Freedom and a Side of Coffee


I’m free.

And it terrifies me.


“Your eating disorder will get loud.” they said.

“What are you going to do to not give in?” they asked.

I’ll be fine, I said.

It’s not going to get loud.  I have it





I might have been wrong.

They definitely weren’t wrong.

Also, fuck them.

And their knowingness,

their smarts,

their ability to  predict with accuracy my thought process.


I couldn’t leave last friday when I was suppose to because after talking with finance I didn’t eat snack and managed only 40% of my lunch.  As a result, I had to stay til afternoon snack was over and I didn’t get home til 830 or 9pm.  I am miserable already.  I am continually bombarded with societal, cultural should and should nots.  All I wanted to do was go for a walk with someone the other night and the whole time it was, “You should be walking in the gutter, You should walk into the traffic, You should speed up, You shouldn’t be walking at night, You shouldn’t walk down alleys that your house isn’t on”.

Last night at dinner it was, “You should watch your mouth.  The people beside us didn’t come here to hear those words.”


The car ride yesterday was tense because an unused bottle of lax was found in my console and that prompted the whole “You’re never going to change.  This is hopeless. Why do I even bother with you?” thought process which was then spewed on me in the form of hard-nosed, catastrophizing, black-and-white, end-of-the-line-thoughts which hurt me (if there was sharing at all) and when I tried to respond adequately I was the one invalidating.  I felt guilty for wanting to go outside alone last night and though I was told it was fine the slamming of the hotel room door after I left was acknowledgment enough that it wasn’t.

I feel trapped.  Alone.  Lost.  Angry at myself for my inability to act normal.  Angry at myself for my inability to stand up for myself and say, “That’s fine if you don’t want to join me; that’s fine if you want to act like that, I’m still going to take care of myself and in this moment it means being alone to decompress.”

It was fine in Denver.  There was anonymity there.  Those who knew me didn’t know me before, nor did they seem to care about my past.  I could go outside somewhere and be totally alone surrounded by people.  There were no expectations about what I should and should not do.  I just did me and that was enough.  I want it to be like that at home.  I want to be like that forever.

I HATE fucking societal standards and cultural preferences that want to dictate to me how to behave and want to dictate to others how to judge my behavior.

I KNOW who I am (thanks EDCare).  I KNOW what I like and how I want to be.  And once again, just as it was when I was a child, I am trying to be myself and am being told to stop.

How do I overcome that?  How do I stand up to those fucking norms without hurting the ones I love, the ones who hold those rules so close (too close?) to their hearts?

Right now I am not.  I am silencing myself and I am unable to stand up to my ED because of it.  It has to come out somewhere and self harm is it.  Last night the urge to self harm as the highest it has been in over a month.  The urge run was just as high.  So I took the stairs. 24 flights in total.  It’s no big deal.  I am fine.

This morning I didn’t eat breakfast.  No one reminded me or made me and even though I knew I should I said fuck it.  I had coffee when I got to the convention, with cream for sustenance.  I was fine having that for snack and lunch too.  Except I was made to eat lunch.  It was BBQ.  I was a shit show.  A private shit show though so…. I managed to not use obvious behaviors around those at the table.

Now I’m waiting for a friend and I’m in a shit headspace and it is making me anxious.  I need to not be a shit show.  I need to be normal.  I need to pretend I have my shit together for the next 10-11 hours.. Even though this friend knows I’m a shit show, I HAVE TO REMAIN CALM; PUT TOGETHER.  Like I just had freedom with a side of coffee.

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