....At least I'm pretty sure I am.
I've got a lot going on
Both in the physical and mental sense.
4 weeks ago we moved into this new house
And it still doesn't feel like home.
There's still boxes left packed
And the walls stay empty for the most part.
The weekdays blend into each other,
And the weekends go too fast.
This new town is small,
So small, there isn't even a coffee shop.
I've got a choice of 2 parks for the kids,
One infested with wasps,
The other bores the kids quickly.
I miss my best friend,
I miss having coffee shops and thrift stores.
But on the other hand;
I've got to look at the upside.
We're not homeless,
We're not starving.
We're healthy for the most part,
And we're all together (well kinda.)
I think mentally,
Is where I'm struggling.
I made a goal at the beginning of the year;
To get to 110lbs.
For the last 10 months,
I fluctuate between 101 and 104.
I can't get higher than 104,
Even if it sticks for a few days,
I'll eventually go back down.
And this triggers Ana.
She tells me that at least I was successful at losing,
But I'm a failure at gaining.
She tries to call me back to her,
While I'm laying in bed at night,
Trying to shut her up.
I still have this constant migraine,
Since May first.
My doctor insisted it was poor nutrition (fuck you bitch)
So she wouldn't leave me alone until I see a dietitian.
So I went, sitting in this room with all these food posters on the wall.
It was all too familiar and I hated it.
I knew that this wasn't the cause for the never ending pounding in my head.
The dietitian dragged on about fats, proteins, exchanges,
Everything that I heard while I was sick.
But I'm not sick anymore.
I am far off from my lowest weight of 78.
So I haven't been back to the doctor since.
I am trying to embrace my body,
Let go of the idea of perfection.
I'm lifting weights, doing yoga, hooping,
I want to love myself.
I want to fully accept my body.
The stretchmarks that represent my children.
The scars on my face from years of picking.
The scars on my arms and legs,
From the hundreds of times with my razor.
These boobs that I can not stand,
That were caused by Ana.
I'm flawed; that I've accepted.
What I haven't accepted is how angry I am.
I'm angry for letting my eating disorders have control for so long.
That I let my eating disorders trump my relationships.
That I lost so much of my life to calories,
To the scale.
Countless hours spent in therapist offices,
Or over the toilet.
That no matter how much weight I lost,
It was never enough.
I always had an excuse to want to lose more.
Now, I'm riding the line of a healthy BMI.
I know that my husband loves me,
At 78lbs or 145; that never changed.
I know that I am stronger than I was 2.5 years ago.
I know that I'll be even stronger in another 2.5 years.
I know that every day I have to make a conscious effort,
To fight for my kids, because they are my life.
I can never give up,
Even on the days where my anxiety and depression is paralyzing.
I am a fighter, I always have been, and I will always continue to be.
