Relapse, Almost.

It comes and it goes.

He lurks in the background, shady and opportunistic. The higher the demands of daily life, the closer he lurks. Sometimes, he gets so close it gags you. He clouds the eye, and dams the throat. He lurks in the darkness. He is a robber. He steals… mouthpieces.

I cannot talk without a mouth, and I cannot eat. The robber is sly. He demands a ransom.

The faster you run, the faster he catches up with you.

It comes and it goes.

Today, I struggled. The old feelings returned, and Anorexia tried to force its way back into life. Recovery doesn’t come overnight. There was the loss of appetite, a chockfull of Anxiety bottled up inside, a run that only worsened things and a noisiness inside that drowned out my voice. The old Bad familiar feelings returned, taunting- the feeling of Blackness, and the feeding myself when my body lost its physical sensation. My mouthpiece was stolen today, but I sought to get it back. I sat on Relapse and shot it in the face, fed myself because it was my responsibility, and sat down to listen to silence.

Anxiety. Just.

Today was the 4th time I attended the support group. For the past 3 sessions, I have been touched and motivated by the young people there who share their experiences and who tell me how they’re inspired to see the Possibility of recovery through me. Every time I attend it, I go with joy and the hope of possibly encouraging someone. But tonight I went, ridden with anxiety, because I realize just how real Relapse is. How like them all, I am vulnerable.

3 out of every 100 women suffer from anorexia, many many more from eating disorders. 50% of people in recovery relapse within their first year. Some have been struggling with it for so long, decades, that it has become a part of their lives, the only part of their identity then can relate to, and they no longer know who they are. It is not an issue about vanity. It is about deep emotional trauma often stemming from childhood, trauma that manifests itself in a loss of appetite and a desire to control, especially when one has lost control of the things in life that are supposed to guarantee a child joy- things like family stability, love, and security. Anorexia is a facet of depression really.

There were twice as many people there today. And I struggled to hold back the tears as I watched the young people enter the room, stick-thin, with the bony wrists and skeletal hands I used to have, and hollow faces. It’s the hands that scare me the most, hands so thin you can see the veins and see the hollowness outlining the bones. It was difficult to watch. All of them struggling with a demon inside, calling out for help.

I fight a giant eight feet tall with nothing but a toothpick when I try and fight back the tears. So many emotions, so many thoughts, too many feelings. Old feelings, sometimes.

People stigmatise Anorexia and depression because they think these are illnesses people bring upon themselves. They think: Snap out of it, and you’ll be okay. But come and see these people, understand their histories, what they’ve been through, and you too, will come to respect them. You too will understand why it is an illness, why stigmas need to be fought, how it is stigmas that kill, kill the many, many souls out there who ought to be at the support group but can’t find the courage or means to, because they’re feeling ashamed, stigmas that are the cause of suicides.

Really, I think, these young people are brave.

Brave, not because they’re well. Not because they’ve reached their goals. And brave, not even because they’re hopeful about recovery- because many aren’t. But brave, because they’re trying. They’re trying hard to find themselves amidst this mess. They are young children spun on a merry-go-round accelerated to dizzying speeds by crazy adults who unintentionally tilted their lives out of balance a long time ago, trying to get off it so they can lead a normal, un-dizzied life on solid ground. To get off a merry-go-round spun around on full speed isn't easy. Most of them don't wish to because the world is familiar to them looking like a blur of colour and mess. It takes a lot of courage to leap off onto solid ground. I keep trying to tell them, and myself too today, that life is better on the ground. Life is better on solid ground.

The whole time I felt like crying today. Too many feelings, too many thoughts. But Im such a social bunny nobody ever knows. At the end of the sharing sessions, a middle-aged lady, warded for anorexia, asked me, “How did God help you out of this?”

I told her and shared my experience with her. She had many questions, I answered them. We agreed to meet sometime soon to talk more.

“You feeling better?”

She looked at me, glazed. Then, she smiled, slowly. “Thank you very much.”

Then it all fell back into place. That tomorrow, things will be better. We all have our own demons to slay. And sometimes, it takes a few chops at the same spot to hack their necks off.

Today was a difficult day. Insecurity, anxiety, shame and fear boiling inside a cool controlled surface. I had to sit myself down and listen to silence.

I always say I'm okay, because I know I will be anyways. But I think people shouldn't be afraid to say they're not, you know? There's no need to try so hard to be when you're not. The facilitator came up to me and said, “ Don’t spread yourself too thin on helping other people. Whatever it is, YOU come first.” I keep being there for other people, this time, I have to be here for myself first. I don't know what exactly pulled the trigger but this headache isn't going away. I'm still trying to find out. Yes, things are not okay and I have to be here for me this time. This time, Im not okay. But I promise I will be.

Okay.