“It’s difficult to not be anxious in a place full of so many people. It makes me hyper aware of myself and my own body and just how incongruous I am. Some things beat at us for so long we give them up; until that moment when just a tiny whisper reminds us again and we’re reunited with a truth we’d rather not know. So it is with my body, but whispers have turned to loud voices and more than a tiny part of me knows this means change. Anything to shut the voices up.”
“My body takes up more space than my mind and heart can allow. It is sad when you feel you are one thing but the mirror shows that you are something else. There is such a conflict between my soul and its’ home. And this is the seed which is planted far beneath any surface I can reach; a voice telling me I am not what I am supposed to be. And this is something no thought or feeling in my being can argue with.”
-Excerpts from 2015 journal in which I was traveling between Amsterdam and Epsom
There are secrets we keep, balled up in our stomachs as we poke them and watch our flesh move. I tell everyone who will listen about the wonderful month I spent traveling abroad in Amsterdam and Epsom; how beautiful the streets were and the amazing smell of the bakeries. But you know what I do not tell them? I never tried a Danish pastry while I was there. I wouldn’t let myself. I barely ate for a month, exercised every day, and came back to my friends and family who glowed at me and said “You look great!” It’s so hard not to hide your excitement, that rush of pride for all your hard work at being thin, thin, thin. And I would’ve stopped sooner if I hadn’t been treated so wonderfully for simply being (in a word) less.
Some secrets are too much to keep, and come spilling out of us in unhealthy ways, changing us.