Say You Don't Need It

My thoughts are scattered today.

They multiply with each stroke of the key and bounce between wanting recovery and needing this disorder.

It's in the later state of mind that I write these words.

I know it seems odd to put my hope in something that I’ve never experienced.

It’s that uncertainty that keeps me clutching to this disorder today.

I’ve been waiting, for so long, for these anorexic thoughts to be over.

The realization that these disordered thoughts don’t magically go away with recovery, keeps me living in the grey.

I always thought I’d reach out for recovery when I reached my lowest weight.

I thought it would be dramatic like in the movies. That I lay crying, pounding my hands into the pillow until I was exhausted and then proclaim my desire to be free from this disorder. (.. sorry, I’ve watched too many Lifetime movies.)

Recovery is an active process and for the past couple of months, I have not been actively wanting to recover.

I only eat because I know that I won’t hold on to it.

I know that you don’t understand but it doesn’t taste like anything to me at all.

I’m full after a couple of bites and I stop as soon as you turn around.

I don’t talk while I eat because I’m forcing the bites.

My newfound desire to cook is just an act.


You see this is where life is not like the movies. In the movies, there is always a scene where the character has a major breakdown and is forced to recover.

The downfall didn't happen all at once; maybe it happened when I flunked out of school, or when I clutched my hand over my heart thinking that I was dying.

Maybe it happened when I lost chunks of my hair and my nails turned purple.

Maybe I am at my lowest because I've been lying to everyone about wanting recovery when there is a part of me that is not ready to give this up.