While this was written awhile ago, February (which is National Eating Disorder Awareness month) seems the appropriate time to post it…
It’s been awhile but I cried hard yesterday. Hard and ugly at the bottom of the shower- my safe place, my old solo silent refuge.
Wishing I had something to throw up, to literally purge my body of this feeling. To find some control in a beast that lies dormant, never leaves.
But it was 6am and a blessing I’d only had coffee and an angel held my dripping, heaving body from falling down that slippery slope again.
Some beasts die hard.
And so I sat and cried.
I sat heaped and felt the heat and gazed at pictures through steamy glass. At peaceful smiling faces, a façade I’m living in.
And wondered if others’ photographs sometimes felt as fake.
The irony of a perfect moment captured on film and sent into the world as the face of this “perfect life.”
Smiling faces, embraced, leaning into one another, trying and enjoying, but hungry for so much more.
So hungry I want to throw up.
Maybe you’ve never experienced that dichotomy, I’m sure most reading this haven’t. …the opposite action to fill up a soul thirsting.
A struggle as stupid as it is real.
And there’s not a happy ending to this short blog, just some shower confessions. Some raw ponderings and a thankful heart for just coffee before 6 am.
And four little arms and sticky hands to keep perspective. Too keep grounded.
To keep trying despite the hunger.
And a God bigger than this beast.