This plane is freezing. Really freezing. When did planes get so cold?? It physically hurts me. I’ve been cold like this for months. Cold to the bone. I’m wearing Jeff’s coat over 2 sweatshirts over my T-shirt. I have a blanket wrapped around my legs and socks on my hands. I must look quite the fashion plate.
It doesn’t help much anyway. My skin is blue. I hope no one thinks I’m really this size. Can they tell I’m thin under all this?? What a stupid worry to have right now. I make myself crazy with thoughts like that. They flood every waking moment.
Arizona. The word pulses through me and with every heartbeat it’s a promise. Arizona. Arizona. It hasn’t even been 48 hours since I whispered my tentative concession to treatment and here I sit. How did you get here you stupid, careless woman? It’s gotten out of hand before but never like this.
Still..this morning? Daily mirror scrutiny reflected a body that still clung stubbornly to fat. I know it’s there even if no one else will admit to seeing it. I can pull flesh away from my wrist and my hips..this makes poor Jeff nearly apoplectic. It’s skin! You can’t get rid of skin! So says he. I bet I could. Guess now I’ll never know. I can’t decide if this is freeing or stifling.
I weighed _lbs this morning. I failed. My most recent goal was 75. At the rate I’m losing, all I needed was a few more weeks. A month at the absolute most. I’m in size 00 jeans as it is. Who knew such a size existed? Well. Parents of..maybe 10 year old’s. Nothing makes sense any more. Up is down and black is white and the moon is made of green cheese.
The face in the mirror is ghoulish and slightly yellow and virtually unrecognizable and the people who aren’t coming up to me and saying “You’ve lost weight, you look great’, are making Darfur and Karen Carpenter references. Seriously people? At the very least can we update our anoretics to this century?
And the compliments? Clearly I was practically of Biggest Loser proportions before ( thanks for the heads up). And while the props should validate at least some of the hell I’m going through, I’m going through HELL. What I want to say is, “Thanks for noticing. I ate nothing but sugar-free jello and apples for most of the week, exercised until I fainted, and then threw up the piece of bread I ‘treated’ myself to because I couldn’t handle the guilt. I have a hard time breathing, I’m so hungry that if I had any tears inside me I’d cry myself to sleep at night, and everyone I love is furious at me. Oh, but you like that I’m losing weight and soon I’ll weigh less than my 5th grader. THANK you! THANK YOU for the encouragement!!” Right. No food has also made me testy.
I’ve got this other notebook with me that I know I’ll have to pitch before we land. But it’s the book that became my bible as of late. Numbers. The game. Beat the scale. How far can I push my body before it pushes back..and I’m looking at these numbers. The list of my weights over the past few months. The goals I’ve hit that haven’t satisfied this…. this what? Self imposed penance through torture? It’s alarming only in the fact that I don’t find it alarming at all. I hope that I can reread this in 6 months, a year, and weep for the woman who wrote this. That I won’t be her anymore. That I’ll be able to weep period. That I might feel again.
Heartache, anger, fear, joy,…without needing the bite of a razor to know whether or not I’m even still alive.
I’m so, so tired. Breathing is an effort. I know I’m in for the fight of my life. I don’t feel at all up to the task. God, please. I need Your grace. Your mercy, yet again. Will You carry me? There’s simply no hope for me otherwise. Those doctors said I would probably die. I didn’t care then, but I do now. Well. How about that? I do now. I didn’t even realize.
I need today to be the day. May…whatever it is. 23rd? The day I decided to NOT freaking quit. To NOT be a statistic. To NOT roll over and play dead . Anorexia will not be what takes me down.
My family may have gotten short-changed being stuck with me but they love me and I have an obligation to be here for them. Whole. So I will. I will remember. How bad this is. How much it hurts. How much it steals from you. I will remember.
It’ll only be a good story if I live.
I’m the only one who can write the ending.