Epiphany

Yesterday I had an epiphany, kind of. I realized, for the first time, that one of the reasons my mental state is so perpetually screwed up is because I'm stuck in this strange cycle where I think in terms of limitations. Why the heck is that? I am so steadfastly rigid so much of the time. Why? Why am I paralyzed by the prospect of possibility? All my life, I've managed to remain painfully and illogically convinced that there is a "right" choice in any given situation. Guilt ensues no matter what I decide, because I ALWAYS figure out a way to convince myself that I've done the wrong thing, regardless of the situation. How the hell did this kind of black/white mentality develop? Nature? Nurture? What?

This way of thinking places a significant damper on various aspects of my life, as one might suspect. Instead of "dwelling in possibility," as Ms Emily Dickinson would suggest, I'm practically phobic of it. Perhaps the most notable way in which this mindset affects my daily life, however, is in my relationship with food. I've had "food issues" for . . . well, for a long time. I think most women have food issues of one kind or another, at least at some point. I remember having food-guilt issues as far back as I can recall--I was a chubby kid, and I hated it. I flirted with anorexia when I was . . . eleven? twelve? It was only a flirtation though, nothing serious. But enough to get me over my chubby-stage into unnecessary stick-stage. Set menstruation back a couple of years, anyway, much to my dismay. I wanted to grow up faster than my mind/body processes would allow, given my treatment of it. The food issues evolved and metamorphosed over time, but they never went away. In fact, they've always been an embarrassingly pervasive part of my life. It's sick and disturbing to me that so much of my energy has gone into dealing with food issues. This doesn't justify anything, but it's less about food and more about control. What exactly my motives are and why they exist with such tenacity is still something of a mystery to me. But it's not entirely about food. It's not entirely about health. It's not entirely about thinness. It's partly about denial and restriction and purity and self-inflicted suffering and lots of other things that I've yet to unearth. Yesterday, my limitations-epiphany was the final straw atop the rickety mound of several experiences lately that have . . . shaken me awake, so to speak. I am not in a very good place. I am very, very thin. I don't always see that. I never intended to lose as much weight as I have lost in recent months. I'm still terrified to gain weight. But I am not healthy or strong and there are so many things I want to be able to do . . . I have to be more fortified in order to do them. 5'7, 100 pounds isn't going to cut it. I don't want to get another kidney infection. I don't want to fight for consciousness during class. I want to be present in the moment. I'm scared to lose, I'm scared to gain, I'm scared to eat, I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared, and it doesn't make sense, but none of this makes sense. I'm a smart girl. I'm a fairly pretty girl. I have a hell of a lot going for me. And yet I always manage to get stuck. It's partly obsessive-compulsiveness, partly anorexic-tendencies, partly orthorexia, partly badly-handled control issues, and a massive amount of fear. Fear of what? Possibilities? Failure? Part of me almost wants to just . . . disappear . . . in an act of erasure . . . total erasure of this blasphemous, pitiful, frustrating self. Another part of me still wants to be perfect. Clearly, I don't know what the hell I want. But it's important for me to get unstuck. It has taken me a long time to be able to admit that I have an eating disorder. Her name is Lilith, by the way. She's that harsh, critical, rigidly discipline-oriented voice, that currently-overwhelming part of my psyche who is trying to protect me from . . . something . . . but, in the process, she's killing me instead. I love her and I hate her. I need her, I think. She could be useful, if she used her "power" for good instead of this nonsense. I don't know what to do with her. I do know, however, that it's time to get unstuck, if possible. No, I take back the "if possible" because it IS possible. It isn't going to be easy or fun and I'm quite fucking terrified. But there's a bunch of shit out there that's bigger and more important than this and it's always been important to me to get out there and do something meaningful and the first step is getting the fuck out of my crazy freakin' Lilith-run, nazi-istic head.

. . . now or never . . .