I’m floppy.

I woke with a sore neck and throbbing head at 4am, gave in and took drugs at 1:30pm. Now I have no pain but should avoid driving motor vehicles and operating heavy machinery. I hope writing is not considered heavy machinery.

I like to think that while under the influence, my creative juices flow. But perhaps when I wake in the morning, I will realise the only thing flowing, is my dignity – straight down the drain.

It is curious how this state of unnatural relaxation leaves me feeling perfectly comfortable eating like a “normal” person. Well – once the nausea abated and I woke from my drug-induced nap.

For the past ten days I’ve had a burning, yearning desire to stop eating. To eat so sparingly and spasmodically, weight would drop from me like a stone in a pond. As the rush of pain relief hit my veins, I found a tasty side dish of emotional relief accompanying the physical freedom.

Curious huh? Perhaps a daily dose of codeine can release me from the self-imposed prison of eating obsession, and send me to self-imposed constipation incarceration instead.

Today I ate a bowl of porridge for breakfast. Slowly and carefully. Stone cold. Lunch was a carrot – dipped in mustard – washed down with pain killers. Dinner a small bowl of nachos neither rushed nor resisted.

I feel the eating disorder thoughts distancing themselves from me, and I want to reach out, grab them, and press them close to my bosom. They are my friends. Mean girl friends, but friends nonetheless.

Today I also had a sense of life in The Future. I signed up for a twelve month writing course, with the goal of having a first draft of a whole book in my hot little hands by November 2018. A book. You know?! One of those paper things filled with lots and lots of words. I have lots and lots of words so I’m hoping to fill enough pieces of paper with interesting tidbits to call it A Book.

I also talked to my employers about taking time off for a trip to Europe at the end of 2018 and they were fine with it. Not just four weeks, but the full twelve weeks I’d originally hoped to do. The trip of a lifetime is the mental image I have – traipsing through Parisienne backstreets, meandering across Scottish Moors, cruising around the Greek Isles. A simple little tick of approval from the boss, enough to bring a long held dream to the forefront of possible realistic futures.

Realistic futures make me happy, give me a sense of purpose, and allow me to focus on not-food-or-fat thoughts. Just imagine dear friends, if this time next year I’m finalising a first dodgy draft of a real life book, while tying together the last loose ends of travel plans for a European adventure.

Just imagine! While under the influence of pain-free euphoria, anything is possible. Even freedom from Eating Disorder.


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