Voices in my head, painful memories rushing past like a car speeding too close to you. Tears seeping through my veins, an unconscious torrent of thoughts whipping me, leaving lacerations on my my heart and soul. That familiar Cris-crossed pattern.
Numbers and I do not go together well...period. Yesterday, after a trip to the doctor to try to solve the mystery of why I have been feeling so depressed and lethargic these past several weeks, the nurse told me my weight. After telling her I needed to do a blind weigh in, she uttered that NUMBER.
And my head was off with the races.
Telling me so many awful things...scream,starve, cut, run.
ED,
I can see you there in the corner, curled up in a bawl, hiding your face to disguise the sick twinkle in your bloodshot eyes, a smirk across your horrid face. You are whispering to yourself, wringing your hands, and giggling uncontrollably. Just waiting for me to cave, ready to pounce, awaiting my demise. The devil who prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Your tactics are old, your moves predictable. Your callous comments now just make me sick. You think you still have power over me, and the truth is...your words will always hide out in the crevices of my brain, just waiting to materialize. But now I have the power. I have regained the strength you tore from out of my trembling, blue hands. Just because I found out my weight doesn't mean I will give up...You have controlled me for too long...I have fought too hard. Get your hands off of me...allow my bruises to heal. My festering wounds to scab over. I will allow myself to grow stronger. Fear me.
For here is my rebuttal.
You have shrieked at me for so long. I am so tired of your threats, your constant nagging worry. Your incessant demands and groans when I put anything remotely resembling food into my body. The way you pretend to love me and then stab me in the back. The horrible names you call me. The abuse. The physical, mental, emotional torture. You have poisoned my world, tainted everything with your jaded irony. You dropped me in the vat of self hatred, drenching me with my own salty tears, and wrung me dry, hanging me up on the close line of victims, displaying our sick bodies, scars, and pained faces for all the world to see. I am cutting myself free from the noose you have fastened around my neck. Learning to run again on wobbling legs. Opening my mouth and wailing my truth for the very first time, like a newly born infant. Fear me. This is my rebuttal.
I am not a problem that needs to be solved...I hold the answer inside, waiting fervently for me to recognize it.
