D.A.

Have you any idea the fear that one of those shallow breaths may be the last?

9.17.13

I'm tired of this struggle

I miss the comfort of my ED

I know it was poisonous

But it never let me down

It wasn't a struggle to stay

It always was

I need that

I miss the comfort of my ED

I miss my ED

Thank you, body.

I was really inspired by this photo from Libero Network.

Written 9.4.13:

So I've had a slight binge today. I feel hungry. My boobs are sore (finally a period perhaps?!?). And truthfully I'm ok with it. Honest to goodness ok with it. I've been gentle with myself. Yes saying "Maybe I shouldn't" but that's because I know I'll feel like crap in the morning. That's what's keeping me from the ice cream and two frozen cake balls!

Then while straightening my hair I began to think over an idea I'd seen online. The body is not permanent. I will take on various shapes and sizes in my lifetime. It already has! Nothing about the body is really permanent. It all regenerates every so many years...

Some years I'll be more squishy. Others maybe not so much. How I cover it or don't cover it will change with my tastes in fashion (or lack thereof!). Each shape, inch, dimple, and stretch mark will tell a story. A story of survival, of family, of pain, of love. Every last bit of me is a piece of someone else's story. My general presence, and not the presence of my shape, will be remembered. They'll remember my laugh, my eyes, how I told the same story over again as if it were new. They will remember my warmth, my spunk, how I made them think and feel.

I will be remembered for all that I am and for all that I invoke. By my spiritual self.

I will not be remembered as a form. I am much more than that. I am a presence. I am a force. I am more than what can be seen with the naked eye.

We are all so temporary. The physical is all so temporary. Ever changing. What a beautiful thing.

And I know I am not my body. I am not my physical being. The sight you see before you.

I am a feeling.

Sometimes..

From April 2012 but still relevant...

Sometimes I miss you, ED.
Sometimes I miss the cold of the floor.

Sometimes I miss the pain of restriction.

Sometimes I miss the bones and the skin.

Sometimes I miss the satisfactory tears.

Sometimes I miss the suffering.

Sometimes I miss the fatigue.

Sometimes I miss not being able to walk.

Sometimes I miss seeing how obsessive I’d become.

Sometimes I miss writing so little and seeing so much less.

Sometimes I miss that number on the scale.

Sometimes I miss striving for perfection.

Sometimes I miss you, ED.

Sometimes I feel like you abandoned me which only makes me suffer more.

Sometimes I feel like I need you but I call out to you and you’re not there.

Sometimes I feel like you've been replaced with gluttony as punishment for trying to get over you.

Sometimes I want to scream at you.

Sometimes I want to call out to you in the night. Come back.

Sometimes I think I can’t live without you.

Sometimes I think I can’t live at all.