Rn remembering years ago when my First Love™️ was talking me through my Super Bad ED thoughts bc at the time i’d been falling into a bad relapse after a long stretch of doing well and I remember so clearly, her saying she doesn’t want to keep watching me die.
And that was kind of the first time anyone had ever said it that way, you know? Not “hurting” myself, not something like self harm, or panic attacks, or something that can be turned around. Permanent.
Because I’ve never rlly thought of my ED as something that’s killing me, u know? Because I don’t feel like it’s bad enough, and i never have. But she looked at what I was doing and thought, this is going to kill her. She’s going to die from this if it doesn’t stop. Maybe not now, but one day.
And idk. It’s just hitting me, that that really is what we’re doing. What I’m doing. Because I look at length of time of “how long can a person go without eating” and the answers always three weeks, but I’m like “oh i almost fasted that long one time, I’m aiming to beat that record right now, actually! It’s not that bad”
Or how long a person can go without water/liquid, and I think “oh yah that time I didn’t drink anything for three days was hell, definitely don’t recommend” like????? What kind of motherfucking stupid brain do I have??? To just casually accept shit like that???
How we tear our bodies apart and let the pieces fall where they may. Pass out in the shower? Well if I wake up, great. Awesome. Maybe I’ll put some honey under my tongue to help my blood sugar. Purging until we bleed, destroying our digestive systems, hurting and hurting and breaking and dying.
Having an eating disorder is killing us.
We’re, dying? Maybe we won’t die now. But to continue, is to step closer to it.
Idk. Idk. I’m very tired. This isn’t- it’s not. It’s not ok. I’m not well. We aren’t well. We aren’t well.
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