like an apple

Crackers, rice, lentils, meat, but I would rather eat, a poem, like an apple.


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Touched Out

Great post, found on Freshly Pressed "Sometimes it feels like my brain and spirit are a delicate silk-velvet that my kids have been ever so gently stroking until I am bare, without any texture.

Sometimes I feel the urge to snap at them, like a cat or dog who’s suckling babes have nipped them.

Being aware of my limitations, trying to have a sense of humor, and giving myself even a couple minutes of self care and space every now and then is about the best I can do.

My body is not my own, and somedays I wonder if I will ever get it back, though I would gladly give it for my children again and again. Being touched out can feel excruciatingly unpleasant, but it is also a right of passage into motherhood, a sign and symptom that I have granted these beings passage into this world through my own body, and must now nudge and guide them.

In the blink of an eye, before I even know what is happening, they will let go my hand, and I know I will crave the closeness of their little bodies with a whole new feeling whose name I do not yet know."

So It Begins

On The Troubled Tree

Eating disorders are cruel. Especially on holidays. Especially on any days, that end in y. Why, you may ask? Well, it is pretty simple. Eating disorders always have the final say at the days end, sometimes even sooner.

It may be confusing, but for me, the best way to describe my eating disorder is like a personal, romantic relationship. We will call my eating disorder Pete, just for fun.

Pete and I became friends when I was eight years old. I was fat. Seriously overweight. My mom, bless her heart (for she did not know better) took me, fat eight year old to Weight Watchers. I began to diet. One of many that I would try over the next fifteen years. But being a kid always seemed to get the best of me. I could not resist the sweets, the temptation, the desire to just eat like all the other kids.

Insert Pete. I found out that I could eat what I wanted as long as a few days before weigh in, I did not eat at all. Pete became my best friend. As I got our, my relationship with Pete changed.

Pete was there when I needed a shoulder to cry on. Pete was there when I wanted to feel empty so I could ignore the anger and the depression. Pete was there when I felt like I had no one else. Pete even introduced me to his best friend, self-harm. We will call that Steve. I knew I could turn to Pete whenever, and if I didn't feel in the mood for Pete, I had Steve too.

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