I’ve moved: etherealdust.tumblr.com
I always squirm a little when someone mentions anything about how “perfect” my body is or how much “self-control” I have because of what I eat (or don’t eat).
I’m surrounded by talks of diet no matter where I am or who I’m with - even during a football game, the main topic of discussion was Weight Watchers Points.
I avoid describing myself as “healthy” and I never participate in body-hate speech. I’ve never counted calories or been on a diet. I’ve never been afraid of any (type of) food.
… and I somehow managed to stumble into the world of disordered eating.
It can happen to anyone.
I vaguely remember a time when I had a body, I had a mind.
Twenty pounds heavier but I was lighter and freer than I could ever imagine.
The world was mine.
I laughed and screamed and cried and loved and felt everything I could possibly feel and when I was exhausted from all those endless nights, I would collapse on my bed and spend hours upon hours reminiscing and writing down all the details of moments that I wasn’t sure I’d ever have again.
I am no longer that girl I once was.
I am a shell of a person, a body without anything inside.
I lost my mind, I lost myself.
strangers never cease to amaze me with their kindness. (Taken with Instagram)
In all honesty, though. The worst was over long before midnight. In fact, just a few short minutes before, I finally had the courage to tell some friends that I was with that I was born twenty-two years earlier and they all sang and I blew out a candle.
I promise this is the last of my writing in such messy forms with words so casually tossed together.
I think the part that sucked the most was that I couldn’t even go out to eat or get some fucking cake or cookie dough or dessert or anything that would taste remotely good.
You don’t know how bad it can get until it gets worse.