Letter to Brian: March 21, 2024
Dear Brian,
I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve taken the time to write to you. I think of doing it so often, but I struggle so much with the follow through… as seems to be my modus operandi in general. I feel like there’s so much to catch you up on but each time I sit down to write, I become overwhelmed with the flurry of thoughts that I don’t know where to even begin so I just quit. I’ve decided to just write about what’s on my mind and try not to overthink things too much. And, as usual, I’m going to overshare. Why? Because there’s power in sharing one’s story… it needs to be shared out in the open because in solitude it’s far more dangerous to me. And furthermore… who’s to say there isn’t someone else out there struggling with the very same thing who needs to know that they aren’t alone? So, here goes…
For starters, it’s been almost a year since I’ve self harmed. I’m pretty proud of that, really… it was happening pretty frequently for so long but I’ve been able to avoid those urges for nearly a year now and it has not been easy to do. But, in the interest of full disclosure, the self harm just took on a new form. For the last year, my predominantly dormant eating disorder has been rearing its ugly head and came back with an overwhelming vengeance. April of 2023 found me dealing with a painful experience of loss that triggered my abandonment issues and it caused me to feel immensely helpless and lonely. As a result, I developed an uncontrollable urge to control every last crumb that goes into my mouth because it made me feel as though I had some semblance of control over something when everything else felt painfully out of my control. And furthermore, I certainly didn’t form a healthy body image by listening to our father put our mother down for her weight and her appearance all those years.
The truth is, I’m still trying to heal the part of me that needed to self harm. Since that lifelong attachment wound is still left wide open, the eating disorder just picked up where the self harm left off because that negative energy still needed a place to go. I heard a beautiful song the other day and one particular lyric really touched me. It said, “I’ll bleed until the bleeding’s done.” I guess maybe I’m just not done bleeding, yet. I do feel like there’s something in me that is resisting healing, though. My mind has always known such suffering so that’s what feels normal and safe to me. It doesn’t feel normal for me to have good days so it feels scary at times to experience real joy because it’s so unfamiliar to me. I’ve been lucky to have a body that healed after I broke my jaw and my back in my car accident at age 22. My body healed from all of my self-harm injuries. My body healed after I broke both of my ankles in a fall and now I’m able to walk/run 4 to 6 miles almost every day of the week with almost no pain. I desperately wish my mind was as quick to heal. Our family has a frightfully robust collection of mental health disorders on both our father’s side and our mother’s side. Depression… alcoholism… personality disorders… suicide attempts…childhood trauma; it didn’t start with you and it didn’t start with me. But it’s the hand you and I were dealt and I’m still here trying to figure it out one day at a time.
It’s difficult to describe the mind-bending confusion that is happening for me. As toxic as this eating disorder is for my well-being, I’m receiving positive feedback from people around me. “Hey girl, you’re looking amazing, what’s your secret??” Or, “I wish I was as skinny as you.” I really wish people would just stop commenting on women’s bodies like that. Our bodies should just be a non-issue. It’s such a shameful feeling to be receiving compliments for being so fully engaged with something that is so hurtful to my physical and mental well being.
Sometimes, I turn down social invitations because I know there will be food there and I don’t want the temptation nor the peer pressure to consume things that I don’t want to consume. Sometimes, I go to bed extra early because I’m hungry but I'm afraid if I stay up that I’ll eat things that I don’t want to eat. How strange that it makes me feel as though I’m in complete control, when the reality is that I’m now completely out of control because its hooks are so deep and I’m not sure how to navigate my way back out. I’ve been open about this struggle with my friends in group therapy as well as my therapist, who has suggested I reach out to an eating disorder clinic for additional help that she doesn’t feel she can provide. Logically I know that is the right thing to do, but I’m just not there yet.
I have good days and even good weeks and months but healing isn’t ever linear so I’m really trying not to beat myself up over my setbacks when they occur. I’m giving myself permission to isolate more because that’s what feels safest to me right now. I can control my environment at home so it just feels better to be there.
While I am struggling, I can appreciate the good things I have. I have a steady job that pays my bills. I’m able to pay for weekly individual therapy and weekly group therapy. I have a house that I love that I have decorated in the quirky way that only I can do. I have a small group of close friends who reciprocate my friendship and want to remain connected to me, even while knowing that I’m not fully healed. I’ve been able to spend the winter outside walking everyday and that has been so good for my mental well being. I’m spending more time reading, journaling and listening to music and even just dancing around my house. I have weekly FaceTime dates with a wonderful friend in Texas. I’m blissfully happy with the idea of remaining single and enjoy my solitude a great deal. I have 2 wonderful cats who bring me so much comfort and joy on a daily basis. I’m learning to try and live in the middle knowing that both intense pain and joy can exist within the same person at the very same time. And that’s OK. I’ll get by as I always have, I’m just dealing with the road blocks as they come up.
Thanks for listening as always, Brian.
-Laura