whispering lies

smoke filling tired lungs; a dizzy rush. with the exhale it is temporarily released. unsteady hands dispose of the ash. slowly the fire burns it away. along with it, sanity.
quiet music plays in the background, ridding of the unbearable silence. but the thoughts are never silent.
the cold creeps deep underneath thin skin, and nothing seems to warm it up again; almost as if the heart is pumping cold blood throughout the veins.
this heart, pitter-pattering slowly, then quickly, then slowly again.
breathing deeply in, and then calmly out; now softly whispering a comforting lie, "i'm okay, i'm okay, everything is going to be okay."
eyelids almost too heavy to stay open, but too burdened to close.
staring at the clock, the minutes tick by, but time means nothing anymore.
eventually limbs will grow weak, muscles will relax, and dark-circled eyes will close, finally allowing rest. the question is, when? and how? and for how long?
a quiet prayer asks for forgiveness, safety, and genuine rest. sometimes it cries out for help; deliverance from all of this chaos; freedom from the grips of the chains that seem to suffocate.
tonight, the shame is too heavy to allow this desperate plea. instead, mutters one thing- "i'm sorry"
for what? everything.
because tonight forgiveness is undeserved. freedom is too far away. and even rest seems impossible.
and safety, well safety doesn't exist at all anymore.
whispering the lie again, "i'm okay... i'm okay... i really am okay."
somehow, it brings safety back to existence for just a minute or two.
the world outside is dark and silent, asleep. how this happens so easily is envied and not easily understood. if only night could come that simply on the inside...
an emptiness echoes from deep down inside. constant denial has made it easier to ignore. constant fear has made it impossible to alleviate.
vision blurs and head nods, signaling that rest may not be as impossible as once believed.
the whispering lies have to be heard one more time, "i'm okay, i'm okay, everything is going to be okay."
because the uneven rise and fall of the chest, the unsteady hands, pitter=pattering heart, and swirling brain are saying otherwise.
before the frail body can drift into a silent sleep, the first line of a childhood prayer comes to mind...
"if i should die before i wake, i pray the lord my soul to take..."

scared to death

i cannot remember a time that i have ever been as afraid as i was this past weekend. it wasn't the fear you feel when watching a scary movie, or when someone jumps out in front of you.. it wasn't even the fear that comes when you are in a car and another car ALMOST runs into yours. this fear was different. it was deep, and unfamiliar. it swallowed my insides as i tried to pretend i couldn't feel it. it wrapped itself around my throat so that i could barely speak. everything that i had always known came flooding back to me. but suddenly it was more than knowledge, it was reality.

it all started when i went to spend the night with my friend. i guess technically we could say that it all started 6 years ago when i developed my eating disorder, but i'll leave it relatively in the present. we went out on friday and bought some 'contraband', which i now know was a really bad idea. we had done this before, but never with the same results. after that we went out to a restaurant, where we both ate and took turns purging in the bathroom, stopping when a woman with her little kids came in, resuming when she left. then we just went back to her house and watched the movie, 'Girl, Interrupted' until we were too sleepy to stay awake. i slept fairly well, waking up on my own around 8:30am. I ate breakfast, purged, and then took some of the 'contraband'. for the most part, i felt okay. my eating disorder was gnawing at my conscious, telling me that i had probably gained weight, and that i should really learn to control myself more. i couldn't quiet the voice because i didn't have a scale, but it wasn't something that i couldn't handle. i reassured myself with the knowledge that it would be impossible to gain very much weight from one meal, especially considering the fact that i purged. and if i did gain anything, it's only fluid. still, that knowledge never seems to be quite enough.
regardless, i got dressed and got ready for the day. i was excited to go to the mall, even though i didn't have much money left thanks to the dinner the night before. part of me wondered why i didn't just flush the money itself down the toilet... it's the same thing, right?
on the way there we stopped to get coffee; i got a sugar-free, non-fat iced vanilla latte and a diet coke. high off of caffeine and other things, i rambled endlessly and rapidly, saying almost anything that came to mind. i pulled my journal out of my purse and shared several entries with my friend, all of which were very deep and personal. but i didn't care because i knew that she was trustworthy, and had secretly been dying to share them with someone for a really long time. not to mention, i felt like i was on top of the world. i was suddenly happier than i had been in weeks, and more confident than i had been in months. it was as if someone had taken my old mind and replaced it with this new one. this mind was better.. it was able to look in the mirror and smile at the reflection; to acknowledge the beauty of the day, despite the cold wind; to feel pride for great accomplishments; to laugh; to be free. i didn't want this feeling to ever go away.

