I am starting to hate existing less.
A thought that at one point seemed unfathomable.
“I will always wish for the blood to stop coursing through my veins.”
I remember how that thought sat in my brain; how I let it eat at me.
I screamed, I yelled, I kicked.
“I will always pray to be six feet under the ground.”
I blew out the candles for my eighteenth birthday.
Why does life have to be so long?
I etched lines into my skin.
I carved mountains and rivers and valleys and dunes.
I made art where there was none.
I painted pictures of what I wanted to see, what I thought should be there.
I sculpted a person as hard as rock.
I used tools as sharp as steel.
I only knew how to destroy.
I forgot how to build.
Plastered on smiles,
Words like swords,
I feigned rays of sunshine
Whilst throwing myself in a thousand different directions.
Anything to make you want me.
Anything to make me care.
I am staring to hate existing less.
Today I am an existentialist.
Tomorrow a Buddhist.
I am both sinner and saint.
I do not know how.
Uncertainty is nothing new.
“I am whimsical,” I say to you.
As you try to strip me of my wings.
But I want nothing tying me down.
You don’t know how it is to live without gravity.
You do not understand.
You could not understand.
Self destruction is
the only way I stay alive.
There are magic stones
that make me not fear.
I am in a prison of my own security.
I am well versed in the act of nonexistence.
This I can do well.
I may not know how to live,
but I know how to die.
I need it, I crave it.
I have the world at my fingertips and I toss it to the ground.
“Not this life,” I say.
As if I can pick and choose when consciousness is worth it.
This skill is not only learned,
It is taught.
I am a byproduct of passive aggressive.
A reminder of your mistakes.
Too much, too much, too much.
“Yes, I accept your pleas,”
I say to the world.
I will make myself small.
I will shrink into nothing.
I wait for the day for the sun to rise.
I long for the day to slay my dragons with a shining blade of steel.
It does not come.
This time I am quiet.
This time I stop asking
and I wait for my soul to speak.
I am not patient,
But I don’t have the will to fight.
Tenacity only got me so far.
And it is in the silence
Where I found the strength to let it in.
As smooth as a wind,
I let it come inside of me.
And this time I will allow
it to be true.
It is in the silence
that I find my salvation.
I am starved and bruised and hollow
But I know I am not done.
This whisper is my battle cry.
I will wait for my voice to catch up.
I will sing it from mountain tops.
I will soon say it-
Those magic words:
“I am stating to hate existing less.”
And I will mean it.
Someone asked me just now, “Does it get better?” and I wanted to share my response:
In a way, it gets easier. What once was such a fervent screaming in your head dies down into an echo, and I think the goal is that that fades away once you immerse yourself into your life again.
It doesn’t go away all of a sudden and I sometimes feel like I’m still so stuck, but time really does change things and you learn how to deal with the little bits of life you’ve avoided.
It reminds me of the quote by C.S. Lewis that says, “Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes but when you look back, everything is different…”
That’s how it was and still is for me. Now, the calories in a cough drop don’t cause me to go into a hysterical fit, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have break downs about how scary real life is.
It’s not that I have no worries now, it’s just that they’re different. They’re real life worries, but I think that shows growth. So, to answer your question yes, yes it does get better.
10 BETTER BODY AFFIRMATIONS FOR YOUNG WOMEN
1. Your body is in flux for the rest of your life. Think of your body as fluid instead of static — it’s always going to change. So get comfortable with those changes.
2. No one will love you or not love you because of your body. You are lovable because you’re you, not because your body looks a certain way.
3. The most intensely personal relationship you’ll ever have is with your body. It’s a lifelong relationship that’s well worth investing in and nurturing the same way you would with loved ones.
4. You don’t owe your body to anyone. Not sexually, not aesthetically. Your body is yours. Period.
5. What someone else says about your body says more about them than it does about you. Look past the actual snark to the person who’s saying it, because it’s only a reflection of what they think of themselves. That’s when you’ll see how little power their words have.
6. Your body is not a reflection of your character. It’s a physical home for the complex and wondrous and unique being that is you.
7. Take up as much space as you want. You don’t have to be small, or quiet, or docile, regardless of your physical size.
8. Everything you need to accept your body is already inside you. There’s no book, or diet, or workout routine or external affirmation that you need to feel good about your body right now.
9. Your body is a priority. It’s always trying to tell you things. Taking the time to listen to is of the utmost importance.
10. Wear whatever you want. Your body shape does not dictate your personal style, and fashion rules that say otherwise are wrong. Dress yourself in a way that makes you feel happy and confident and beautiful, because guess what? You are.
Every once in a while, I like to take a look over the last three years & appreciate just how far I’ve come. Whilst there’s always room for debate in terms of whether or not it is possible to fully recover from an eating disorder (some believe that it’s something to be managed for the rest of your life, and others believe that leaving your ED behind forever is possible for everyone), I know in my heart that I’ve well and truly let my eating disorder go, and that I’m all the better for it.
Notice the language there; I’ve let my eating disorder go, not “my eating disorder eased its grip on me” (or something similar). Two of the most important things I realised during my recovery process were that a) my recovery was in my hands, and b) that I was not helpless. I realised that I needed to take a deep breath and start tackling my fears and anxieties head on, rather than sit around all day and do research and write diet plans for myself and plan the “perfect” recovery, yadda yadda yadda. No therapist had ever told me this (if anything, my therapists were of the “count your calories and weigh yourself religiously” variety); it was something I had to work out by myself. I had to really, really learn to let it all go.
It’s very important to keep asking yourself the following two questions: "Why does this matter?" and "What am I afraid of?". Ask yourself these whenever you feel the slightest tinge of eating-disordered compulsive-anxiety panic coming on; ask yourself these until you’re blue in the face. Eventually, you will stumble across an uncomfortable truth, and that’s what you need to deal with long-term and manage for the rest of your life - not your weight or your calorie intake, believe me.
Every single morning, same time, same place
I would eat my dry Weetabix
Never toast, never eggs, never milk.
Isolated, lonely, cold
As my spoon dug deeper
Into the dry shards of my dry, cold Weetabix.
Even on Christmas morning
When the house was filled with laughter and smiles and excitement and hot, buttery pastries
I kept on digging, I kept on swallowing
I couldn’t join in
I couldn’t live.
And to have told anyone- ‘milk scares me, breakfast scares me, food scares me’- was unthinkable
They wouldn’t understand
They’d think I was crazy
Maybe I was
So instead I’d continue
Restricting and avoiding and dodging
Complimented on my figure and my willpower and my self-control
How do you do it? They asked
If only they knew
It took years before I decided
That living this life was not living
And I took a deep breath and I took my spoon and I forced myself to eat, every bite a battle
But a battle I am winning
And I am joining in
And I am living.
And now, every morning as I pick up my spoon
I think of all the things I’ve missed out on
Like dancing and restaurants and travelling and exploring and skinny dipping and being wild and crazy and free and young
And I look at my milky Weetabix or toast or eggs or porridge or crumpets or muffin or fruit or yoghurt or WHATEVER
And I eat.
For years, I’ve helped people learn to eat normally. Now I can help even more by becoming a Registered Dietitian.
Michelle (@fatnutritionist) is raising money so she can become a registered dietitian.
Please support / share.
Michelle is fantastic. I’ve talked with her before and dear God, that woman is just so selfless and so, so helpful. I’ll definitely be donating.