Things are progressing and if I think about this for a full moment and really feel what’s happening, I know that I’m in deep and I know that I don’t know how to get out. Mom asked me why I wasn’t in maintenance for my weight; I told her I didn’t know how to do maintenance. I couldn’t eat that many calories.
Alyson telling me I’m going too far, Joe says he’s taking away all the mirrors in the house because I don’t use them responsibly, mom making me feel bad that my breasts have shrunk, that my clothing doesn’t fit properly because everything is too big. I cannot please.
Here’s everything else: great new job, great yoga teacher training starts tomorrow, I’m 1 pound away from goal weight number one (which is great), Joseph is great, everything is so so so so so so so sooooooooooooooooo. great.
And now I need to cry. Or sleep for days, or escape through meds/shopping/tv, or cut, or simply feel a silent shriek inside at how incredibly unbearable it is to be in my own skin right now. If I could fly into pieces or shards or vapor, I would. In an instant.
My voice is so small and still and subdued right now. I don’t even feel like it is me typing these words. But I do read YOUR words, you sweet, kind, loving people. And though I may not have the capacity to respond, please know that I do hear you, but my words are flowing at a pace all their own and like everything else, I feel powerless to change it. I’m grateful you hear me.
