An Abusive Relationship

I've done a lot of reading up on anorexia and other eating disorders. There are Pinterest boards and Instagrams dedicated to them. The most terrifying promote these as "lifestyle choices" (ugh, that's a competely different post) but most are people, boys and girls, just like me, who are lost and scared and looking for help or somebody who understands. And what I've come to realize is that most, if not all, of these people describe anorexia as Ana, a girl that knows how to help you get what you want. I don't see it like that. For me, this is like being in a relationship, one that starts off so perfect, until you mess up of course.

Then the abuse starts, the screaming and punishments. That's when you get scared and try to leave. But It apologizes and tells you that if you just listen there won't be any problems. Simple, isn't it? Until you mess up again. This cycle continues. On and on it goes.

Somebody sees the problem, but you stick that smile on your face, the one you've become so good at faking, and you swear that everything is fine. It's exhausting though, if this were a Lifetime movie you'd have shot the son-of-a-bitch already. That's actually really tempting, and you flirt with the idea for a nanosecond before realizing, this isn't that kind of relationship. If you get out that gun, sure It would be dead, but so would you and suicide isn't an option and never will be.

What do you do? You run for help. The second It's guard is down you bolt, and send out an SOS. Unfortunately It knows what you've done, that's the problem with this relationship, it's literally impossible to keep anything a secret. So you cry and beg and apologize, but the damage has been done. It knows your relationship will never be the same. So It changes the way it operates. It knows you are fighting. But It still magnages to coax you out at your most vulnerable.

Those times are the worst. It is mad and afraid you'll escape, the whispers about your flaws have turned to yells. It yells louder than ever because It knows you are fighting and that isn't OK. That's all this is now, yelling and fighting.

This has become my life. Fighting to obey It and fighting to get away. Fighting is exhausting and I can't do it everyday. So I listen and do as I'm told. Honestly, those days are the easiest, sure I feel guilty because I know it's unhealthy but the guilt is shoved aside for the reward I get when I skip a meal. The reward of weightlessness or another pound lost or It whispering in my ear "see, your thighs? Don't they look SO.MUCH.BETTER?"

I wish It was easier to kill without killing myself. But since that isn't an option, I'm in for the long haul. Fighting as hard as I can to kill It before It kills me.