At first glance it might seem that I am just a happy, normal girl who loves to bake and walk her dog. However, I have suffered with an eating disorder since I was 13. It was only in May 2014 when I realised that this Voice in my head was slowly but surely trying to kill me. And so began the long, hard, and painful journey which is recovery...
I want My Cocoa Stained Apron to be a special place...a place for reflection, memories, shared stories...and of course a little bit of cocoa-staining ;) Recovery might be the hardest thing you ever choose to do in this life. But it is also the bravest and best decision you will ever make.:)
Saturday, 23 July 2016
Should I surrender myself to solitude...for at least then I would not get hurt? :'(
It hurts me. It hurts me as much as a knife would slicing across my heart. I scrutinize the messages and search for something in them which might have somehow offended or upset. There is nothing; nothing that I can see; but this does not by any means soothe the anxiety crashing through my head. Then I consider as to whether it is the frequency or persistence of my messages which have somehow annoyed or irritated. I am so angry with myself that I want to pound my head with my own hands. I am so, so distraught that I wish I could just throw away the laptop and the phone and disappear from the world that I know, forever. But where would I go? Would anyone actually notice if I just disappeared? Probably not; a cruel voice taunts at the back of my head. tears crack my eyes and spill in rivulets down my face.
The loneliness, I find, is as hard and as difficult as recovery. I am stronger now then I ever was, stronger than ever against ED. But I suppose I foolishly allowed myself to entertain the notion that, as I made progress with my recovery and the battle against the Voice, that my life would change, too, for the better; that things would be drastically and wonderfully different and changed. but this has not been the case. I am still as lonely and as isolated as I was before. I write countless of messages in the hope that today, tomorrow, the next day, I will get to see those who I love with every piece of my heart. But I guess people are busy and that they have their own friends. Their lives have moved on: but for me, everything remains the same.
I feel such an..an oddity. I often wonder, how many texts and messages an average twenty two year old girl receives in a day. dozens upon dozens? A constant deluge of texts and messages and snapchats? this is not the case for me: My phone usually sits, dejected and forgotten about, in my room every day. I check facebook all the time, hoping, praying, pleading that there will be something from someone I wrote to. there is rarely ever anything. The wound is deepening in my heart.
And so today I wondered...maybe I just need, to stop. To stop being the one trying to arrange things, to stop being the one who always texts first. Because no answers just means more pain and despair for me. And I do not want to infect others with my depression; I would rather die then hurt their feelings, or impinge negatively upon them in the slightest or most minor of ways.
Should I surrender myself to solitude....
Is this the only way I can keep myself, relatively safe? Safe from the pain and the loneliness and the knowing; the knowing that people's lives have moved on, without me?
So I bury my head in my Morokia notes, and walk out alone along the boglands with Benny. He stops to snuffle the ground and I pause to place a kiss upon his head. I take comfort in the softness of his fur. For animals, at least, are not like humans: they, unlike people, remain unchanged.