The Anorexia Prison

I have been in recovery from an eating disorder for many years now, the process has been a roller coaster ride, and at times, I forget what the madness really feels like. That is, until I have an experience like I had tonight, which brings me back into the anorexia prison I spent so much of my adolescence in. The real madness of an eating disorder is different from the everyday anxiety and uneasiness I feel about my body. The madness of an eating disorder starts deep within, it peameates my whole body, moving from cell to cell. It starts as fear, but quickly and uncontrollably turns into panic. I feel my hands shaking. My mind is racing, thoughts moving quickly trying to find the solution. How can I fix this?! How can I make this all better?! Then I begin to feel helpless and hopeless, which only furthers my fear and creates increasing panic. My whole world feels shallow and empty, I feel like a shell. I have nothing anymore, as my life is completely out of my control. I feel disgusted with my body, myself, my mind. I am too stupid to fix the problem, even dumber for not seeing this coming, not being strong enough to do what I needed to in the first place. My hopelessness turns to rage, its directed at anyone and anything around me. I throw stuff, yell, punch the wall, anything to release this horrible feeling of doom deep within. I eagerly seek exercise as a resolution to my problem. I work out hard, intensely, praying for results. Hoping that the sweat will bring the scale numbers back to a range where I can breathe again. I take frequent breaks to get on and off the scale, I anticipate the change, but dread the outcome. The number is stagnant. I continue to exercise, more, harder, longer….I feel dead inside, helpless again. This is a pathetic and futile effort. I quit and collapse in a pile of despair. The panic has subsided, but the disgust for myself remains. I shower off the sweat and resolve to be better tomorrow.