I have come to the realization that I have been an anchor point for so many people lately, that I haven't been an anchor point for myself. Why did I come to that realization? Because I am beginning to realize that I haven't been taking care of myself the way I wanted or should have been.
An eating disorder is defined as developing an obsessive and unhealthy relationship with food—which often leads to an obsession about weight. Although bulimia is primarily to do with binge eating and purging, weight loss is easily intertwined with these stressful times.
I was 16 when I chose to use drugs as a way to escape my problems. I had a friend who had dropped out of high school and I often visited her on Saturdays. I guess she sensed that I was sad and she offered me a Percocet. I was in pain. My mother had joined an ultra religious cult when I was 5 where women weren’t allowed to be taught and were property of men. There was no asking questions, it was blind devotion I was truly suffering and I couldn’t talk to anyone about what was going on because I was afraid of being labeled a heretic and ostracized. And I did not want to seem uncool in front of my friend who, to me, was the a epitome of cool and so I took one of the horrible white pills. The problem was I didn’t feel anything when I took one Percocet. I just realized that the dull, throbbing pain in my right ankle from a small twist had gone away.
I spent years being afraid of the dark. As a child I felt terrified of the dark but I never knew why. I had conjunctivitis at the age of three and woke up with my eyes glued shut with muck but I already felt afraid of the dark by then. My mother used to think it was because I watched horror movies with my dad (before I was three) but I already felt the fear before then. As I grew and learned I became more and more afraid of the dark until...
The radio blared as the salty water ran down her face. She couldn't help it. She just didn't feel herself anymore. She stared at the wall, through the tears, and couldn't help but wonder why she felt like this. She felt blank; not happy, not sad, not mad, not really anything. She just didn't feel at ease anymore. She thought of everyone around her. It was all coming to an end. She thought she was starting to be okay with it all again, but then it all hit her at once. What the fuck does any of this mean? Why the hell can nobody see that she's miserable? The ones who caused it refused to truly see her. She tried to ease the pain by distracting herself. She started drawing and writing, but all she wanted to do was yell — yell until it hurt, yell until she couldn't anymore, yell until she felt numb again, yell until the world around her was silenced and she could be heard again. Yet, she held back. She was afraid that if she let pain out, it would be absorbed by everyone around her. But even if she allowed that, the guilt would eat her alive. She didn’t want to hurt everybody else around her. She just swallowed the pain and got through every day; some better than others, but some just so badly that she was afraid to wake up everyday to discover what kind of day it would be.