I feel like a superhero - that super sucks at being normal.
But I guess that's why I'm super?
What I mean is that I'm totes living a double life.
I forgot it was fall until I saw decorations in a Starbucks. This usually is my favorite time of the year and my room would be full of pumpkin spice candles, warmly hued decorations and my closet full of new snuggly clothes.
Instead my shorts are scattered all over my floor, I can't find my lighter for my non existent candles and my decorations look very similar to unread mail.
I just popped on a normal outfit - zebra shorts, boots and a sequin top - to run errands in my neighborhood. Who would have known that walking through the smell of Dick's, bumping into drag queens and a marching band would be a breath of fresh air? I got my fix of reality when browsing the aisles of QFC under florescent lights with people that are complete strangers.
I stopped by my gym and said hi to the front desk guy. Had small talk with other members. It's crazy to me that no one knows I'm in treatment 11 hours a day, that 2 hours ago I was sitting in a confined facility eating dinner while being watched by diet techs and therapists. I was facing my deadly disease in a circle on comfy couches under the comfort of my snuggy while holding back tears. The woman who I talked about the gym's tanning with has no idea.
Which got me thinking, what is she hiding? What is everyone else going through? You really can't judge a book by its cover.
One thing that hit me is that when you see me you don't see my disorder, you see ... ME. When I see others I don't see their worst trait, I don't see their flaws, shortcomings and imperfections...I just see them. I also can't see their successes and pride...I still just see them.
Two days ago I went to an AA meeting. I am still not sure what my relationship with booze is. So better safe than sorry.
I walked in sat down and felt that something was off-the men were just too attractive.
As soon as we began to read the 12 steps and I heard "Oh yea gurl" it hit me.
I'm in a gay meeting.
Luckily I was wearing a rainbow headband, sweatshirt and hadn't shaved my legs in 3 weeks (yes I'm disgusting I know, I'm also single) so maybe I passed. NOT that you can judge a book my it's cover-I'm just trying to be funny.
Anyway, so after the happiest, silliest intro to a meeting I've ever had the speaker for the night started talking.
He through me for a loop. He was all slicked up and had piercings, gelled hair, Nikes on really clean cut. But as I looked at him and listened to his story, his appearance didn't all fit the man he was describing. He had committed many crimes, which he was so good at he got landed in prison and basically hit rock bottom. He ended his story about how we was going home to his family and he could barely get the words out because his emotions had taken over.
I was right there with him.
If I would have seen him at QFC I probably would have given him a stanky look for his bleached Eminem hair and forgotten about him two seconds later. And yet here in this meeting he told me things I needed to hear like:
"I'm a liar, a cheater and a terrible person when I'm using."
"It works until it doesn't."
"It's not wrong to love yourself. I was surprised when people liked me for being me."
"Change is hard."
The meeting ended with a bubbly sounding serenity prayer and I ran out of there with a fat smile.
Anyway, what I'm getting at is that people will have their thoughts about you. You can't control them or what they say to you and what it really comes down to how you see yourself and how you act.
All my life, since I was 12 and the girls started being mean to me and I couldn't figure out why, I've been trying to please others. I lost myself long ago and didn't have any fucking clue as to who I was when I really started looking. I still don't know who I am and that is the scariest thing. I will be the first to admit I'm petrified of the unknown and not having control. This is why I do what I do with food and exercise, I want to know the outcome I want to feel secure in something. Without the food and my habits and my skin and bones I don't know who I am. Also, I have to try to live up to higher expectations, of the girl I see sneak through my ED now and that's scary.
Basically I'm just a wuss. However, I've started to find my voice and that voice is beginning to rival ED. Currently though it's a constant battle, like watching Real Housewives in my head. Just exhausting, pointless and over dramatic-and I don't even have to pay for cable.
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