Battle Cry

My body is currently in battle with my mind. Entrenched in this war my mind started. And to be honest, I don't know how much more my body can take. And then there's me. Being tossed about like a rag doll while those two bicker. I'm trying to find anything to hold on to. But there is absolutely nothing. Because for as much as I hate my mind and the monster that controls it. I also hate my body. I hate that it's weak. I hate that it looks and feels the way it does. But there is a part of me that wants to save it. That wants my body to win. Because as much as I hate it and am repulsed by it I know it can do so much if only I could give it a chance.

My body's latest cry was a kidney stone. Because my grandmother always had a problem with them I am more prone to getting them. And anorexia certainly doesn't help the problem. Metabolic abnormalities and dehydration from exercise just add on to the likelyhood of me continuing to get them. And if you've ever had a kidney stone you know they hurt like hell, it's been compared to childbirth- I don't know since I've never given birth. But let me tell you when I do I want ALL the drugs. I was literally laying on the floor in excrutiating pain cursing myself for causing this.

You'd think that would be enough. Enough motivation to start following my meal plan and fighting harder to recover. Unfortunately it just made the problem worse. I became less motivated and started to punish myself for being so stupid for restricting, by restricting. Eating disorders are so logical. 

But that did scare me. Scare me enough to keep from working out, it's been 8 days. And it scared me enough to search for that motivation I so need to recover. I'm searching, I'm getting closer, I think. It's still terrifying and I'm tired of it. But I know its my body's was of telling me what it needs. And I know that it's just as tired as I am. But for some reason it's still fighting. Using its battle cries to tell me it hasn't given up on me yet. But I do know that the next cry could very well be its last.

Find Your Voice

Julie wants me to read her a letter I wrote to my ED. But I won't do it and here's why;

I know part of getting better is speaking up- speaking out about the things that hurt and even the things that can heal you. And people with eating disorders tend not to speak very much at all. Our voices are drowned out by the monster in control. 

But there are those, like me, who have always been quiet. Who have never felt the need to say much, instead choosing to absorb the world around us and speak in different ways. 

And that doesn't mean not talking. It just means I speak differently and I choose to speak in writing. Letting my voice be heard through the scratch of my pen or the click of a keyboard. It is easier for me to articulate through a medium that is not my vocal chords. And that's OK. 

There are those who speak through paint and canvas. Or those who do open their mouths but let their words flow out in melodic poems.

But just because we aren't physically speaking doesn't mean we aren't talking. In fact, some of us are quite loud. You just have to listen a little differently to hear us. 

This doesn't mean I don't need to practice speaking up. I do. I need to stand up for myself when people put me down. Or let them know "hey, hearing you talk about how much skinnier my sister is, doesn't really help. Stop it." And I do want to learn how to speak up for those things. And one of the ways I can start is by explaining all of this to Julie.

By explaining I will not ever be the type to say what exactly is on my mind right in the moment. I will explain that I need time to process and write it out. And she is more than welcome to read those things but don't ask me to speak when speaking isn't really a part of who I am.