no one can help if you choose to stay stuck, and frankly, honesty is in short supply these days. not because we’re bad, or ridiculous, but because we’ve forgotten to trust - trust ourselves. that’s the key, the missing ingredient, to everything. how to make impossible, possible.

when I was lost in the chaos of an eating disorder, miserable and depressed, it wasn’t because I hadn’t tried. I’d tried dozens of things, but nothing worked. not even god. god didn’t help at all. of course, I didn’t think god was on my side. I believed god was maybe on your side, but not on my side. that’s how deep a wound can cut, and how deep the lies we tell ourselves, day after day.

doubled up with cold, in a dreary, woolen coat i’d wound around me twice, i sat numbly in front of the dietician, in a psych ward, surrounded by the drug infested playground that was Langley Porter hospital. I knew I was there because I was useful to them, for a new drug trial they wanted, which I wanted no part of- but they’d no use for that part of the equation.

when she somberly explained why I wasn’t losing more weight, that my metabolism had pretty much shut down, to save me from myself, that my constant state of freezing was due to the same biological caretaker that took such good care of my body, putting energy in the few places I needed, so I wouldn’t die, that my hair falling out and everything else going wrong, that wasn’t giving me the waif like figure I thought I wanted, well, she said, that energy may be time limited.

i heard her drone on, about vitamins and nutrients, and all at once, I had a deafening realization. the state i’d put myself in had nothing to do with thin, thinnest, or prettiest. it had been my steady, desperate way I’d hoped someone might notice me. see me. really see me, and hold me, really hold me, and love me. but the thinner I got, or the fatter, the people around me kept disappearing. I was too much. too much. then I felt something, like a shockwave in my heart. the hidden hope i’d be rescued, I knew, would never happen. even if it had, I’m not sure I could’ve let anyone in. my capacity for worth was so tiny at this point, I may have fought it like a tiger.

this realization, that endless suffering and isolation would cause someone to rescue me, and no one had, was the moment I knew for certain none of this was working - it would never give me what I truly wanted.

it was then, I was done.