Moral of the Story is...

Right now

I'm sitting on the couch in my living room

Me, Robert and Katie

In that order

on the couch.

It is rare that a person have so many powerful conversations in one day.

I feel so lucky to be alive, that I should have a day like today, and the conversations.

Even though my mom would disagree that it is luck at all, but an accomplishment.

Instead, I guess I am proud to be alive. To have had this day and the conversations.

Tonight

Talked to Katie about so many things

talked through tears and screaming and whispers and belly laughs

To a stranger man on the bus about mental health, sexual violence and what I wanted to do with my life

and then we shook hands and said goodbye.

He didn't make advances, or invade my personal space or follow me home.

He did tell me that I would be great at doing what I want to do with my life.

To Sabra about what it is that I've realized I want to do with my life.

And friendship,

and where Sushiland was because we couldn't find it.

To Ellana, Sara and Ryah

about my blog

my children's book

my writing

my vision

and relationships.

This afternoon

The beast has not been himself lately,

the medication I am taking makes sure of that.

He is more than two-faced, my beast.       

He has all of the faces of all those that have doubted me

and my face is no exception.

The other day he came to me as myself when I was a little girl.

She was crying, little me, about the size of her thighs, her arms and her stomach.

She was pounding on me with her little fists, raging

because it is my fault, you see. I have let her be fat

her entire life.

I cannot stop eating. There is a void somewhere inside me

and I fill it hastily, desperately with food.

The beast has not been like himself lately.

He has been distant and left me with myself.

Now I really have no one else to blame. Everything I do now, I am responsible for.

A couple of days ago I looked down at my stomach in the shower and fought a strong urge to cut it off.

Cut it out of me.

I don’t need to be thin, because there are so many ways to be beautiful.

I only wish I could be one of those ways.

Today I dressed, but there was nothing to wear that would hide the fat.

Hide the pain, the void and the harm I’ve done to myself by eating without restraint.

I have always found it hard to be naked.

Bare and vulnerable.

These days I refuse to be naked. I disgust myself.

I just want to chop, chop, chop the ugly away.

Thinking about it now, I feel sick to my stomach.

Where is my self-control? Why am I so weak?

Little me screams that she doesn’t know.

 
Last Night
I feel like the enemy in hostile territory.
Holed up in my room, with only my beast for company.
I'm out of control, explosive, irrational and unreasonable.

All I want is space. All I can do is be responsible for myself.
I'm not crazy, but I'm only one that thinks so.

The beast doesn't mind the isolation, desertion.
He grows in the silence and the shadows, confident he will have me all to himself.

Moral of the story
I am so excited about this journey I've begun. I have waited my whole life for this.
I am going to therapy
I am on medication
I am going to pass my classes
I'm writing this blog and finding ways to reach more people
I think I want to go into social work and help mentally-ill/homeless/youth population
I am letting people embrace me

This is not it, this is not the end. My beast is mine and I am his. But maybe one day we can walk side by side, hand in hand.