Sunday, July 11, 2010

I Need You Like a Bad Habit; One That Leaves Me Defenseless, Dependent, and Alone

I recently found out that as the summer semester ends on August 10, I have to be moved out of my apartment (which is off-campus but still part of student housing) by August 12. This constitutes a bit of a problem because I have about a week before move-in for the fall semester begins -- which means a week to spend with my parents.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't mind this. It's only a week. But my eating disorder is going crazy with the knowledge that there's no way I can continue to restrict in this manner with my parents around, especially because they'd be on heightened alert -- obviously, I do not look well at all. I've lost close to 15 pounds since they saw me last, only a couple months ago, and I was at a low weight then too. The "me" part of me is relieved: I'd planned to start recovery at the end of the summer anyhow, and being around my family, needing to reassure them that all was well, would be a great way to kick my butt back into gear. It's only two weeks before I thought I'd be starting recovery anyway, and it might be the two weeks that make the difference between life and death. I really, really don't want to die. I worry about it all the time. I'm pretty sure I can
hold on for another month, but existing is getting harder, there's no denying it. However, I'm still making it to all my classes, doing all my homework, and getting great grades, so at least I don't feel like a failure.

I have an entire constellation of bruises above my left hip from carrying a laundry basket up and down the stairs a couple of times. My knees, too, are bruised from supporting the seemingly inconsequential weight of my laptop. I have to sleep on top of a comforter because my mattress is too hard now; it presses up against my hipbones and spine and it's painful. Even the little things require more physical effort -- walking, sitting up, riding my bike, getting in and out of the car, opening doors. And there's still the neck lanugo.

^Peach fuzz!

This is not glamorous.

But I need it, just for a little longer. Because of the weight loss, I no longer hate my entire body -- just certain parts of it, like my butt. I don't even hate my legs anymore! I've always loathed my legs, which seemed entirely too large for the rest of me, but now -- now my thighs don't touch, and while they're still bigger than my knees, it's not by much. In fact, my ass might be the only component of my body that I genuinely detest. Do you know how good that feels? To only hate ONE part of your body? That has never happened before. Granted, I still dislike my hips, and there's always room for improvement all over, and I don't think I look very skinny -- but I don't hate my body. It's amazing.

I just need a little more. A little more indulgence in my anorexia, and then I'm done. For good. Forever. I'll remember how bad this feels (I can't even begin to describe all my physical symptoms) and how everything hurts and everything terrifies me and how I have no social life, no life at all, no energy at all, and I'll never look back. But until then... just 10 more pounds. Just another month and a couple of days.

I told you in my very first entry I was like an addict; don't be surprised if the language I use and the mentality I have is similar. Because really, I am addicted to anorexia -- and I'm going to quit. Right after this last hurrah.

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