I’m one of those recovery promoters, you know: who DETEST the pro-anorexic movement which seems to treat an eating disorder like a lifestyle choice, as if it’s a game.
But lately, criticizing the “like a game” element has begun to feel somewhat hypocritical, because, to an extent, that’s how it began. One challenge after the next to see how little I could eat, how many times a day I could purge without my parents hearing, the longest I could go without eating. Sick, twisted little games, challenges, with myself.
Me vs. My Body. One big fucking showdown.
The truth is, I think a lot of people labour under that “I could stop whenever I wanted” mentality; they don’t take it seriously. I certainly didn’t. The first time I confided in someone that I was struggling with eating, I managed to convince myself that I was actually LYING, and that my lies made me a bad person, which incurred more self hate and in turn less eating. How WARPED is that? I still do it now, if ever the subject comes up guilt washes over me, like I feel I don’t deserve their angst, their sympathy, their concerns, because all along I was just KIDDING MYSELF that I even had an eating problem.
Then, it hits home that you can’t get out. You’re trapped in a cage you’ve crafted yourself. You get to the bathroom, and you look in the mirror, and you see the fear in your eyes, the pale skin pulled taught over protruding bones, dry lips being bitten in fear. And yet, you force yourself to crouch over that toilet, to force your fingers deep into the back of a throat already aching, and you begin the process all over again.
This control? This power over yourself? This ability to stop, whenever you want? Bullshit, really. And that’s when you realise that you have entered the realms of a full on eating disorder. That moment when you don’t want to purge, when you desperately want to eat, and yet you drag yourself to the bathroom, and push away your salad? That is the moment you realise, you have an eating disorder.
It’s not a game anymore, and it never really was.
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