Another Letter

Dear Body,

Over the past four years, I have put you through torture. I cut your flesh, starved you, berated you with abusive comments and hateful slurs, violently stuffed you full of everything but what you truly needed, forced you to sacrifice all-- even the positive-- you held, and never let you rest: pushing you to do just one more thing. Yet you, my God-given companion, stayed with me. You persevered through the stress. I been kept alive in your care even though you would have justified in quitting: in letting me go.You should be proud, body.
Because I have become so distrustful of the world, every negative emotion has been harbored deep within me and taken out on the only safe place: my very own body. For that, I am truly sorry. It is not, after-all, your fault I have only ever known broken promises, lies, changes, and losses. No, you have been the opposite of all of that. I hope if you can't forgive it, you can at least understand why I took advantage of your virtue .It was wrong. I would do anything to change the hateful things I thought about your thighs on the school bus in elementary school and your reflection in middle school, but that is the past. The precedent was set and ingrained throughout the years. That is why it is so hard to change the pattern now. I try. I fight for you, but sometimes it is too hard. Sometimes I can't grasp another way to cope. I promise to keep trying, but I don't know if I am ready yet.I still feel bitter toward you. I still want to change you .I am still hurting. I still have no safe way to express that pain. Stay with me. Someday I will learn to love you. Someday I will treat you as you were meant to be treated.

-- Me

A couple letters to my Eating Disorder

Spring 2008

Dear ED-

I thought we were passed the formality of letters, but it seems you are taking over again. I have been content to ignore your reappearance in my life. In fact, ED, I have even made extra room for you to move in comfortably. You know, I am really beginning to see that you are quite the bastard. You promised it would be short and sweet this time: just ten pounds and then you were gone. Thank you, but after losing eight, gaining five, losing two, gaining four, gaining three more, losing one etc… nothing has changed.
I gave you most everything you wanted: I threw up when you said I ate too much. (ED, do your realize how hard that is when you share a bathroom with ten other girls? Do you realize the lies I had to tell my roommate and friends?) I stopped eating breakfast. I skipped lunches with friends. I slept or worked through dinners. I binged on junk for the sole purpose of throwing it up. I punished myself with razor blades and isolation…
ED, this isn’t working. You are right; I do want to be thin. I want that so much, but I am tired of this futility. I know that you have been the only true constant in my life; so please don’t try that one again. We all know I am afraid to let you go…but it is past time. I am tired. Three years, ED. Three years of tears, vomit, blood, lies, pain, and restriction. I don’t want to be stuck in this forever. I can admit that I am terrified. At this moment though, I think I have to live in that fear for a while. Letting you go feels like ripping the very fibers of my being apart. I don’t know how I let you become such a part of me, but it is not okay anymore.
They say you are not suppose to let your enemy see your weakness, but I would rather be honest than strong. I am not always sure I want you to leave. There is something so very appealing about bones, about being able to disappear, about surviving on nothing but diet coke. I think that the pursuit of thinness will always be alluring; but, with time, I will learn to focus on real things.
I am going to have a life. I am going to go beyond surviving. Yes, I am crying as I write this. Yes, I don’t fully believe it. Yes, I don’t really think I deserve all that. You can’t use any of that against me. You don’t have any weapons tonight. I know this is going to be hard, but everything worth it is hard. I don’t want your pain anymore…
I believe I am starting to loathe you.

Spring 2009

Dear Ed,

I am so tired of this crap! I am suppose to be having a fun spring break and instead I am locked in a psych unit. Thanks. 

You really messed things up this time. This isn't Remuda. This isn't loving, supportive, and warm. It is cold, hard, and locked. Believe me, you and I will never tango like this again. Who the hell cares if I weigh more than I want. I am alive now. I don't start living when I am emaciated. In fact, Ed, that is when I die. There, I said it: I am not invincible. I can get hurt. I admit it, i accept it, and I embrace it. 

