I am trying to figure out why I indulge in actions that disgust me, but I do anyway. Sure – most of them are inherent behaviours. But I’m not as silly as I look – I do have the capacity to learn and change. My mental health stuff has become appallingly resistant to change. There is nothing we do that is without benefit to us. Nothing. Even all those things we do “for other people”, it turns out, there is also something in it for us.
Anyone who has never experienced mental health issues, probably finds this to be a staggering question – why wouldn’t you want to recover?! Who would want to stay “sick”? Well – I am struggling to heal – and I don’t want to stay sick – but I also can’t seem to recover. Don’t worry – it makes no sense to me either!
There’s a war in my head. Some days it gets so loud in there, it gives me a headache. A real one.
The voice nattering incessantly in my ear is not a healthy voice. It’s a familiar one. It feels like a safe one. But that voice is an expert manipulator, liar and thief.
There’s another little voice in the dark – the voice of reason and wisdom, sense and sensibility – but that voice is weak and timid. It has never learned to stand up to the manipulator.
And if as a society, we nurtured those in the earlier stages of illness, perhaps those “high functioning” addicts and depressives, those people with hidden and invisible mental illness, would feel okay about acknowledging their issues much earlier on. Because the earlier the problem is tackled, the better the outcome.
For many decades, I wondered why on earth anybody would, or could, run a blade across their unscarred skin, and inflict pain, misery and permanent damage. Just why would somebody do that?! Then my life fell apart – and I learned why.
Today was a pretty good day all things considered. But tomorrow, I’ll try to eat nothing at all. Because this attempt to eat like a “normal” person, is a miserable failure.
Suicide: It’s a dirty word… People are afraid of it. They don’t want to hear it. Or talk about it. We judge it – we judge ourselves for contemplating it, we judge others for talking about it. And those that go through with it? They receive the most judgement of all. Those most in need of our love and compassion, kindness and understanding – are the ones most likely to be criticised, judged and condemned.
I have been bulimic, on and off, for 30 years – although I developed anorexic behaviours during a breakdown earlier this year, and was (ludicrously) thrilled to bits. But my disordered eating behaviours began way, way earlier than my 20s. In fact, I have no recollection – whatsoever – of having healthy eating thoughts and behaviours, or positive body image and self-esteem. I’m (supposed to be) all grown up now – so casting blame is pointless – I am old enough to take responsibility for my beliefs and actions. But life is rarely simple. Developing my eating disorder was like a jigsaw – a whole gamut of pieces came together to form disordered thinking and maladaptive behaviours. This is how my personal puzzle evolved.
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