we got to the mall around 1:00pm, and met up with another friend of ours. she is doing really well in her recovery, so we avoided talking about anything we had done previously. her mom gave her money to buy us lunch and to pay for gas; we tried to decline, but her mother wouldn't allow it. after her mom left, she wanted to go get food. we told her that we had already eaten before we came, and weren't hungry, which wasn't a lie. i wasn't a bit hungry. the very thought of eating made me feel nauseous. i was really thirsty though, so i asked for a diet coke. my mom won't buy diet soda anymore, so i was taking full advantage. after she ate we walked around and window shopped for several hours. eventually we decided that we should probably get something to eat. i had started feeling really dizzy, and decided that it probably wasn't a bad idea. we got frozen yogurt, which wasn't a big deal. before getting the yogurt we went into a dress store called "Group USA" and found dresses that we really liked and wanted to try on, but at the time the line was way too long so we decided to come back later. the smallest size the store carried was a 0, which is what my friends suggested i get, but my eating disorder was telling me that i should get AT LEAST a 2. "there is no way that your fat ass will fit into a size 0, you will be lucky to squeeze into a 2!" the whole time eating my yogurt i tried to listen to the conversation, but couldn't help thinking about the dresses. what would i do if the 0 didn't fit? would people think i was fat if i had to get a size 2 instead of the 0? would my happy-confident feeling go flying out of the window as soon as that dress zipper got stuck? the thoughts raced on and on.
eventually we finished our yogurt, which brought to my attention how abnormal and slow my eating has again become. my friends just joked about it, saying things like, "and they said i was a slow eater.." i didn't really care. eating slowly looked much better than shoveling it into my mouth, didn't it? we left the yogurt place and decided to go back to Group USA to try on the dresses. i went into the 'petite' section and found the dresses i had chosen before. one was long, light pink, and had a lot of rhinestones. it was sort of low cut, with an open back and thick rhinestone covered straps. i held it up to look at; the waist looked rather small, and i prayed that i wouldn't rip the fabric when trying to fit into it. the other was a short strapless black dress with a pink bow on the front. i imagined how awful it would make me look, how i would see my hideous reflection in full-length mirror and decide to not eat anything for the next week. however, i still wanted to try them on. because even if i did in fact have to wear a 2 and i looked hideous, my eating disorder would at least have an excuse.
we went to try the dresses on, and i was kind of upset that they wouldn't let us share a dressing room like they had in the past. i was afraid to do it alone, i wanted the support of my friends just in case things went horribly. now i'm glad they didn't. i tried the black one on first. as soon as i zipped it and turned to look into the mirror, to face what i had been dreading for the past hour and a half, the dress fell back down to my ankles. "hmm.. that is weird," i thought. i tried again; same thing. i convinced myself that it only happened because it was a strapless dress, or the size was marked wrong, or the dress itself was just made weirdly. but once i tried on the other dress and the same thing happened, the truth became more clear to me. the constant, nagging voice that had been bothering me for the past hour and a half was right- the dresses didn't fit, they were too BIG. i put my clothes back on in disbelief. how could it be true, how could i be too small for a size 0? i put the dresses back on the rack and explained to my friends that the dresses didn't fit. they asked how so, and i told them that the dresses would not stay up. "really!?" they said, and laughed. i laughed with them, but deep down inside i knew that nothing was funny.

