of joy. It was going to be a beautiful day, and instead, I found myself deeply affected by the circumstances before me. I felt guilty and ashamed for finishing my breakfast and proceeded to crawl back into bed for an hour with the curtains closed, black, isolating me from the world outside my closed door, one that seemed unsafe and unpredictable.
Today, I was afraid that everything would fit imperfectly. I craved expectancy and was met with moments and certain instances that I didn't expect to be there or occur. It made me feel like throwing in the towel and giving up, but with the current environment of a hospital setting, I was forced to persevere in times when, alone, I would've let my eating disorder win.
When you have an eating disorder, and you face the task of overcoming it, upon completion, you're left with this harrowing, burdensome guilt that feels like a rock on your chest sinking you to the bottom of the ocean.
If you were to delve into my mind, you'd find a burning desire for today to be over and for tomorrow to come. You’d desire freedom beyond the captivity of anorexia. And you'd be terrified of losing the one thing that makes you feel like everything in this fucked up world is going to be okay.
I find myself on day 2.5 of my hospital admission, and already, I feel the overwhelming urge to flight and flee from the thing that is challenging my eating disorder. But then I have this other part of me, very small, like a quiet little voice that is just whispering, urging me to fight, reassuring me that maybe, just maybe I am 'sick enough' and that I belong here in the help of hard-working professionals. That part of me is begging me to stay and fight for my life. That part is telling me everything seems more frightening than it is. That part suggests that it's possible for everything that seems insurmountable to work itself out. That part of me is begging me to continue taking it one day at a time to make another day.
'Just one more day...', it says, '...or maybe you won't survive the one that follows'.
I want to be sick. No, I want to be sicker. No, I want to be the sickest. To which my dad always tells me, 'sweetheart, you are going to die.' My competitiveness and jealousy are exacerbated to an extreme extent when I see and learn of others who share my illness. I recognise what an awful thing it is to yearn to be sicker because what it truly is, is yearning to chase death. And that shouldn't be a goal of any lovely, and loved 22-year-old girl.
Right now, there is a very small part of me that finds comfort in attaining the safety of doing the right thing. It acts and looks like a glimmer; a glimmer of opportunity to be something, someone beyond this eating disorder.
'Haven't I done enough for you?', I ask anorexia.
Truth, Dolls? I get tired of anorexia keeping me and my world so small, controlled, and meticulously moulded into a skewed idea of perfection because I'm never enough for it, and I'm always answering for it. This part of me wants to follow the path of recovery and surrender to following the rhythm of a normal life lived the way it's supposed to be lived. Though small, it's an important part of me, one that doesn't get seen very often because it's so buried beneath the weight of the world that lies heavy on my heart. Like plenty of other people with anorexia, many find life as challenging as I do.
This is the finale, Dolls, of a day in my mind. It's where the wind picks up, and the rain starts, where everything that I've bottled up begins to leak. Everything in me feels like it's about to pop open because I've spent so long feeling reprieve from engaging with my ED that going against it doesn't feel hard anymore; it feels impossible. To allow myself to climb the mountain is a climb I start from the very bottom, the very, very bottom, where the top seems oh, so high. And I'm just so afraid now because the view looks so completely different to the view way down here.
A day in my mind, Dolls, is not a happy place. Sometimes there are sprinkles of happiness, but mostly the rain of anorexia pours. A day is hard, Dolls, but I will continue to fight for every day because I love my family and my friends.
Kisses,
COS x
