But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Struggles Who will I be, when I am not who I am? When I am not who I have been for so long? What thoughts will consume my mind? How will I live out my days? I am so scared. So afraid of the future. Here they are making me apply for social security benefits. They say it is to help me along, but I feel that it is because they truly believe that I cannot make it. And what if I can't? The temptation to buy laxatives, binge and purge, hide food, or to just punish myself in some way has become greater lately. "When it sucks, it must be working." One of the staff said that to me. But this hasn't been the case in the past. It is so hard to look in the mirror and see that I now have hips, thighs, and ass, and small breasts. I am shocked each time I catch a glimpse. I try to not look for too long, afraid that I will fall into the mirror, become one with it, and it will trap me forever. I will become a prisoner of my own image. And that is what I am doing now by accepting recovery. Why is that so hard to accept? To accept that I will have to live in this vessel that is my carrier of my own life? Why are some days better than others? Why am I so scared? I am afraid of living, I am not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of hanging in between the lines... I walk into Rite-Aid. For twenty minutes I stare at the laxatives. Dulcolax is on sale. $7.00 off. A bargain, really. But I must ask myself, is it? And I begin to shake, my heart races. I must remind myself that I have sworn them off, it has been sixteen months, and I will never again take them. Because of what they did to my heart. Because of the heart attack. But another part says, "That was so long ago. You can do it again. It will be fine. And you will lose weight. Just a small part of your eating disorder..." But I know that it isn't. And my heart races. I rush to the check out line with my gum and Diet Pepsi. I did not buy them. Yet recovery can be misery. It hurts so bad but it feels so good. I am so confused. I know I want to get better. I know I want to live. This I know, so why is it such a challenge to keep it in sight? I feel that I am blind, walking on a mountain path. One slip and I will fall. Back into darkness, back into Hell. What is attractive about that? I cannot go there, so I do not purge, I go to Burger King, I eat cookies, I talk in therapy, and I do not buy the laxatives... And someday I will be better. ************************************** a note: Thank you all for the encouraging messages. They bring tears to my eyes. It is great to know that I have support, and you are all in my heart. I thank God every night for such wonderful people. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. I have written letters back to those of you who wrote me. **************************************** Someday we will all be more than okay. 9:35 p.m. - 2004-06-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- |
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