She had gone pale, with a glazed over empty disposition about her. She laid in the uncomfortable hospital bed in the emergency room; her body pale as the wall to which she blankly fixed her eyes, listening to the hollow, and quiet tick of the clock that filled the room of harsh fluorescent lighting. Her body curled into the bed leaving but a small imprint, as the i.v. protruded out of her limp arm, and the bag filled with fluids slowly drained itself of life in order to sustain hers. Beneath her blank gaze, her mind was a raging tsunami. The smile she had held through her recovery, was but the mask for a slippery slope into her descent...
I had to make a choice recently, and it is still haunting me in my thoughts. To leave school until the fall was one of the most difficult decisions I have had to make- but I know that recovery must come first. Wandering the empty hallways in the day before I left, realizing I was one of the few who filled the empty space, but would be gone upon everyone else's return was surreal. To say 'see you soon,' and admit that I was not strong enough is a feeling that has continued to eat at me. Returning to the discomforts of treatment with a glimpse and dream of recovery is terrifying, but when the numbers do not lie, and continue to plummet, it is time. For my medical team at Hershey, my professors, my therapist, and those who have supported me in these difficult moments even though I sometimes push you away- thank you does not even begin to cover it.
For a choice that was 'best,' in this storm, I feel the utter realm of failure and defeat. How the hell could I allow this to happen again? I allow my mind to peruse the contents of my pathetic existence, with the chaos which I have created and do not know how to fix anymore. It is as if someone brought me to the surface with my lifejacket, and then un hinged it, but forgot to teach me how to swim. Between my smile, and my gaze are the masks of shame- only at this point, it is no longer invisible to the people around me- something which I had been able to conceal beneath the show of smiles and laughter for far too long.
I realize I have pushed the people I care about most out of my life in order to let Ana and Ed in. These shadows have swallowed me piece by piece as I have traversed down a slippery slope. Longing for the false security amidst the "terrifying world" and embracing the "acceptance" from these characters that have once again deceived me, and manipulated me the way I have lied to others. Nights in the gym, early morning workouts, the finger dancing around the steamed black coffee that really highlighted those designer bags under my eyes as I transformed into a ragdoll..
When you allow the sick games to take over, you find yourself gazing at yourself, but she is no longer you. She is gone- she has already let everyone down. Myself, the people around me for which I care most, the choir who I would give anything to be with right now... and you do not even realize what happened to get you here because your head is still spinning from the descent, or, perhaps it is just your dizziness from severe dehydration, and not having eaten a legitimate meal in a number of days. Simple 'should haves' and 'could haves' will no longer fix the messes which I have created. It is far too late to go back and change these things. I can only move forward from here. However, I know that I can no longer cling to the "comforts" to which I have taken. The visitors occupying my life must be evicted, lest I lose my life in the process. I cannot crave the comforts and edges of the eating disorder which has "sheltered" me for so long.
I no longer want to be the sick girl. I am so fucking sick of censoring my mouth, and pretending everything is okay because I am not. And guess what? There is nothing wrong with that. But, in this, I am sick of fighting and sinking, and struggling to swim with a vest. It is time I damn well learn to actually swim. I am going to cease my moments, and go out swinging. It will not be perfect, and it will be messy. I am going to make mistakes- and I am going to accept them. I have to. Recovery is not perfect, but it is not supposed to be.
I had to make a choice recently, and it is still haunting me in my thoughts. To leave school until the fall was one of the most difficult decisions I have had to make- but I know that recovery must come first. Wandering the empty hallways in the day before I left, realizing I was one of the few who filled the empty space, but would be gone upon everyone else's return was surreal. To say 'see you soon,' and admit that I was not strong enough is a feeling that has continued to eat at me. Returning to the discomforts of treatment with a glimpse and dream of recovery is terrifying, but when the numbers do not lie, and continue to plummet, it is time. For my medical team at Hershey, my professors, my therapist, and those who have supported me in these difficult moments even though I sometimes push you away- thank you does not even begin to cover it.
For a choice that was 'best,' in this storm, I feel the utter realm of failure and defeat. How the hell could I allow this to happen again? I allow my mind to peruse the contents of my pathetic existence, with the chaos which I have created and do not know how to fix anymore. It is as if someone brought me to the surface with my lifejacket, and then un hinged it, but forgot to teach me how to swim. Between my smile, and my gaze are the masks of shame- only at this point, it is no longer invisible to the people around me- something which I had been able to conceal beneath the show of smiles and laughter for far too long.
I realize I have pushed the people I care about most out of my life in order to let Ana and Ed in. These shadows have swallowed me piece by piece as I have traversed down a slippery slope. Longing for the false security amidst the "terrifying world" and embracing the "acceptance" from these characters that have once again deceived me, and manipulated me the way I have lied to others. Nights in the gym, early morning workouts, the finger dancing around the steamed black coffee that really highlighted those designer bags under my eyes as I transformed into a ragdoll..
When you allow the sick games to take over, you find yourself gazing at yourself, but she is no longer you. She is gone- she has already let everyone down. Myself, the people around me for which I care most, the choir who I would give anything to be with right now... and you do not even realize what happened to get you here because your head is still spinning from the descent, or, perhaps it is just your dizziness from severe dehydration, and not having eaten a legitimate meal in a number of days. Simple 'should haves' and 'could haves' will no longer fix the messes which I have created. It is far too late to go back and change these things. I can only move forward from here. However, I know that I can no longer cling to the "comforts" to which I have taken. The visitors occupying my life must be evicted, lest I lose my life in the process. I cannot crave the comforts and edges of the eating disorder which has "sheltered" me for so long.
I no longer want to be the sick girl. I am so fucking sick of censoring my mouth, and pretending everything is okay because I am not. And guess what? There is nothing wrong with that. But, in this, I am sick of fighting and sinking, and struggling to swim with a vest. It is time I damn well learn to actually swim. I am going to cease my moments, and go out swinging. It will not be perfect, and it will be messy. I am going to make mistakes- and I am going to accept them. I have to. Recovery is not perfect, but it is not supposed to be.
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