Since August my BMI has gone from 17.3 to 16.0.
I cannot tell you about the elation that fills me with, but at the same time I am angry that is isn't 15, or 14.
My head spins with how heavy I feel. It seems the less I weigh, the heavier the weight on my body gets. Walking round shadowed by a heaviness that is unrelenting and sends me into a spin. I need time and I need space, from myself.
Wednesday I was crumbling. I'm balancing on this fine line between getting admitted and remaining free. I'm between everything, inbetweeness defines my journey to recovery entirely. It is a series of forced decisions that I don't want to make. I want to get skinny, but I want to be well. I want my mind to be released from this craziness it is overwhelmed by. I don't want to be overcome by panic when I see food, when I smell food, I don't want to panic when I taste food. I want to be okay.
There is a dizziness that comes from eating, and a dizziness that comes from not eating. When I eat it's this heavy, weighted dizzy that makes me feel like I cannot cope any more. When I'm empty, it's an empowered dizzy, it's delirium. It feels good. Emptiness, to me is good. I don't feel hunger any more. I don't need to eat. I'm alert, I'm stronger and I have clarity when I am starved.
She starts saying all this stuff about my appearance. I'm telling her again and again I don't have anorexia. I don't. But she says from my facial structure to my legs, anorexia is written all over me. But it is not and I've never wanted to scream in someones face so much that they are wrong. Can she not see this weight that is weighing me down so entirely. I am so heavy. I understand that even when the kgs drop on the scales that I don't feel any better, it's just the start of a new game with myself. Inside is the same broken soul that is lost, and no amount of weight loss is going to satisfy me.
I hate how that place makes me feel vulnerable. I hate how I'm handled and spoken to like I'm vulnerable. I hate that she makes me sit down. I hate that she puts her hand on my shoulder when I go to stand up and wait instead of sitting, I hate that control. I hate that I just want to burst up and sprint around like a crazy person. I hate how my arm feels bruised and weak from endless blood tests. I hate everything about this. I want to be skinny, but I want my mind to be well.
I want my old self back now. I want to do things without fear, without the panic that is instigated by food and food related scenarios. I want to interact with people without wondering what they aren't saying. I want to be in a room full of people and not feel like the biggest monster there. I want to have an attention span. I want to be able to concentrate. I want every other thought not to be of weight and fat and food.
Weight is just a symptom of a sinking heart that belongs to a soul that is a bit lost. It's going to be a long journey of coming back to me. It's going to be a shitty time of acceptance and re-acceptances. It's going to be understanding the weight on my body isn't bad. Even typing that gives me shudders.
But, it's like she says. Ana isn't my friend anymore. It's a funnel, and I have to make a choice between this and that.
- Loola. X