Arya Writes

Taking entries from my journal and sharing them with you all

[doglogic]

Eating Disorder Recovery Is Not Pretty. 

I've always been bothered by "before and after eating disorder" posts on social media. They usually show an extremely thin woman who then fills out her body and still resides firmly within society's beauty standards. The comments are always along the lines of "You look so good now" "You look so healthy now" etc.

Your recovery is not about how you looked then and how you look now. It is about how you feel on the inside.

The brutal truth of eating disorder recovery is that it is not pretty. More often than not you will gain weight, a lot of it, and the people who used to shower you with compliments grow quiet.

To heal from an eating disorder you need to be ready for this. You need to be ready to push desirability out of your mind. You need to value your happiness, health, and life above how others perceive you. Eating disorder recovery is not easy. It is not instagram worthy. It is not "attractive".

I am no longer consumed by thoughts of food. I don't live every hour of my day thinking about what I'll eat next. Planning my meals and exercise, checking myself in the mirror, drinking so much black coffee I would shake. I don't feel fatigued 24/7 - I don't sob when I get on a bathroom scale. But do I hold as much sway over people as I did before? Of course not. Do I sometimes miss the attention being thin and pretty got me? Definitely.

Was it all worth it though - this entire lifestyle dedicated to being wanted by others, to be beautiful? No it wasn't. I would much rather be fat and happy than miserable and skinny.

[doglogic]

Introduction for an unwritten book

Through the ink black winter wind a hum rose from the earth. It was human but not human. An in between sort of sound that raised the hair on the back of ones neck.

The old warrior leaned over the village wall, listening. The hum rose in volume then recessed in wave-like undulations. The wind often made strange sounds as it whipped through the exposed rocks of the mountains. But this was different. Chorus-like. Distinct. He had heard it before in his youth, but no...he had to be mistaken.

Memories of sick pots and bloody noses flashed before him. Bruises blossoming under pale skin. Still born calves and marrow for dinner. His sister's scalp visible beneath her once thick black hair.

A gasp a couple feet down the wall snapped him back to reality. His fellow wall watcher was gripping the ledge of the wall so fiercely that her hands trembled. She was looking at something. The warrior followed her gaze.

Out of the stillness a person shaped light had appeared. The featureless silhouette paced over the snow, walking parallel to the village. Its' feel left no mark. The golden glow of its body pierced through the darkness, it was almost painful to look at it directly.

An echo! he thought, immediately averting his eyes. Although the thing was many meters into the tundra he could feel its sickness twist in his belly. He glanced at his companion. The other wall watcher was also crouched behind the wall, her hand hovering over her dagger. He almost let out a bitter laugh. That weapon would be useless. They were lucky the echo wasn't approaching them.

The warrior didn't look over the wall again until the pain in his stomach dissipated and he could no longer hear the discordant hum. With a quick glance he could see the light of the echo dissolve into the shadows of the tundra.

Silence fell over the snow once again.