February 11, 2009

I’ve recognized today

That my Mother isn’t going to let me live. Ever since I was three she’s been prepping me for this eating disorder. I am her life’s work. Killing me is what she set out to do. 

Portioning, restricting, skipping meals, counting calories at three, four, five.

Weight Watchers at eight, nine, ten.

Twelve, Thirteen, anorexia. Locking me in the basement until I ran one mile. Two miles. Three miles. Padlocks on the cupboards. Groundings until I lost five pounds. Ten pounds. Cutting, countless suicide attempts. 

Fourteen, lost fifty pounds by anorexia because I couldn’t stand her abuse anymore. I’d not eat for 14 days, eat one meal, starve again. She knew it the entire time. She encouraged it. 

Now I’m back to it again. And I know it’s bad and wrong and unhealthy. But I want to be thin. I can’t take her abuse. 

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