we left Group USA and continued window shopping for about an hour before we decided to leave. it was around 4:00pm, and we had already been to every store we had wanted to go to. once we got into the car i started feeling pretty nauseous and dizzy. i took slow sips of my diet dr pepper hoping that it would help me to feel better. i breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm myself and make the spinning stop. my heart beat irregularly and strangely. i took my pulse, which was about 42 at the time. earlier that day it was 80. i knew something was really wrong, but i tried to stay calm. i figured it was probably because the only thing i had eaten without purging that day was some frozen yogurt, and because i had only been drinking diet soda and coffee. i just kept taking slow sips of my drink, breathing, and telling myself that everything was going to be okay. however, as time went on i just kept feeling worse and worse. once we dropped my friend off at her house, i told my other friend that i felt like i was about to get sick. she directed me to the house and told me to go ask to use their restroom. i immediately declined, explaining that i wasn't going to go throw up in someone elses' house. so she drove up to the end of the neighborhood by a wooded area and parked the car. she had also taken the 'contraband' and wasn't feeling very well either. as soon as i got out of the car i started throwing up. it felt awful! people always question how i can hate throwing up, but purge 10-12 times a day without an issue. honestly, i don't understand it either, but it IS different. i threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach, which didn't take very long. my head throbbed, heart pounded, and the ground spun as i slowly walked back to the car. suddenly i wasn't feeling very much on top of the world anymore. i laid my head down in my lap and tried to making the spinning stop, but it didn't. all i could say was, "oh my god.. i feel SO sick!" my friend got back in the car and started driving again. we were still about an hour from her house. i tried to talk to her to distract myself from how awful i felt, but it was impossible. again i felt like i was going to throw up, so i grabbed a plastic bag and held on to it for dear life. all that came up was disgusting yellow bile. my hands started to shake and i felt like i could barely breathe. my friend asked if she should take me to the hospital, but i told her that it was okay, i would be fine. but eventually things got worse. i got this random tingling feeling in my hands, arms and legs, almost as if they had all fallen asleep at once. i felt sick again, and grabbed the bag. nothing came up, and so i went to put the bag back down, but i couldn't. my muscles in my hands, arms, and legs were completely paralyzed. i tried to open my hand, which shot a sharp pain through my entire arm. my whole body started to shake and i slipped in and out of consciousness. my friend freaked out, saying that i needed to go to the hospital. i told her to call her parents first. as soon as they picked up the phone she burst into tears. she told them everything that was happening, where we were, and how afraid she was. they remained calm and told her to just bring me back to their house and they would make sure i was okay. i wanted to cry and scream and beg for help, but i couldn't. in my head i prayed for God to make it stop. accidentally i said aloud, "please don't let me die.. i don't really want to die, you know?" my friend panicked at that statement, and told me not to think that way.
it was impossible to not think that way. for years i had acted on my eating disorder with the knowledge of all of the possible health consequences. for years i had starved, binged, purged, over-exercised, and used drugs knowing that i could die, but never believing it. i knew i wasn't invincible, but i still didn't think it would happen to me. but in that moment it WAS happening. for the first time in my life, i was honestly scared to death. i never really wanted to die from my eating disorder, or anything else for that matter. but now it was made very clear that death was not something that was within my control. yes, the actions that led to this experience were in my control, but the consequences weren't. images flashed through my mind- baby pictures, old home videos, summers spent by the lake eating fresh watermelon, my grandma wrapping her arms around me, my puppy playing with me on my bed, and finally my reflection in the mirror. is that how this was all going to end? 16 years thrown away because of a stupid mirror? my heart ached, not because i was sick, but because of the deep emotional pain i was feeling. here i was, barely 16, about to die in my friends car on the way home from the mall. that is not how my story should end!

we got back to her house and i sat down and drank some water. about half an hour later i started feeling a little bit better and her dad took me home. once i got home my therapist told my mom she should take me to the ER, but she just made me take my potassium, drink some water, and eat some dry cheerios. my mom is convinced that i just had a stomach virus. sadly, i wish she were right.

LONG story short, i have a new perspective on things. i really want to work towards recovery this time.. i want to go into treatment, do well, come home, and CONTINUE doing well. it is obvious to me that my body can't take much more damage, and that i could drop dead at any given time, and that is very unsettling. i don't want to spend the rest of my high school years wondering if i will wake up again. recovery is scary, but death is scarier.