Day 43


And on days like today, even knowing the triggers isn’t enough.

On days like today, when the anorexic/disordered voice is loud enough to scare you, bring you to tears and drown out your own AND is quiet enough to sneak up on you when you least expect it, when you can’t see it coming or when you are raising your hands in a perceived (or smaller) victory, all you can do is…

I came so close to tears today.  I screamed so hard into my towel that I scraped the inside of my throat (in fact, it kind of feels like the inside of my heart; it’s distracting in that sense).  I got angry at the innocent, blissfully happy cats.

Want to know why?  It is because I slept like crap and am so run down that even after a week off, the voice in my head telling me I’m fat fought hard today.  This voice told me in the shower this morning that I was losing my definition.  This voice made me feel like I was actually fat, that there was a way of feeling fat.  This voice took me feeling my stomach as an attack on the scale, that I was gaining weight for a whole host of reasons and that gaining weight was to define how I was feeling today.

I didn’t weigh myself because it would justify this voice.  I know that 99% of the time, I have either stayed at the same weight or even lost a touch when this voice appears.  However, by weighing myself today and finding this out, it would have meant that the scale defined my feelings for the rest of the day, that the scale defined my worth, that it told me whether or not I was doing a good job.  Instead, I tried to gauge how I was feeling today through other means, and truth be told, I am doing a fucking shitty job.  My weight is not a deciding factor in my human value or in my human experience; whether or not my weight fluctuated does not dictate my worth or whether or not I am living my life right for me – at least, this is what I told myself.  The voices were too loud today though, they were too strong.  I still didn’t weigh myself, and that is a very small victory, but the damage inflicted was not shrapnel.  The bomb-blast tore me apart today.  And I still feel fat and crappy about that.


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