A Bone to Pick

Love and hate

For myself, I knew I had to learn to trust and love myself again. The past few years were a battle between self-love and self-hate, with hate winning out. I hated my face, my body, everything so worked hard to try and change myself. Become skinnier. Start running so I could claim that title, along with the characteristics of determination and health. I was so uncomfortable in my own skin, and wanted desperately to change who I am. With all these, I was someone new, someone "better". People would love this new me. Only this new me. Old me was ugly, fat, unlovable - unwarranted as the thought may be - and so I needed to make drastic changes. These toxic thoughts poisoned me and drove me to the extremes. Having had these thoughts ruminating in me for years, it's hard to break free from. I still think I am undeserving of love, especially from my parents. I still think that I'm a disappointment and failure. I still want to be someone else. Anyone else is better than me. No matter what my parents say, or how ridiculous it sounds, my mind just keeps insisting :

"You're an unlovable person - look how much pain you bring to everyone you love. Stay away, you monster. You will never be loved."

Here's to relearning how to love myself for who I am again. 

I also knew that I had to slowly open up my heart again to trusting others. The absolute despair and loneliness I felt in my first year abroad alone scared me - I wasn't sure how to cope with being alone so suddenly. I felt abandoned by everyone around me. Instead of opening up and talking it out, I shut down and built a wall around my feelings so that I could put on a brave front and just get through each day. I felt so alone because I thought no one else felt the same homesickness as I did, the same amount of pain and longing. No one knew except Phoebe, for which again, I am absolutely grateful - however, I still carry the scars of fear, of being ditched and left alone. I saw how torn my family was when they realised what I've become, and knew that the best way to protect them from any further heartbreak was to keep everything to myself. If I could shield them simply by withdrawing myself, then I would. Also, I saw how quick to judgement many are - especially my brother -  when I tried explaining my mental illness and self-struggle. The lack of empathy and complete disregard for my mental or emotional state pushed me to stop sharing and start bottling up. Any time I felt overwhelmed I would just tell myself "Suck it up, don't tell anyone. You cannot tell anyone". I've guarded my thoughts and feelings for so long that it's become second nature. These scars are slow healing, and my heart is still too wary of trusting others, the memories of pain still fresh. I hope that eventually I'll be able to confide in others, that I will find people strong enough to share some of my emotional baggage without judgement. 

Here's to breaking down the walls around my heart.

This whole process is still ongoing as I fight for my recovery, both mentally and physically. I'm still trying to find my way out through this maze of anorexia and orthorexia, hopefully with a positive ending. I would really like to fulfill my mom's vision of me being able to eat ice cream again without guilt, to exercise without needing to burn X amount of calories, to basically be free of my fears. To unshackle myself from my own inner prison. Little steps do help to make the progress towards recovery seem more feasible. Just an extra spoonful of rice; more slow, relaxed exercise; learning to be more open with my feelings. 

Here's to being free again.