I read pro ana blogs several hours every day. I used to think it was because they inspired me. Made me want to do better, become a better person. Work harder and lose weight faster, more efficiently.
Yesterday I was reading an Australian girl’s blog. It could have been anyone’s, but this time it was hers. She had reached her goal weight. No surprise; she still wanted to lose more weight. You always end up wanting to lose more. She asked her readers whether anyone actually ever reaches their GW and are satisfied, want to stay there and maintain.
I look at myself in the mirror. I look at the number the scale showed me this morning.
This is me revising my goal weight; not because I don’t think I can reach it, or because I’ve realized it’s not low enough. I’m doing it, because I am as close to being happy about my body as I will ever be without exercise.
When I started out, I didn’t know I had an eating disorder. I was depressed and wanted to kill myself. I remember eating nothing but a packet raisins one weekend – Thursday through Monday – and smoking so many cigarettes my fingers were yellow. But I didn’t decide not to eat. I just couldn’t. I was unhappy with my body, that’s true. It just never occurred to me that I had the power to do something about it.
When I was hospitalized for my depression, anxiety and generally wanting to kill myself, I had lost 6 kilos in about a month. Then I started eating healthy, because they stuck me with a nutritionist, and I started exercising because they gave me physical therapy. I got better. I got out. I forgot all about what made me want to live again.
But sometimes … sometimes I don’t feel so very lost anymore. It feels good to be alone in my apartment. It feels like home. I haven’t felt like I had a home in almost three years. Since I moved out of my parents’ house, I have moved seven times.
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I’m not particularly happy or sad or wrought with any kind of emotion. I just needed someone to know that sometimes someone does reach a point where they’re at least quasi-happy with themselves. That not everything is lost.
I don’t know any of you reading this, but I love you. I care for you and I hurt when you hurt, and sometimes I cry when you let into your lives with your writing. You are not alone and you do matter.
All the best to everyone.
No comments:
Post a Comment