For nearly 8 years now I've I mourned the loss of my ability/inclination to write about absolutely everything... since I was first introduced to the written word as a child, it was always my favorite form of expression... all at once, it was also magical portal of sorts, to information and ideas that my own brain may have never discovered or formed on its own... Until my third or fourth (I lose count) failed attempt at treatment for my eating disorder back in 2005, I was not only an avid, prolific, (and admittedly pretentious) writer/journalist I also devoured books with an appetite so voracious that my anorexic hunger at its peak(s) pales in comparison... Looking back at it, until several months ago, I recall frequently shaking my head in defeat. "I used to be able to write," I would say, as if speaking of a lost appendage... My exaggerated perception of my own hopelessness had me quite convinced that my (also exaggerated) "insanity" had rendered me incapable of utilizing my talents, brain, etc. Had robbed me of my attention span... Blah, blah. Whah, whah. Poor useless me. And so forth...
Since I began journaling again with relative consistency back in December, I've often considered reentering the world of blogging. I had, at one point, experienced what could be called a "following" online, chronicling my daily struggle for the past 18 years with Purging Type Anorexia, back in the heyday of the Pro-Eating Disorder movement... Looking back, I'm fairly certain that I acquired most of my readers due to the "Train-Wreck Phenomenon" (or, if you like, "The Sara-McLaughlin-Abused-Puppy Phenomenon"). I'm sure that many continued to frequent my website because they found it to be so sad or disturbing, they couldn't look away... I experience it every time I revisit the posts myself...
But in recent months, as I've embarked on the uncharted territory of (still VERY EARLY) "recovery", I am vaguely aware of a new sort of clarity and resolve. I apparently only manipulated myself into seeing profound revelations in my previous work. I used to find the chaos that I observed in my thoughts, actions, and emotions, to be the fascinating stuff that comprised "art". Although I am, by no means, to be considered "composed" in the present, I'm coming to find the truth that I stumble upon daily, in the process of pursuing "sanity" equally as compelling as the train-wreck-PETA-commercial shit... So here I am again... blogging it up...
Something that arose in a joint therapy session with my mother and boyfriend 2 days ago, also, inspired me to initiate an investigation of sorts into the origin and circumstances surrounding my eating disorder's development at the age of 9. I decided after a horribly uncomfortable session Monday, in which my therapist prodded me to disclose my "early childhood trauma" to those present, that at 28 years old, attempting to recreate the inner workings of my young mind was simply not a possible (or advisable) thing to undertake on my own. I was once a mental health professional, I hold a Bachelors degree in Psychology, and have spent much of my adult life in psychiatric hospitals and treatment centers, both as an employee and a patient. I'm all too aware of the dangers of false memories, rewriting personal history, and self-deceit. So I made a decision: If I'm to go poking around in my past (again) for an activating event, or hunt for the root of my eating disorder, I'm sure as fuck not going to trust the way my obsessed (and often malnourished) brain remembered shit going down...
Then, the brilliant thought occurred to me to sleuth it out... like a researcher or investigative journalist. Organize my questions, interview those who raised me, those who grew up alongside of me, scour old journals, etc., and piece the puzzle together. Much better than fabricating details or going on with out any details at all... Especially at points where my memory gets foggy...
I guess the idea is ask around enough, record the results, and hopefully I will emerge with a coherent past! It's funny and sad all at once, how strongly I have come to distrust my perception over the years. You may wonder, "Why trust anyone else's?" My hope is to integrate what I feel and remember to be true into whatever others may recall. My hope is that this will help me to base my recovery on facts and tear down the lies that have been the cornerstone of my thoughts for far too long...
In some recent journal entries (which I intend to publish, at least in part, over the next few days) I've been fighting with myself over what to do to stop my behaviors now that some aspects of my eating disorder, namely purging, are attempting to creep back into my routine... I've been riding this "I'm in recovery" high horse, and yet the second I see an opportunity to purge (and, unfortunately, I see opportunities EVERYWHERE) I've done it before I even realize it... The cycle is once again perpetuating itself without my express permission and I could not be more furious! And while I have resolved over and over again during the past few months, to stop for good, I'm beginning to think that I'm prematurely behaving like my eating disorder is already in the past, when in fact, I never banished it properly. It has been right here with me all of this time. And I have been just conveniently overlooking the truth: That nearly everything consumed in the past month has been coming right back up... and I've been looking on like a dazed spectator, assuring myself that its just a "slip"... An ongoing, continuous, slip that just happens to occur several times a day... I am hoping that, as I backtrack through my most recent insights and reorganize them for publication... that perhaps I'll find some actual courage and inspiration there. And stop wearing "recovery" as an accessory... and turn it into a lifestyle...Thanks for reading.
