Depression is a funny thing.
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Some days, you forget you ever had it. You forget it was there, you forget that it pays rent somewhere deep in your brain. Depression can be a quiet, easy tenant– paying bills on time, never throwing parties and always taking out the trash.
And then again, there are times when it shows up in your living room. It waits until you’re out of the house, and when you aren’t paying attention– it comes up from behind you, pushes you down, and sits on your chest.
Go back to bed.
But wasn’t I just frolicking in daisies, sunshine and rainbows yesterday?
Sorry, mother fucker. Today you get a visit from your longest tenant.
It’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your eyes, or the lashes on your eyelids. It’s the kind of darkness that makes you see things that can’t really be there, like random shocks of red light, or an incomprehensible low throb of light pulsing in the edges of your vision.
It’s silent, but you can hear– hear isn’t the right word– you can loudly feel every movement inside your body– the crack of your spine, the pulse of your organs, the click of your fingers.
My disordered relationship with food has been the longest relationship I’ve ever had. We’re going on two decades now. But I’m finally at a place in my life where I’m the one who has more control—most of the time.
It’s been a long journey with a lot of missteps. The good news is, the lows caused by my eating disorder get higher all the time.
After about 20 years of this relationship, I’m ready to share this post, which is a brief history of me, my eating disorders, and this red dress.
This photo popped up on my Facebook feed recently. You know the kind—the ones that make you remember how your gravitational pull used to be thirty pounds lighter, and how that cute little dress you got in China used to look on you, and how happy—oh how utterly happy, and carefree you were!
This photo did immediately make me think that I needed to go on a crash diet to lose 30lbs, well let’s say 40 so I could BEAT my goal weight, and work out twice a day so that I could have more energy—just look at that image—she has so much energy!
It beams from her!
It was only three years ago after all, how could you have let yourself go so quickly
I was sixteen the first time I went to a psychiatrist.
I don’t honestly remember the appointment all that well, but I do remember sitting in the waiting room, getting nervous and thinking I was out of place.
I remember a nice blonde lady calling my name, following her to a small office, and then plopping down in front of an empty chair that looked nothing like the fainting couches I had seen on TV.