All of my cuts won't be healed by the time I leave and neither will all my hurts, but I WILL have control again. I WILL be the boss of our relationship, ED. From now on, I am not your slave. I won't do everything you ask. I won't mindlessly submit to all your whims. 

Oh, I know you are laughing right now. You are saying to yourself, "I will get back in." You may get in at times, but you aren't going to win. There is not a change, Ed. Not a chance in HELL.

Get out of my life, 

Alanna 

I just got back from a week of IP treatment.

This is so hard.

I had a panic attack this morning...

I thought it would be easier.

I thought the temptation would be gone.

I am fighting. Good lord, I am fighting. It is just so hard.

I am praying for strength. Strength. Strength. and Strength.

I can't afford (literally and figuratively) to keep this up.

"I can do all things", right?

Quotes

My life is falling apart again. Don't worry, I know it will come back together; but for now I am stuck deciding the best way to pick up the pieces.
To keep things on the positive side, I am going to post a few quotes that need to be heard right now. 

“Once you’ve had enough and you can’t do it anymore, you consider the possibility that there might be a better way. That’s when your head cracks open and God comes in.” - Marianne Wiliamson

"Every time you feel hurt, offended or rejected, you have to dare to say to yourself: 'These feelings, strong as they may be, are not telling me the truth about myself. The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God's eyes, called the beloved from all eternity, and held safe in an everlasting embrace."
Henri J.M. Nouwen

“There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken.
There is a shatteredness
out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is sorrow beyond all grief,
which leads to joy; and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.
There is a hollow space too vast for words
through which we pass with each loss,
out of whose darkness
we are sanctioned into being.”
Rashani

“Listen to your heart,. It knows all things, because it came from the Soul of the World and it will one day return there.”
Paulo Coelho

“No matter how long your journey appears to be, there is never more than this: one step, one breath, one moment--now."
Eckhart Tolle

“The process of personal growth isn’t always easy. We must face our own ugliness. We often must become painfully aware of the unworkability of a pattern before we’re willing to give it up. If often seems, in fact, that our lives get worse rather than better when we begin to work deeply on ourselves.”
Marianne Williamson.

A Whispered Prayer

Dear God, help me to fly far away from where I am. I need to move on faster than I can crawl. Help me to be the person I strive to be, the person I am meant to be, the person I want to be. 

Please God, help the past stop hurting me. Help resentment stop haunting me. Help me become more patient, more giving, more forgiving
Help me believe. I am pleading for clarity and wisdom. I am begging for hope. I need a glimpse of something beautiful. I need a reason to keep holding on.

Hate

Some claim there is such beauty in numbers. I don't see anything glorious in them. To me, they are more instruments of torture. My days--and sometimes my nights-- are full of numbers. Was that one grain or two? Can I count that as three servings? *** calories. 7528 steps. Too many. Too few. Weight: too high. Wait... did that yogurt have 80 calories or 100. Did I accidently drink regular soda? Should I add 120 calories  to my total just to be safe? 

I hate numbers. ED, however, loves them. He uses them to torture me. The tenths of a pound on the scale become so significant. I am required to add and re-add my calorie intake, to constantly check the pedometer on my phone, to check my weight in every outfit I own. 

I hate numbers. I hate ED. 

An imaginary expanse

I am struggling with image today. The monster is in my head complaining, screaming, angry and with it I feel my body expand in parts. Stomach, thighs, arms, cheeks. I know that it is impossible they are larger than they were yesterday by more than millimeters, but it feels like more than that. I call these days, "fat days". I have heard people without EDs talk about "fat days", and I wonder if it is the same. I want to hear that it is not. I want to hear that people without EDs don't cry about how they look. I want to hear that they have never felt a sudden expanding of their own flesh (an imaginary expanding).  Yet, I have a feeling that is not true. Why do we spend so much time hating ourselves? Why do these feelings haunt me? How do you make it go away?