Taylor Swift Comfort Imagines

To Wrap Your Noose Around

TW: Eating Disorder

Taylor's adoptive child

ED's feel like someone has a noose around you and is controlling your every move. Also, my ED ruined what was supposed to be a fun time in my life, so I connect that to the line: "taking my time, taking my time, because you took everything from me,". 

In this essay I will...

Just kidding. Here's the story: 

I feel myself being overcome by hunger, craving every food in sight. Every food in the house sounds appealing, and Taylor is at the studio right now, so I don't have to be embarrassed about how much I eat. I open the fridge and reheat some leftover fries, make myself a bowl with rice, lentils, hummus, tomatoes, and falafel, and have a little dessert. As I eat, I realize how much I missed eating, especially things like fries. I finished all of my fries and some of the other stuff. Don't do it. Don't drink juice. Disobeying the voice, I poured myself a glass of juice. 

In an attempt to block out my hunger, I decide to work on some assignments. I start by taking notes from a module before we go over it in class this week, which I will transform into a Quizlet. I'm not as smart as the other people at my school, so I have to work ahead. I take pride into putting my best effort in to my work: My hard work is possibly the only good trait I have. No matter what, I am compared to Taylor: not as hardworking, pretty, or talented. The confidence I had a few seconds ago is crushed like a soda can that has just been ran over by a car. Now I feel inadequate, disappointing, and embarrassing to be around.  Taylor deserves better.  As I'm studying psychology vocabulary, thoughts of food slip in, until I'm at a point where I'm typing foods I want into Quizlet instead of answering the question. It's only happened twice; It's probably just a careless mistake. Maybe, just maybe,  once I do a round with a perfect score, I'd let myself eat something. Something small. My frustration grows as I keep getting answers wrong. All I can imagine is the disappointed faces of my mom and my teachers. Behind them, my peers wear judgmental smirks and exchange glances of disbelief as they laugh at my stupidity. They don't think I'm funny. They think I'm a joke. So why should I take anything I feel seriously, including hunger? I'm stupid, right? 

The hunger still won't go away, and it's not like I'll ever be skinny anyways. I already messed up today. I open a bag of chips and just start eating. I find a cake in the fridge and eat that too. By the time I'm done, I am surrounded by containers, wrappers, and food packaging. Did I really eat all of that? Oh, shit. That was a cake for one of Taylor's friends. And I'm going to gain weight. I know what I have to do. 

I upstairs to my room with a connection shower. I try to make myself sick, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Defeated, I lay down on my bed, vowing to never do that again. Now I have to be extra restrictive and exercise more. I just hope that this doesn't become a serious thing. 

"Y/n, where are you?" I hear my mom's voice, echoing from somewhere in the house. I feel so ashamed of what I just did. I don't want to explain to her why I left a mess in the dining room and ate her friend's cake. She's going to be so mad. But, if I hide in the upstairs, she'll think something is wrong. She's gotten really close to uncovering my mental health issues. She's so gentle about it, so understanding. And I just shut her out. Maybe she'll even decide that I'm too much to handle and send me to therapy. Or even the orphanage. 

"Hey, y/n, are you in here?" I hear her voice from outside the bathroom. 

"Yeah, I just wanted to lie down to do some more low-key studying," I say. Taylor is really strict about me studying at a table so it feels more serious, but she doesn't mind if it's studying for something I already made a Quizlet for in my bed. My eating disorder has made me a skilled liar: part of me is proud, another part is guilty, and the smallest part of me want to collapse in someone's arms and ask for help. To loosen the grip it has on me. 

"Baby, can you please open the door?" she asks softly. 

I open the door and walk over to her attempting to hold back tears. I can hear my breath trembling as my lip quivers. My throat swells with sadness as my vision streaks with tears. I might as well clean up my mess. "Sweetie, did you binge?" I hear Taylor ask. For some reason, the question fuels me with rage. First of all, it's obvious. To come to that conclusion you just have to look at the table. Secondly, that means I failed. Even though Taylor said it in the most gentle way humanly possible, I feel attacked. 

"Well look at the table downstairs, isn't it obvious," I sob. I expect to be lectured about being sassy, but no. Taylor pulls me into a tight hug. Her presence is so warm and comforting. I try to pull out of it, knowing that I don't deserve comfort. Anyone who comforts you ends up just like everyone else: yelling, belittling, and leaving you to deal with your emotions. 

"Sweetie, it's ok to need comfort and love," Taylor says gently, pulling me in tighter. It's like she's trying to hug some love into me, just so I can feel loved. I wish someone had loved me before, so I wasn't so hesitant about it, so uncertain. I feel so bad for snapping at her when she's just trying to help. I mean, I ate her friend's cake. The least I could do is be nice to her. "I'm sorry," I choke out 

"Sweetie it's,"

"No it's not I'm sorry for eating Gigi's cake and I'm sorry for raving you pantry and I'm sorry for the mess," I sob loudly, my body heaving as Taylor rubs soft circles on my back, remaining calm yet concerned.

"It's ok sweetheart, I'm not mad at all, I know you can't control it. We just have to get you some help to find other ways to cope with things, ok? You can always come to me, no matter what time it is or what I'm doing. I will make time for you and you are my priority. Please know that I love you so very much and will do anything to help you with this," 

I sob into her shoulder, taking in the words I wish I had heard before. This makes me cry even harder and I can feel Taylor guiding us to my bed, pulling me into her lap and letting my rest my head on her chest, squeezing my tightly as she rocked us back and forth. "You're Ok honey, this is a safe space for you. You can cry or scream or whatever you need. I can tell you've been bottling your emotions up," she coos sympathetically, rubbing my back. She keeps holding me and telling me sweet nothings until I'm calmer. 

"Baby, I need you to be honest with me. I'm not going to get mad at you, I just have to know for your safety. Did you purge?" She asks gently, cupping my face in her hands. 

"No, but I tried to. I just couldn't." I reply, looking away ashamed. 

"Lovebug, did you know that restriction and exercise are also forms of purging?"

I stay silent. Why can't I just be a normal person.

"How long have you been dealing with these thoughts? If you are comfortable sharing now," 

"Since I was ten. I had a foster home that didn't feed me when I made a mistake, so I just did that to myself ever since," I reply, scared that Taylor might do that one day, too.

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry that happened. Nobody deserves to be treated like that. Living here, you will never have food taken away as a punishment. Not even junk food, because food has no morals attached to it, and being deprived of it is abuse, not punishment. I think it's better if we have a conversation about what happened, what to do better next time, and some reasonable consequences if you end up making a bad decision." Taylor says, kissing my forehead. 

"Now, let's go clean up the kitchen. After that, would you like me to help you study?" Taylor asks. I nod. 

After Taylor had helped me study and quizzed me, she offered that we watch a movie. "You're working so hard, honey, how about we take a break and watch a movie?" she asked. I nod, sitting on the couch, a little bit away from her. She opens her arms, gesturing for me to come closer to her. I guess we're pretty close after today's conversation. She wraps her arms around me and lets me pick a movie. I decided on Lemonade Mouth, feeling extra nostalgic today. 

This is by far the most loved and safe I have felt with an adoptive family.