I starved myself for 36 hours straight last week. Several personal issues blew up in my face and I wanted not to feel. I talked to my close friends and went to therapy and started to eat again. This series of tweets illustrates how I feel after eating:
Life sucks. I called a conversion therapist in Virginia because I despise my attraction to men (not in a homophobic way, in a men-disappoint-and-oppress-all-the-time way). I feel foolish and naive for trusting a man who took advantage of me. My close friends tell me I should blame him and that I did the best I could; I know I should believe them, but I still feel like the most unintelligent person in the world. I might fail a class with an oppressive white male professor. I wish I could feel hopeful and I do not.
This post does not serve as a cry for help. I just wanted to share a low point, because low points happen, and right now I cannot muster the strength to pretend to feel any positivity. As Ariana’s tweets suggest, sometimes life just sucks. No fake smile necessary, here.
In the middle of my restricting episode last week, I went on a jog. My iPod’s shuffle feature played “Sober” by Demi Lovato and I cried so hard, snot came out of my nose and splattered the rough brown tile where I sat, near a running lake with beautiful flowing water. I went home and ate some potato chips, which made me feel like an out-of-control loser. But I felt it, and then I went to therapy and talked about it. I still do not feel better. But I feel something, even though I would rather not eat and feel nothing. James Baldwin once wrote “not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” I am trying to face my feelings, for my grandmother, my close friends, and the people I care about, including the readers of this blog. I’m sorry I’m not my strongest self right now. As Demi sings in “Sober,” I’m sorry to myself.