This testimony is hard to write, because theres just so much I could say, but I’ll try:
I am 15. I am sitting with my back against the door to my room. The lights are off. I have been bulimic for two years, and have decided that I don’t deserve this life. I decide to slit my wrists. I am listening to my iPod, and holding the blade in my hand. I keep bringing it closer and closer, hands shaking. Then on my iPod the song “I Want My Life” by Smile Empty Soul comes on. I drop the blade, start sobbing, and spend the rest of the night in prayer.
Almost purged today. Almost starved. Almost cut.
BUT I DIDNT BITCHES.
I am actually quite proud of myself. If I hadn’t needed to go to church I probably would have, but I just kept telling myself after, and of course I always feel better after church. It was kinda disheartening, because I’ve felt like I was getting better, but I guess I’ll never have to stop working. All at once the voices came back calling me a fuck up and a slut, telling me that the only reason guys like me is because they think I’m easy, telling me that if I was single I would such a tramp. All at once I wanted to drown it out with hunger, emptiness, a razor, and some vodka. But I can’t do that anymore. No, I don’t do that anymore. An Albus Dumbledore quote came to mind: Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. And it’s true.
I overate, and I can deal with that setback like a rational person. I can realize that while it felt like a lot, I haven’t been eating properly and what I ate then wasn’t very much at all. I can realize that it was disconcerting to fall so easily into that mindset again, but also realize that the road to recovery is not always easy, and that I will make mistake. I can forgive myself.