Did you ever realize how much your body loves you? It’s always trying to keep you alive. It’s making sure you breathe while you sleep, stopping cuts from bleeding, fixing broken bones, finding ways to beat the illnesses that might get you. Your body literally loves you so much. It’s time you start loving it back.
This morning I got up early to get ready for spin. First time I’ve gone in 2 weeks, unlike when I’m feeling better and less ed-y and I go 2x a week happily. And I’m in my lululemon pants my college roommate bought me at the gala I went with her to (where I felt fat) and today I know I’m larger than I was then and I am all in my head. My boobs are bigger now, because of hormones and the slight increase in my weight I can feel but don’t know the number of because #treatment, and I see them in my purple tye-dye sports bra and I feel disgusting (isn’t that funny? Aren’t we supposed to like boobs? Not me. I want nothing. Nothing, Ed says, is thin).
And there he is, my almost 30 year old love, and he looks all sexy in his white t-shirt in our bed and he reaches out to me to pull me in. We do this. I get ready for the day, he sleeps in, he reaches to me and pulls me in and I flop on top of him and nuzzle into his neck and we steal a few more minutes of the day. I like how we feel together (when Ed is not in control). It’s one of my favorite parts of the day.
But this morning he reaches for me and I pull back. You’re too fat, Ed says. Think about all the crap you’ve eaten this week. You are disgusting, living on ice cream and cookies and over eating and sneaking small bites of fudge you disgusting person. You can’t let him know how big you are. Don’t go to him. I take a breath.
Last night he came to bed later, and I’m all not sober and had eaten ice cream and 2 big cookies after dinner and I got up and ate some wheat thins and came back to bed and he comes into the bed and he tries to pull me towards him to cuddle and I pretend I’m super asleep because I don’t want him to feel my bloated stomach. We don’t touch much this week because I won’t let him. You’re disgusting, ed whispers.
This morning I took a deep breath, sucked in and laid on him for a minute before I left. And that’s how we spent the last morning of his 20’s. Me not present because Ed wouldn’t let me be. And I let ed control me.
Ed doesn’t want me to enjoy myself. Sometimes the lack of extreme impulses makes me think I’m okay and I’m ed-free and just a disgusting human. But this morning as I sat in spin and couldn’t turn up the resistance much because Ed kept telling me to leave class "this is triggering you!" Ed says and also it was telling me to not eat anything after spin so I could make the exercise worth my while and then I heard the voice. There’s no grey ground for Ed. Ed will do anything it can to make me hate myself. And, lucky me, my Ed has lots of variations. Oh, no, I’m gone, Ed says. You WANT to stop eating gluten. You SHOULD eat that cookie instead of a nutritious breakfast. YOU FAT BITCH. NO FOOD FOR YOU YOU ARE A DISGUSTING PERSON HOW COULD YOU HAVE EATEN THAT. And then I’m at work (where everyone is dieting all the time) and I feel torn and mixed up and Ed has integrated his voice right back into mine and I didn’t even notice. I thought it was me. Nope.
Ed wants me to do things so that I won’t enjoy. So I can’t focus on my work. So I spend hours researching Agave Syrup vs. Honey vs. Almond butter vs. peanut butter and gluten free and all the diets in the world and no you can’t walk in the middle aisles of the grocery store or eat anything that has seasoning or anything at all nope you have to get rid of all of it or else it’s not even worth it and you should just subsist on things that make you feel sick. So when he reaches to me, on the last day of his 20’s, I can’t enjoy his lovely face and the puppies hopping to get in the bed with us and how lucky I am to be in love and have the ability to go to spin and go to bridal showers and drink nice wine. No. Ed tells me to drink ALL THE WINE. If you get drunk, you won’t notice me! So I do and I eat more and I feel disgusting.
So fuck you, Ed. You snuck back in for a hot second. You can go fuck yourself. When I went to treatment, I remember this moment right before where I went for an hour walk with my dad and heard not one word he said because I was obsessing over calories and my body and how it moved. ANd this morning was similar. You didn’t get in fully. You disguised yourself as my voice for a miunte. You’re good at that, Ed. I forgot because it’s been 2 years since you owned me fully. But I hear you now. And I know it’s going to be tough and difficult to get back on track, but I’m not doing anything drastic. I’m going to stop doing what you tell me. And I’m taking my life back. You don’t get to have it. It’s mine and I want it.
I want to flop on my love on the last day of his 20’s and not think about my body. That’s the thing when I’m eating well without restrictions for ME, not ed. I have good instincts. My body feels good (and no, I don’t eat “clean” or whatever. I eat in moderation but food is food) and I can live my life. Ed doesn’t want that. But I do. I’m reclaiming my mind. Ed doesn’t get it for one more year. You had me for a decade. I missed years because of you. I want these years now and I’m back and I’m fighting you fucker. And I will win.
— Eat, Pray, Love (via lac3ysg0n3withguilt)