Dying to live

The scale better start moving before I lose my mind…

If it doesn’t I’ll cry…

If it doesn’t, I’ll die.

Pathetic.

This monster has been in my head for 6 years now, took my health and nearly my life one year ago, as a result…forced me to spend most of my teenage years in the hospital, and still…

Still, I obey the rules.

Sometimes I honestly don’t know what to say; or how to feel.

Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going; or where I’m not.

When I catch myself staring at my reflection and pinching my stomach, I feel like crying. Because I wonder…

How did I get here?

How did I fall this far?

Why do I keep coming here?

How do I get out?

I try so hard to keep my head above the water, and something just keeps pulling me down. It’s a monster inside of me that says, “You’re fat. You’re ugly. You’re stupid. You’re worthless. You’re disgusting. You’re a pig. You’re a mistake. You’re an embarrassment. You exist.”

I don’t know how to pull myself out anymore, I’ve been struggling on my own for too long.

I don’t know how to ask for help anymore, because no one seems to listen.

I keep sinking to new lows, meeting new dangers, and getting closer to the edge, just to see if someone would understand or notice.

Nothing…nowhere…no one. No one.

Not my parents, not my boyfriend, not my friends, not myself.

The less I eat, the more powerful I feel, but the weaker I become.

I’m scared of dying, but I’m so tired of living this way.

…what do normal people eat?

I like to pretend that you don’t effect me and that you don’t exist. You’ve been telling me and everyone around me that I’m doing ‘better’. That is a lie. Sure, you haven’t been quite as obvious and loud as you have in the past. But you still whisper sneakily in my ear little suggestions that alter my mood and my food. You’re not completely to blame though, because I’ve been ignorant and have been listening to you. Today you told me not to eat anything, and I didn’t. Now I’m sitting here at my desk, my stomach comfortably empty, and I am angry. I am angry at you, and I’m angry at me. Please just leave me alone, I don’t have the strength to fight you.

…you’re sitting in the T.V. room with your family and an Eating Disorders/Anorexia Nervosa awareness commercial comes on and the room goes quiet. But you can feel everyone staring at you.

I’m sorry.

I don’t know if what has just happened tonight is the best or worst thing that could have happened to me right now. My head is spinning…I don’t know what to think.

My mom knows. Fuck she knows.

I came home tonight, texted my mom at work to let her know I was home safe…the usual, when she texted me back saying that we need to talk in the morning. Confused, I made my way up the stairs, opened the door to my room…and the first thing I saw was my trash can, empty. EMPTY. My heart almost jumped out of my chest  because now I know what she wants to talk about. When I left the house earlier today my bin was full of uneaten food, BAGS of it.

My hands are shaking, I don’t know what else to say. I know she’s not stupid and I know very well that she’s noticed my declining state, but I’ve kept denying the accusations until now. She’s just been waiting, looking out for evidence against me to prove her case. Well now she’s found some, and I’m fucked.

I’ve been found out…in the worst way. I can’t describe to you the numbing terror I feel right now, because I know that it’s over. I don’t know whether I should be happy or upset. Crying or screaming. Scared of relieved.

She knows. She knows everything. No more hiding.

Tomorrow…I find out my fate.

I never thought I would sink back to this level of desperation and obsession.

He became so frustrated with me that he was almost screaming, and I was nearly crying.

“Why are you mad at me…?” I tried to hold back my tears.

“I’m not-“ his voice was shaking, I think he realized how angry he’d become because his voice softened. “-I’m not mad at you…I’m mad at your anorexia.”

I only feel okay when I don’t eat anything at all.

Every day that I’m left alone, the thoughts get stronger, the obsession grows. I don’t trust myself at all because I know that myself is out to get me. And the more I sit down to think the more frustrated I become when I realize that I don’t know where I’m going in life or what I want.

At this very moment, I keep telling myself that I have no time to get help or try to recover because I have too many things to do. I have to get a job, I can’t miss out on the summer with my friends, I’ve missed enough school and I need to catch up, my room needs to be cleaned, I need to do as many things as I possibly can in this small amount of time. I need to pretend to be okay. It just doesn’t really register in my head that…if I keep going like this, I’ll be too dead to do any of those things anyways.

I feel like all my life is right now is my eating disorder, it’s consumed every part of me…mind, body, soul. I try to escape from it and distract myself with books, friends, games, music, cleaning, anything…but it’s always there in the back of my mind.

“Hello Meesha, I’m still here.

Well shit.

No escape.

Every day, my life is ruled by this invisible dictator that controls every single one of my actions and thoughts.

Wake up, take out the tape measure and measure every part of my body. Go to the bathroom. Repeat with the tape measure. Then I stare into the mirror, turn every which way and stretch, suck in, breathe out, pinch the fat on my stomach and thighs. Still too much. Fat pig.

Then I think about eating, consider it…should I? Am I hungry..? No, I’m never hungry. Do I even deserve it? No you don’t.

Decide it’s too much anxiety, drink water instead. Then proceed to run up and down the stairs until your legs don’t work anymore (it doesn’t take much…I don’t have much energy anyways. But I still try). I collapse on my bed and go through hundreds of recipes on my laptop, spend a couple hours reading about food and diet and rationalizing that the reason my stomach is making noise is because I’m digesting things (even though I haven’t eaten).

Still fighting with myself on whether or not to eat. Damnit.

Spend the rest of the day on the stairs, measuring, drinking water, reading, going in and out of the kitchen and looking at everything in the pantry and fridge obsessively. Check all the labels. I do this multiple times through out the day.

It’s like I never think about or do anything else except for what my thoughts allow. I’m trapped in this prison with a demon I can’t escape from…and that demon is so deeply rooted in me that it’s hard to tell where I start and it begins.

Some days I finally decide to eat something, but after what…pacing in the kitchen for  hours until I make my final decision. Some days are easier than others, but barely by much. Most days are much harder.

Right now…I’m struggling to find a reason to keep moving on. It feels like I’ll always be haunted by anorexia (God I hate that word) and I’ll never be able to escape it. The idea that…I could have this forever, I could suffer for the rest of my life, I’ll never be normal…makes me want it to just kill me faster.

I just want to give up, and say, fine, have me. I give up. Take me, and just let me die.

I feel so low right now…and it’s getting harder to keep up my fake smile.  I keep telling everyone that I’m alright, I can do this on my own, and that I don’t need help. I sometimes wish someone could see through the bullshit and call me out on it. Because honestly, if no one does…then I won’t be alive for very much longer. In some ways, I look forward to slipping into nothingness…and in another, I wish that I could be saved.