child of God, wife, mother, recovering anorexic who longs to see the beauty in herself that she sees in the world around her

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I exist

I do something ridiculous.  I walk sideways down the stairs at work when I wear heels.  When I walk sideways or even on my toes, my shoes can be kept from making that way-too-loud-for-such-a-quiet-space sound.  But what I realize even more is that the sound means I exist.  Even when I walk I am trying to exist as little as possible. 

I want to live an adventure but I don't want to exist.  Doesn't make sense?  Yeah, I know, too much about living with an eating disorder doesn't make sense. 

I am doing ok.  Not spectacular but not bottoming out either.  And yet I still cringe at the mere fact that I exist.  My body existing in numbers pisses me off.  The fact that I need a body pisses me off.  I want to live but I hate existing.  I hate that my shoes make noise on the stairs, it is just more proof that I cannot disappear, that I take up space.  I want to fade into the background somewhere and not be noticable.

How can I feel good about life and yet terrible about living in the same sentence?  How can I be content with my life and hate that my body takes up space at the same moment?  How can I feel loved and lonely simultaneously? 

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