It seems that all I have been able to write are poems lately. I'm not sure what to say otherwise. I'm in a grey place, where I can almost see light, but there is fear that the darkness will take over. Depression sneaks up, and my words are my voice when I cannot speak out loud. I distance myself because I don't want to scare anyone. Anger has been brewing, seemingly over little things, which I blow out of proportion. That has always been what I'm afraid of. The rage overwhelms me, and what goes through my mind is wanting to hurt myself because I feel that I'm the cause of so much pain. My therapist wanted me to write out the things that make me angry. What I thought of first is that it makes me angry when I feel I'm being controlled. I fight to hold on to myself, and to my autonomy. I feel that I'm not always allowed to be angry, and maybe because it surprises people when it happens, no one quite knows how to react. I feel like my anger isn't always seen as being justifiable, and I'm the one in the wrong. Maybe that is only how I perceive it, but they are my feelings, so I'm allowed to have them.
Food has been an issue because I've been eating more, and I know that I'm the one who lets myself be controlled by the eating disorder. I hold on to it, romanticizing it, and there is such a desire to go back to what feels safe. The increase in my intake causes fear and body image issues, and even though my clothes fit the same, I still have a distorted view of my body. I'm surprised by my hunger, and after a time of supressing it, I know my body tries to make up for it. Even at my sickest, I would suddenly be ravenous, and there were times that I would eat, because I couldn't help but listen to what my body so desperately needed. I try to believe that I was happy then, but the only thing that elated me was seeing the scale go down. The obsession took over every other feeling. Yoga saves me. Part of it is the feeling of acceptance from the friends that I've made, but the other part is the escape that I get from the thoughts of doubt and failure. It is a place where I try so hard, knowing that the poses will never be perfect, and that is okay. I embrace the journey, and it is where I can let go of the fear, if only for that hour and a half. If I could only accept .
This has been long, but it feels good to try to make sense of my thoughts. I hope that it makes sense to everyone else, and that maybe others can relate to what I say here. It is one of the most important reasons that I write.
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