Or: watching the most ungraceful part of myself stumble through situations as if she’s blind-folded and drunk.
The constant anxieties I’ve already been facing on a daily basis ramp up, increasing their volume just enough so that the struggle is noticeably worse. I’m not eating less now, only beating myself up more for what I do consume.
Reader Question: How do I navigate writing about my personal life without it affecting my personal life?
Revealing what I have on this site has been INCREDIBLY rewarding—which wasn’t even a consideration when I began. I think that was actually great because it made my voice authentic—I wasn’t trying to make anybody else feel anything.
Food is our first experience of love and comfort—quite literally, as we immediately bond with our mothers via breastfeeding or the like. I was once fully capable of feeding myself in a ‘normal’ manner, but then somewhere along the way I started to see myself as less deserving of that nourishment—which is to say, less deserving of love.
After reading a poorly articulated article on Refinery 29 titled “Why I’ll Never Regret My Nose Job,” I wanted to counter it by sharing why I’m so glad I never went under the knife.
Our society is seriously ignorant about what’s healthy and what’s not. Very few people understand what an eating disorder entails, and where the disorders often stem from.