081822

[prismaticbleed]

I'm in a really weird phase of my life right now.

What kickstarted it was the whole "family outing" vibe of July and August-- suddenly, there was the opportunity to do things with people but the caveat was that I had to eat food in order TO do those things.
Isn't that horrible? The hell remains.

But it's always the same motivation, too. I want to do what makes them happy.
Outside Mass, serving hoagies afterwards? Now I have to buy hoagies, to fit in.
Church bus trip, stopping at a diner? Now I have to buy diner food, to fit in.
Mom going on vacation, eating on the road? Now I have to buy sandwiches, to fit in.
Dad having a cookout, making burgers? Now I have to buy burgers, to fit in.
Brother stressed and eating nothing but fast food? Now I have to buy some too, to show solidarity and that I love him.
That's the ultimate motivation for it all. I eat with you. I am with you. I care about you.

It's the Eucharistic heart-- gratitude for your life, our life, together, in love. I want to share life with you.

Except I have an eating disorder.
Except I typically can't eat those foods without suffering great pain and illness.
Except I keep trying anyway because I want so badly to be normal, like them.

…

I'm so afraid.
I'm trying to eat an avocado today, but I guess it sets off my oral allergies because my lips and tongue feel funny. I immediately assume "anaphylaxis" and start throwing up and gulping Benadryl. The amount of fear I live in on a daily basis now is unreal. It chokes me, literally and figuratively.

The scale read 88.6 this morning. I want it to drop lower. It's horrible.

I know I need to gain weight or I'll die. But there's something about that lowering number, something symbolic or theoretical or metaphorical, who knows, that makes me want it nevertheless. I want to see 87, 86, 85. I'm terrified of seeing it drop, like an elevator plummeting down an empty shaft, headed for certain doom. But I'm buying tickets to the same rides at the fairground. Do you get the idea? I don't want to starve myself to death but I keep playing the game anyway. And it's not even about food, in the end. In the end it's all raw bleeding concept.
I want to lose weight because, to me, "weight" has lost its "weight," pun intended. Whereas in the Bible, to be "heavy" can be translated as "glorious," as something "weighty" with purpose and power, as opposed to something "light" being flimsy and shallow and insincere and worthless… in my life, as it stands, "heavy" means "bloated with sin." How ironic, to a bulimic binge-eater like me. But this body is thin, and that's the whole point. Thin body = no room for outside things = pure and good and holy.

But THERE'S the thing. I've been pointing it out for years: at the aching heart of this eating disorder is this bizarre fear of parasitism, of invasion, of things where they don't belong. That same fear motivates my trypophobia. It's the disgusted dread of seeing a grub in an apple, of an egg in a hive, of the pus in a sore. It's evil. It's parasitic worms eating eyes and tongues and taking their place. It makes me shake and vomit and want to literally die from existential horror.
It's why I'm afraid of keeping food down.

Mind you, the fear of eating is hypersexualized at its root and we all know that, and that does tie into the purging of course.

The past couple months, however, have added a sharp allergy-death panic patina to the whole thing, mostly thanks to my realizing I'm very allergic to hempseed, as well as again testing positive for tree nuts & peanuts, and having the dairy-reaction hell scare on Easter, which was legitimately traumatic and which I will never forgive myself for without God's intervention, but that's for another day.

Today, I need to go eat (it's 5pm and I still have to vacuum and pray), but I don't want to, but if I don't I will never be able to truly serve God in my fullest capacity. I think? I fear?

The Divine Mercy bus trip is on Monday but since last time I went on that and fasted I nearly passed out during the Chaplet and took it as an omen from God for my condemnation, I need to eat this time but I am so afraid to. I am so afraid to eat.
I don't want to. Fasting is getting so much easier, so much more beautiful, except when my body rebels, which it has been doing the past two days. Headaches and distraction and muscle tics and weakness and dizzy fatigue. I'm afraid of dying from that. I want to die a holy death. God have mercy on my wretched soul I'm afraid I will never be a saint at this point because my capacity for the heroic virtue I WANT and YEARN to do has been severely hampered by this eating disorder. But I cannot give up. I need to eat. But I feel eating is evil. But there's the Eucharist.

…

God, I need help. Please, help me, in the way you see proper, without killing me in the process, oh God please don't murder me with food or the lack thereof. Please heal my body and mind so I can serve You TRULY and FULLY with the rest of my life.

I love You. You know I do. Please, help me. Amen.