Hey,
Been a bit since I've done a weekly goal. Ok, so I've been doing some thinking and I had an idea. This blog uses a lot of "I" pronouns, however I (ugh, see, there it is again) wanted to broaden it up a little because there is more to the universe than me. This week, I'm opening up the panel to you readers out there who are comfortable with sharing your stories. I really want to hear from you guys! If you wish to participate in this weekly challenge, please email your stories to [email protected] (yay, emails!). Anyone can participate who wishes to can join in be it moms, dads, recoverers, family, or friends of those who have/are suffering/recovering from an eating disorder. If more than five stories are emailed I'm going to space them out by posting five stories per day after Friday. If there is less, all will most likely be posted at once assuming they aren't too long. Please send submissions no later than Thursday. You can use a cool code name if that would make you feel more comfortable sharing. Emailed stories may be posted on this here blog. One final note, post will remain largely unedited by me however I do request you do not use specific numbers to refer to weight. Profanity is subject to censorship. Thank you for your understanding. Once again hope to hear from you soon. If you have any questions, feel free to email me and I will try to get back to you in a timely fashion. Please share this post with anyone you feel would like to tell their story too. -Soliuna
1 Comment
Hi Nerds,
Sorry this post is a lot overdue, some weird stuff went down and I'm lame and procrastinated on this post. In terms of how this (actually last) week's challenge went, it was actually a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. The first couple of days were without incident, but on Friday I had a melt down. It went something like this: Huh, there's no one in the bathroom right now. Translation: Perfect time to check on the obvious food baby brewing under my shirt. And the maniacal gremlin in my brain cackles as she shoves the people pleaser (mentioned last post) through the floor. The core checking ritual is in session. It starts with the mirror, I turn sideways, look at my stomach for a good few minutes. Then I move, taking a few steps forward to see if that changes the size of the spare tire under my skin. It's growing before my eyes. It doesn't. I step back approximately five feet. I'm going to explode. Nope. Darn. Still the same. Next comes the pinching. I move back to my original spot. Three feet from insanity, two feet from reality. I watch my roving hands. They manipulate their way across my abdomen, pausing every couple of seconds; my eyes are broken. Each time it changes; each time it's the same. Cue the emo teen music. My fingers absentmindedly twist at my torso. Click-clack. Someone's coming. Tick-tock. Time to go. I pull my shirt down and try to walk away from me, a task tougher than anticipated. That night I did something uncharacteristic of me; I (gasp!) thought. Eww. What am I trying to accomplish here? Since I did not know the answer to this question immediately I did what my instincts dictated as the best course of action, staring blankly at the wall. So productive. Thought process in motion, I came to the conclusion that I'm not sure anymore. I really want to have a witty explanation I could pull out of my hat, but the truth is I don't know. And that's ok. This challenge has made me realize that the recovery scene is all about those "why's" and finding out what they mean. Understanding the motivating factors behind this behavior is going to take a bit longer than one (ok, two) week(s). If it means one day I'll be healthy enough to win the war between my eyes and behind my skull, I'll take it. Until next time, Soliuna Hi there Nerds,
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Nerds in the NeighborhoodSoliuna
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