I remember the first time I ate too much and threw up. I did it when ever I thought I had been mean to someone.
I remember the first time I held a razor in my hands and slowly dragged it across my skin. I dissacociated and woke up with 50 cuts on my hips, stomach and thighs.
I remember the 7 days at the psych ward that followed. The long nights crying because I was scared of a boy on the ward who told me he would get me alone and rape me.
I remember the first day I skipped lunch and realized I could lose weight that way. I lost 20 lbs in a month. 20 lbs I didn’t need to lose.
I remember the day all I ate was a peach and how proud I was.
I remember when I used the art supplies to cut myself and got kicked out of school.
I remember handfuls of laxatives even though I rarely ate.
I remember flying to Tulsa to an inpatient eating disorder program.
I remember the 3 months I stayed there, desperate to get out of there and faking my way through.
I was only 13.
I remember crying, burning, screaming, dying, dying, dying.
I remember my first love, and how he broke my heart. How I stopped eating again.
I remember the toilet became my best friend. My fingers stuffed down my throat, gagging and crying.
I remember how 100 lbs wasn’t enough. It was too fat. too big, too ugly. And it wasn’t.
I remember hitting 93 and wanting to be at 80.
I remember going back to the hospital. Starting my life over. Staying there for half a year.
I remember wanting life to go back to normal and having it be harder than ever.
I remember losing all my friends cause I got sober and they couldn’t/wouldn’t.
I remember struggling for the next breath, struggling for the next few years.
I remember falling back in love with anorexia, wishing I could just die or become someone else. Someone better. Someone prettier. Someone smarter.
I remember burning my arm so bad I had to go to the urgent care.
I remember when my heart started to beat too fast and I had to wear a heart monitor.
I was only 16.
I remember getting well.
I remember fighting with all my heart.
I remember getting into college and being terrified i would fail at recovery.
I remember slipping back and crawling forward.
I remember purging my way through my senior year of college because of a broken heart.
I remember gaining a lot of weight because recovery to me at that time meant eating junk and never exercising.
I remember getting healthier and finding a more balanced relationship with food.
I remember marveling at my body as it ran and ran and ran.
I remember feeling more centered even if I still worried and obsessed and felt big.
I remember eating food Sean made us for dinner and feeling loved.
I remember Sean’s mom dying and starving myself every day at the hospital.
I remember getting sick with Lyme and losing my appetite.
I remember the weight falling off.
I remember feeling lesser than everyone but “at least I was thin”.
I remember hitting 111 lbs and realizing I had to get real with myself.
I remember the hard dance of wanting to take care of my body and really hating the small amount of weight I’ve gained.
I remember that this is my journey and I can make it what I want.