This is one of the posts I’ve been dreading to write. What is my relationship to my eating disorder? Well, it’s part of me; it’s not a separate identity. But it does have its own thoughts and opinions. But that doesn’t mean you can do all that shit with separating them out and writing conversations. Okay, you can. And I’ve done it plenty of times, and it’s helped plenty of times. So what point am I trying to make?
I guess it’s okay for me to separate, but if other people impose, it’s patronising.
So, my relationship with my ED. We’re enmeshed; we don’t know where each other begins and ends. I’ve been to this place in Cambodia called Ta Prohm, and the trees have taken over the old temples.
I know these look separable, but if you took away the building the tree would die, and if you took the tree away then the building would crumble away. That’s us.
I’m quite protective. My ED is mine. I hate the phrase ‘Eating disorders happen to families, not individuals.’ No. It’s mine. And the whole stupid thing about how your mother was mothered by her mother comes out in you? I hate it. The mother bit is rubbish. I worry the first bit is true. Not completely, but a little, and then the guilt consumes me.
I don’t want to give up my ED. I don’t know life without it. I was a child when I didn’t have it. Who would I be as an adult? And I’ve had to do something with my life, but what the hell would I do? Everyone in my family has pretty much every base covered so I’d just have to be an inferior version of one of them. I don’t want that.
I’m scared to live without it. Would I turn into someone I didn’t like? What would I be expected to do? My best friend and my worst enemy.