Love and Neurosis,
Little One
Since I began journaling again with relative consistency back in December, I've often considered reentering the world of blogging. I had, at one point, experienced what could be called a "following" online, chronicling my daily struggle for the past 18 years with Purging Type Anorexia, back in the heyday of the Pro-Eating Disorder movement... Looking back, I'm fairly certain that I acquired most of my readers due to the "Train-Wreck Phenomenon" (or, if you like, "The Sara-McLaughlin-Abused-Puppy Phenomenon"). I'm sure that many continued to frequent my website because they found it to be so sad or disturbing, they couldn't look away... I experience it every time I revisit the posts myself...
But in recent months, as I've embarked on the uncharted territory of (still VERY EARLY) "recovery", I am vaguely aware of a new sort of clarity and resolve. I apparently only manipulated myself into seeing profound revelations in my previous work. I used to find the chaos that I observed in my thoughts, actions, and emotions, to be the fascinating stuff that comprised "art". Although I am, by no means, to be considered "composed" in the present, I'm coming to find the truth that I stumble upon daily, in the process of pursuing "sanity" equally as compelling as the train-wreck-PETA-commercial shit... So here I am again... blogging it up...
Something that arose in a joint therapy session with my mother and boyfriend 2 days ago, also, inspired me to initiate an investigation of sorts into the origin and circumstances surrounding my eating disorder's development at the age of 9. I decided after a horribly uncomfortable session Monday, in which my therapist prodded me to disclose my "early childhood trauma" to those present, that at 28 years old, attempting to recreate the inner workings of my young mind was simply not a possible (or advisable) thing to undertake on my own. I was once a mental health professional, I hold a Bachelors degree in Psychology, and have spent much of my adult life in psychiatric hospitals and treatment centers, both as an employee and a patient. I'm all too aware of the dangers of false memories, rewriting personal history, and self-deceit. So I made a decision: If I'm to go poking around in my past (again) for an activating event, or hunt for the root of my eating disorder, I'm sure as fuck not going to trust the way my obsessed (and often malnourished) brain remembered shit going down...
Then, the brilliant thought occurred to me to sleuth it out... like a researcher or investigative journalist. Organize my questions, interview those who raised me, those who grew up alongside of me, scour old journals, etc., and piece the puzzle together. Much better than fabricating details or going on with out any details at all... Especially at points where my memory gets foggy...
I guess the idea is ask around enough, record the results, and hopefully I will emerge with a coherent past! It's funny and sad all at once, how strongly I have come to distrust my perception over the years. You may wonder, "Why trust anyone else's?" My hope is to integrate what I feel and remember to be true into whatever others may recall. My hope is that this will help me to base my recovery on facts and tear down the lies that have been the cornerstone of my thoughts for far too long...
In some recent journal entries (which I intend to publish, at least in part, over the next few days) I've been fighting with myself over what to do to stop my behaviors now that some aspects of my eating disorder, namely purging, are attempting to creep back into my routine... I've been riding this "I'm in recovery" high horse, and yet the second I see an opportunity to purge (and, unfortunately, I see opportunities EVERYWHERE) I've done it before I even realize it... The cycle is once again perpetuating itself without my express permission and I could not be more furious! And while I have resolved over and over again during the past few months, to stop for good, I'm beginning to think that I'm prematurely behaving like my eating disorder is already in the past, when in fact, I never banished it properly. It has been right here with me all of this time. And I have been just conveniently overlooking the truth: That nearly everything consumed in the past month has been coming right back up... and I've been looking on like a dazed spectator, assuring myself that its just a "slip"... An ongoing, continuous, slip that just happens to occur several times a day... I am hoping that, as I backtrack through my most recent insights and reorganize them for publication... that perhaps I'll find some actual courage and inspiration there. And stop wearing "recovery" as an accessory... and turn it into a lifestyle...Thanks for reading.
Love and Neurosis,
Little One
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