I honestly wish I could come to this with a message of success, with the hopeful and happy news that i'm doing much better, that I feel hopeful, that I have been steadily gaining weight. I am humiliated by the truth and i'm sure people must be sick of my moaning. I am sick of my moaning. I want recovery desperately. I want to be happy. I want to be able to eat and not feel guilt. I want to have freedom. I want my brain to be working to its full capacity. I want to have energy. So why the hell can't I just gain weight? Why is the thought of getting on the scales and seeing the numbers go up so abhorrent that I am doing anything I can to prevent it? It doesn't make sense. It's a total head fuck and it is driving me mad. I've been thinking about it heavily over the past few days and i've come to realise something. I am scared, terrified at the prospect of letting go of my 'crutch.' It has become part of my identity, and having lost another part of my identity recently, it all seems too much to lose this as well now. I know I have to, because this is not a good part of my identity, in fact, it is a debilitating and destructive facet, yet, it reflects how I feel. My emaciated body communicates how I am feeling inside. I feel fragile, constantly on the brink of tears. I am terrified, I have no idea where i'm going, if i'm going to achieve anything, if I will get a good degree, if I will get a job, I don't know any of it. I feel vulnerable. I feel disgusting. I feel stupid. I feel I am of little worth. I feel I deserve punishment. My figure reflects all of this. My body screams "I am not coping", and for that reason, I am scared to get bigger. I am scared everyone around me will think "Oh, Maya is fine now, look, she's big again", when actually, I think I will probably feel worse than ever, because I will have lost my security blanket, the knowledge that I am good at one thing...losing weight. Without starvation I will have to be an adult, make decisions. I will probably go back to looking in a mirror and criticising my body for being too big. Look at the fat grasping my hips, the way my thighs curve, no comforting large gap. It will all disgust me. And I am scared I will hate myself even more. Want to lose weight desperately, just like I used to. Anorexia did not just spring up on me. I craved weight loss for years. I wanted to be thin. Every time things were tough and I was struggling, I would set myself a new goal, a lower weight, a new diet, an exercise regime. I just wasn't very good at it. Then some how, something clicked and I became a pro and at first people were telling me how good I looked. And I felt good. I knew I could lose more though and I would be the best and I would feel better. There was always more to lose though. Always the niggling voice telling me that if I skipped lunch, I would feel better, if I pushed myself that extra mile I would feel better, that being thin would give me everything. That people would love me, want to be my friend, I would achieve at school, I would be superwoman...if I was thin. It is devastating to look back over my diaries from childhood, as young as 10/11 I was writing about my weight, drawing pictures of my 'gross' body. I would write about something tough that had happened in the day, something that had made me sad and my solution to this was "LOSE WEIGHT MAYA". Always. This makes me wonder...was I always 'anorexic', just not thin? Impossible, you can't be fat and anorexic? But if you hold the belief that the answer to your problems is weight loss, you strive to be thinner, you obsess over it, what is the difference cognitively? I don't know. I am so scared of going back to that, having all the thoughts, feelings, but being fat. I am scared I will never stop feeling like 'the big one', inferior, less attractive, intelligent, controlled, kind or loveable. Even now, in hospital, I feel like 'the big one'. I feel huge compared to everyone else here. I worry they look at me and wonder why I am here. Discuss me and sneer. I shouldn't care, but I do. My brain is a big scribble. So messed up. I just want to be ok. I don't want to go through the pain of it all though. The struggle of gaining weight. The feelings that will come with it, but with no promise at the end that I will be ok. That I won't always hate myself. I will have lost the comfort of sharp edges and jutting hip bones and had them replaced with soft flesh. At least with anorexia I can blame any rejection on my illness. I is not me they left, it is the illness. What about when it's gone and they are rejecting the fat girl? What if I don't achieve perfect marks? What if I do look chubby in that dress? What if I don't get invited to that party? What if I upset someone? What if people don't want to befriend me....what if I cannot blame any of it on my illness? I look at myself and sometimes I see a thin person, some days I can see how drawn and weak I look. Sometimes, all I see are the bits that I would like to be smaller.
I wish they could cut out a little part of my brain labelled 'anorexia' and insert 'normal cognitive behaviour'. I wish someone could tell me I will be ok and happy, and for it to be the truth. This illness doesn't make me happy, but what if I feel just as awful, but I am big as well? Then no one will help me. I am scared.