sometimes i get glimpses of it
waiting on the bus stop, before i go to sleep at night, in the middle of the day
the wait a minute can it be? yep this feels like normalcy
but then i wake up and it's hot, so hot
writing unrhyming poetry in my head that has no meaning
maybe these short glimpses are as good as it gets
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things are simple on paper. black and white. but not really.
the clock ticking. the hum of the air conditioner when i'm in bed at night. why can't i fall asleep? this is driving me crazy. people ask me if i'm scared being in the house alone. yes. for reasons other than someone coming in and killing me. of myself. of the porcelain, the cold bathroom floor, the shaking, the sweating, the crying, the ohmygodisweari'mNEVERdoingthisagain but it happens again and again. crying on my knees and sobbing "i'm sorry!" sorry for what? for being weak? for giving in? who the hell am i talking to? going to sleep at night, being scared my heart will explode. i took ipecac again. didn't karen carpenter die from that? yeah, but she was underweight. you don't have to worry about that. it helps you puke. just take it. i took it a couple of days ago. i don't want to throw up anymore. i'm tired. i want to sleep. what if i choke on my vomit when i'm sleeping? you won't. try some more. i try. nothing comes up. go back to bed. i was safe in bed in the first place. why did i get up? i couldn't sleep. "the grocery store is still open for an hour and a half" he says. i listen. why? i don't know. i go. why? i don't know. i joke, smile, laugh with the cashier. she has no idea what i'm about to go home and do. do people know when they look at me? can they tell? why can't i just let it go? why can't i shut him out? i'm recovered, right? i'm in therapy. i'm in outpatient. i have a meal plan. do you follow it? yes. well, sometimes. do binges fit into the meal plan? no. but i get rid of them, so they don't count. you skip things, don't you? yes. why? i don't want to gain weight. you have. you're ugly. you're fat. there's nothing special about you.
remember before? you were so thin. but i was so sad. so angry. so alone. at least you were thin. you were pretty. people liked you. boys liked you. they would smile at you when you walked by. remember high school? you were fat then. no one liked you. but i had friends. yeah, but you were the ugly one. in summer you got so skinny. so pretty. girls asked you how you stayed so thin. they were jealous. go to the gym, you'd say. every day. such willpower! they all said. they didn't know. the hunger pains. the complete emptiness. the power. the loss of that power. i can't walk. no energy. get help, they said. i can't. there's nothing wrong. and even if there is, i'm too tired. can't walk across campus. fighting the loneliness. i don't need anyone. i have ed. together we're unstoppable. i don't need food, nourishment, anything, or anyone. i have him. then stuffing the feelings down. food, so much food. my stomach hurts. it's not used to this. have to get rid of it. won't someone hear? no one's here. just do it. so i do. someone walks in. i don't even muffle the sound. who is it? can they recognize me? do they know my shoes? did i get rid of it all? i feel happy. then binge. but why? because. get rid of it. people know. i get caught. we know, they say. we're worried.
worried?
Of course they’re worried. They care. Im scared. I take the ipecac again. Only a little comes up, and I think I’m done. Im too tired to care that I only got a little out. I go to bed. But a couple hours later, the ipecac kicks in, and I run to the bathroom. With no fingers needed, everything comes up. But not everything, because more comes up. How is that possible? Go back to bed. Few hours later, run to the bathroom again, and even more comes up. I blow my nose. There’s blood on the Kleenex. I kneel on the ground, my head pressed against the cold counter. Im shaking. So weak I can’t move. Breathing heavy. Im scared. I look in the mirror. Does my stomach look bigger? Still shaking. Next morning. Wake up. Make coffee. Did last night happen? I see the evidence on the kitchen table, on the dirty towel in the bathroom, and on the toilet because the vomiting was so intense it got everywhere. Still feel nauseous. Throat hurts. Sad. Wondering if I can stop it next time. Want my mom. Remember we used to laugh together, go to bookstores, walks in Greenfield park. Think of the calendar in my room where I was marking my progress, the 8 yellow squares with smiley faces, symbolizing the days I went without ed. I can’t color in a square for today.
Maybe tomorrow.
