I haven’t written in a while. Here’s why. Take a seat. (Trigger Warning)
I want to put into words the numbness that I have felt. I want to find a way of explaining or drawing or sculpting the feelings of sadness and random bursts of tears which I’ve experienced these past few months. I am going to be very bare with you. Here’s the first example of that: it’s been fucking hell.
I couldn’t motivate myself, I couldn’t understand how I was ever happy, but most importantly I wanted just to be gone, to vanish into thin air, or to become paper thin, and be invisible. I didn’t want to add to conversation. I wanted there to be nothing on my body at all. I stopped eating. I couldn’t talk myself into eating breakfast, so I didn’t. Hunger pains meant I was doing it right. And, when I started losing weight (I don’t have a scale, though) I kept going.
I got so sad, and so suicidal that I started trying to starve myself to death. I am so sorry.
And I couldn’t write, or do anything that I didn’t really have to, without just wanting to cry. My friends didn’t make me happy anymore, or maybe it wasn’t that they didn’t make me happy, it was just that I couldn’t be around them and have to talk, or talk to them about why I looked so sad. Maybe, even, and probably, it was because being around them made me happy and I didn’t feel like I deserved that feeling.
But here’s the thing, even though I don’t feel that same numbness, and the feeling in my face and my skin and my bones is slowly coming to life, I still don’t want to eat.
It’s weird, because I know that I need to, I know that If I eat 3 meals a day I won’t gain weight, but… what if I do. I’ve upped my calorie intake, to 1200, and I have days where I eat a lot of chocolate (binging), and I’m trying to eat normally. It’s a lot easier now that I’m happier. But I still hate going over 1200, and last night I definitely was. I didn’t really stop feeling hungry, but I promised myself I’d eat for hunger.
It’s hard, and I can’t explain it. I feel my body, and it has started to connect to me in the way that it did before. I’m not sure who is reading this that has been with my blog (there are very few of you, but I love you a lot) since the beginning, since my posts about the way trees moved and the way yoga made the breath run through my body, my heart and my skin, but I just want you to know that I’m almost there again. It’s been a journey, so it probably will get worse again, but the feeling of life is starting to sew through my fingertips. It has been poetry about the way I want to fall away into no skin, the way I’m angry and the way I just can’t breathe at all. But I am recovering. I am recovering the idea that my life is a journey.
God, I look at the trees and I breathe again, into them. Do you know, the other day, I ignored all of my responsibilities, took a walk, and then let my feet go anywhere that they wanted.
I followed my feet and felt the way my thighs moved (which was hard, because most of the time I want to cut them off) and then I just inhaled. I felt the presence of the atmosphere and the universe and my own life. And then I started crying. And then it started raining. And then I sat down under a tree and shut my eyes, and opened my eyes, and put my hands in the fucking mud and I just felt the earth and the ground and I knew and know that I was and am alive. That will not stop. I am living. It’s my fucking life.
I rearranged my room. I have a lot of natural light now. I am trying to recover a routine I had at my happiest time.
I am remembering that it is okay to love yourself, and nourish yourself, and treat yourself.
You grow with your body, and your body is the product of the love that you give it.
You have choices in life, and you just need to make the right ones. Make the right one for that moment.
So it’s getting better. But it will probably get worse again, and then better. But I hope to God that I don’t feel like I did again.
Fingers crossed that my posts do become more regular, and I keep you updated, and hopefully there will be more for you to read about the passage of the tingling sensation of love through your skin rather than the affairs my fast beating heart has with numbness in my emotions. But God, it’s been a year, and then some truly terrible months, and I think we’re almost back.