06.18.2017 // What Your "Sick Body" Really Represents
Looking back at my body the past couple years I can’t even say that I was the one who had it, it was all gone to the disease. Every single photo fills me with a nostalgic pull of the disorder, the points in the pro list and the reasons you are scared of the cons.
And then I come back to the now. That was not my body. The sense of security and satisfaction with that body was the same water flowing down a stream, only to drop 100 ft seconds later into the falls below. That body held nothing for me. The initial rush of seeing the picture passes as the memories flood back, painfully and quickly.
Crying, isolation, friends being lost, interests fading away. Running gets cut, I can never stay warm, bradycardia, it’s all in the mix. There is no good with that kind of body because it was never mine. It belonged and lived for, the disorder. Going back means letting go of myself to a bitch in my head who tells me I am not enough for anything. Going back to that means that I am spending more time in the hospital, more time away from school, and more time obsessing about that extra piece of food. By going back I am loosing all control, only to try and gain something that’s completely fabricated and illusionary - there is no such thing as a better life with an eating disorder.
My body now is mine. The scars of the eating disorder persist in the rolls of my stomach, in the pictures of my past self, in each negative thing I say about myself; I feel the scar that the disease left on me. It is times like these that I remember those scars, remember I am still healing, and remember how much that wound hurt me in the first place.