I went to visit my friend back at Inpatient today.
She had a 1-Hour pass to leave the Eating Disorder Unit, so we decided to sit outside on the grounds.
Roger’s Hospital has a very beautiful, spacious and very well manicured ground with a Gazebo, and a nice bench Swing that seats 4.
We chose the Gazebo.
The very SAME Gazebo, that not even 6 Months ago, I was asked by MY Behavior Specialist, to RECORD my story of being Raped.
In as much DETAIL as I could remember.
What in the actual FUCK!?
I can’t even tell my own PASTOR, who I trust, about my past, WHY would I tell a complete STRANGER!?!
IN detail!?
The Doctor’s “theory” behind it, was that by sharing all of the traumatic events that I had ever endured, over and over and over again, by listening to my OWN story, in my OWN voice, that I would be “desensitized”, and would therefore, be able to “move forward” in Life.
Okayyyy.
Um, NO.
The sexual abuse that I suffered was SO traumatic that I do not even allow MYSELF to go there.
EVER.
I can’t.
I just CAN’T.
That fragment of my shattered heart, is SO broken that I honestly don’t believe that it can, or will, EVER be able to go back to what it once was.
I DON’T KNOW HOW!?!
I can TRY to convince my Brain that it never happened.
But THAT obviously has NOT worked.
And is NOT working.
That shit was, and STILL is, branded into my mind.
My body.
And my soul.
With such a deep penetrating stain, I don’t even feel like JESUS can wash it out 100%.
People SAY that he CAN.
I WANT Him to.
In fact, I remember getting Baptized during those “dirty” years, SPECIFICALLY so that it could ALL be washed away!?!
So that I could be made “clean”.
NEW.
So WHY do I NOT feel like I’ve escaped that internal Hurricane that rips through my silent mind, leaving nothing but screaming devastation!?!
Everywhere.
Seriously.
Needless to say, sitting IN that exact same Gazebo, being brought back to that PLACE and mind SPACE, every single one of those emotions rolled over my body, leaving me anxiety ridden to the point of wanting to throw up.
I wanted to run away.
BUT…
I couldn’t LEAVE, so I had to make the best of it.
And so I DID.
HOWEVER,
As I’m sitting there, I’m also starting to feel more and more guilty.
Why?
Because as someone who has been a past Patient, AND who is trying to be an encouraging Friend to someone who is CURRENTLY there receiving Treatment, I sometimes feel unable to meet her gaze.
I feel like a Fraud.
A failure.
I am still caught and dangling haphazardly in the sticky Web of deceit that an Eating Disorder spins.
I use every “Behavior”, if not MORE, than I should be.
I’m supposed to be IN Recovery.
And I am not.
I starve.
I binge.
I purge.
I hoard.
I isolate.
No, I am NOT fine.
I will say that I AM,
With that bright smile you expect.
But I am not.
I am far from it.
A smile can hide a lot.
It IS “easier” @ times.
Shelly's Recovery 