Banana And A Cheese Stick

Today's post is brought to you by a banana and a cheese stick.
It will not string...it is just cheese.
This is my night snack-which I still see as pointless. But I'm eating it.

Today was hard. Like every day.
Yes I was happy yesterday but well that was then.
Overall I'm less depressed but I'm in a mood right now.

I really want to stress that I may be hopeful one hour and then the next I'm not. If I write a happy post that does not mean everything is going to be fine from there on out. That does not mean I am curred. That just means that there in that moment I was happy.

I am scared that you all will read that I'm happy or feeling better and then another day I will not feel that way and you will be confused. You will ask questions. You will not understand.

Most of my life I have not understood myself or been understood by others.
And that brings me back to the dark, empty place that I felt when I was 14 that made me turn to anorexia.

But if I am not ok, if I am not happy, if I am not positive that does not make me bad. It is not bad to feel. Emotions are not to be judged they just are. Whatever I am feeling I am feeling for a reason, it is genuine it is true, it is real.

Moving on.

Today was a hard day. For whatever fucking reason they have had us eat more meat on the bone or that has visible fat in it than ever. I mean I had flank steak tonight (where I had to chew swallow or spit out the fat), steak tacos last night (which were dank and I picked them), fried chicken breast that had veins, fat, other shit that made me gag, and ribs for lunch.

Again I get ashamed because I do not think you will understand why this isn't the greatest thing ever. I am not used to seeing food like this without all the fat out veins out etc. so it's hard.

But today was much harder for one of my peers.

I looked across the table at "Lillian" and saw her small structure enveloped by her oversized sweater.

I saw her pick up each piece, bite, chew, swallow and go onto the next one. No being aware she was doing so.

Her bright blue eyes fixated on her plate. A tear halfway down her cheek. The energy coming from her was strong, something was wrong, something was going on in her head, she was not with us.

She finished her meal without a word or a glance from her setting.

We had to check in with the therapists about the meal and she finally looks at us and I'm panged with hurt. I can see it in her, I feel for her, my stomach churns and tears come to my eyes.

She just says "it's amazing how some food can trigger memories of trauma."

Then I got mad. So fucking mad. I hate ED. I hate what it has made us. I hate how it has belittled our lives. I hate that we have to go to treatment. I hate that people helped put us here. I hate how this was not in my control. I hate that this had to happen to us.

Lillian is one of the kindest souls I have ever met. She's genuine. She has the warmest heart. She is a good person who deserves good things and for over 30 years she has had to battle this disease that's almost killed her. It is not fair.

I didn't deserve this to happen. It's not fair that it has happened. That my life for so long has been put on hold, held back, interrupted by this. And I am so fucking proud that all of us are there and are fighting.

I don't know if the significance of today or how strongly I feel about this is coming through but I hope it is.

We have had the odds against us and we are fighting a disease that is created by and in our minds...it's twisted and it's deadly. And my heart breaks for every girl at that table because I know that hurt, that compulsion, that confusion, that hate and I am just fucking pissed that we have it and we have to deal with it.

But more so I guess I am proud I am so fucking proud of all of us for being there and for fighting and for doing something that's this intrusive, invasive and scary. And we do it every day, every hour and every minute.