Two mentors have forced me, thankfully, to reconsider what the fuck I’m doing (or, really, not doing enough of).
I’m not at all in-tune with what my gut actually wants and craves, whether that be to indulge in something sweet or something more complex.
The belly wakes up first: it needs the most protecting. After all, this is where a kind of magic happens.
The film fails to bring on any overwhelming emotions, I think because it fails to truly connect viewers with each character if they haven’t also read the book. Despite this, there’s a worthy message at the end.
Self-criticism is common to us all, and if we’re constantly comparing ourselves to dubiously ‘perfect’ humans we’re only fueling that fire.
Re-assessing is something we ALL should do, eating disorder/addiction or not. It seems trite and corny but if we do it honestly, I don’t think it is.
Like a curious child who’s just discovered the versatility of wondering “Why?” the shadows will keep creeping in until, eventually, you can’t avoid them.
Traveling with an eating disorder—whether you’re in the thick of it, in recovery, or consider yourself recovered—is a loaded move. While non-ED-afflicted humans rejoice in the opportunity to let loose, indulge endlessly, and take a break from the treadmill, I find myself panicking for weeks (if not months) beforehand.
“Eye-fucking on the subway is strongly encouraged: today, tomorrow, and always.” And more wise words from me to myself, after the jump…