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Shit Shows and Hope

     I was sitting in the cafe playing with the last scraps of my salad that had been the remnants of a lunch I actually consumed today. The first lunch eaten in several days. This week has been interesting to say the least. The internal battle has been a fire of rage and fury of self vs, eating disorder vs. perfectionism (Hint: I have been doing a shitastic job at winning) and the noise is simply deafening.       I know people notice when I do not eat. I'm the lab rat, and I detest it. But the starvation is such an addiction, and it is so hard to stop. It's as though the person inside me has manifested into something greater than myself, and it is so hard to suppress that force. It is simply something I cannot conquer alone.
     So around I have been walking, trying so desperately to mask this disorder. This quirk. This broken glitch inside of me, and while some people cannot be fooled, others can. Just as I feel I have everything together, or I am getting there- something casts all my shame out for the whole world to realize.
     Today, two girls wandered over to the table where my friend and I were finishing our lunch. Psych majors, who I recognized from one of my psych classes (I'm picking up a minor if you were wondering what a vocal major was doing in a psych class..) but ANYWAYS- they asked us if they could ask some questions for one of their courses. Had I a clue the questions would scream "look at the anorexic girl that sits in your class!," I probably would have jumped out the window and run the other direction. I mean, getting up and walking away is always an option too, but the window just sounds more dramatic. These questions were about diets, exercise, wanting to lose weight, body image... SERIOUSLY?! Great. One week into the semester, and the people who I barely know now full damn well can figure that one out.
      I never realized the deep shame I felt in this. This... defect. This monster inside of me I have created, and struggle to break free from. This sense of guilt, and insufficiency has stuck like glue. It's as though someone hung the sign of shame around my head explaining I will never amount to enough- and I believed it.
     But the good news is- I do not have to buy into that. I have a voice- and while I do not feel I deserve to use it, or give myself that grace- I know I must. I know if I cannot do it for myself, there is a little girl deep down who I would never hurt. I know out there are thousands of other people hurting and dying every day who my heart breaks for, and I would do anything for. I may not be able to do much for them, but I certainly cannot do anything for them if I cannot help myself first.
     I am learning, and slowly trying to accept I am not broken in my flaws. This battle is part of the scars that create who I am. This shame is a blip. Skipping a meal is difficult, but you simply get back on the road and keep going. I cannot stop- I mustn't. It is awful to feel the guilt and shame masked around you- like an impending cloud, but behind the clouds lies an eternal light. No matter how thick this fog is... there's hope.

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