Anorexic Thoughts

The weeks of living with the opposite extreme (bulimia) of this disorder (anorexia) have passed.

I am a novice of having one disorder too many so I sit here trying to make sense of it.

However, what rational thought could be uttered after the two extremes have played tug-of-war with your sanity?

**** It was months, before I felt my mother’s eyes bore into mine demanding to know why and how I lost fifty pounds.

Years have passed and I can’t form the sentences. It didn’t happen fast and it’s not something that I can turn on and off like the flipping of a light switch.

No, the anorexic thoughts slowly crept in; swelling to find an occupancy in the hallow spaces.

Every now and then, my eyes jar when I catch a glimpse of my image. Somehow, I can’t focus and the indents and sharp lines fade.

The behaviors, I guess crept in too. Now, I don’t remember how to be any other way.

I can’t eat without anxiety, my hand wraps around my wrist, my eyes scan the numbers and the excuses spill out of my mouth by instinct.

The hunger and the craving for life crept away too. Less became more and a singular thought, emptiness, filled my mind.

Every part of me, was bent on deceiving everyone and keeping this for me. I plastered a smile as I locked myself in my room and exercised for hours.

It was in this state, that I was cornered into thoughts of recovery. I fully didn’t or couldn’t see the severity of the situation but I feared the beginning of something new.

A nagging feeling deep down at the pit of my stomach, the fear of losing control, brought about a panicked state of hunger.

I couldn’t silence the thoughts or shake the guilt so I ate to numb the pain. To everyone around, I seemed to be getting better.

I had an appetite and I was filling my plate.

I ate but I wouldn’t let myself enjoy the taste or let it weigh me down.

The anorexic thoughts of needing to feel empty collided with my newfound anxiety to eat and recover.

This viscous cycle has passed and I honestly don’t know how I snapped out of it.

The panic of losing control and the urgency to eat and get better have left.

The anorexic thoughts are back and every bite is yet again forced.

The rational part of my mind, that one that keeps me above 92, is the one I am clinging on to. It isn’t recovery just yet.

I just can’t imagine living without the these thoughts, and being fully recovered.

I fear that this disorder is like having the security of speaking my first language when words fail me.

I try to silence (anorexia) the words that so easily form at my mouth and the restrain (recovery) is a taste that I have yet to acquire.

Years ahead, when I have forgotten my mother tongue, in a moment of weakness or a lapse of judgment, I fear that I may utter words that jar at their ears.


I walked in circles
Day turned into night
but still the shadow grew
casting a parting of paths.

I stalk the pavement
Longing for familiar ground
But the shadows multiply
casting a bending of lines