I Wear Purple Because

I wear purple because:

20% of people with an eating disorder cannot

They fought a mental illness whose mortality rate

Is higher than those of any other

And sadly they did not win

I wear purple because

I am not ashamed of my disease

And although many fail to comprehend

By spreading awareness and educating

I hope to help decrease the death toll

I refuse to be a statistic

I wear purple because

Some of the strongest people I know

Most of my closest and kindest friends

And the futures doctor’s, lawyers, teachers and more

Are fighting a war inside their head

I made a pact to support them

I wear purple because

There is someone out there

Wanting to wear purple just for someone to notice

They need help and they can’t fight this alone

Today and any day know you have my support

I wear purple because

Eating disorders do not discriminate

Neither does the color pink

People of all ages, ethnicities, races and genders

Are suffering an illness in silence

They fear they will be judged

I wear purple because

One day I will believe I am more than

A number, a height, a measurement, a BMI

I am more than my looks

More than my curves

And way more than those who caused this extreme self hatred

I look real good, real beautiful in violet

I wear purple because

To me it’s a symbol of strength and courage

3 years ago I cared only of my weight

2 years ago my heart rate was low

Last year I grew tired of the fight and tried to do myself in

This year I wear purple because

When my illness tried to kill me

God didn’t allow it

He kept me here so that I could wear purple again

Oh and it’s my favorite color ;)

 

Kimberly Edwards

February, 24, 2015

It ALL falls out

Before I hit puberty or as soon as I was able to speak it became quite apparent that anything that went on in my mind came out. My ability to filter was non existent therefore causing my words and actions to fall out like shit does in the middle of labor. Due to the instability of my living arrangements and family structure at the time there are not many childhood stories before the age of five, but the tales that do exist are usually of which I either lack a verbal or physical filter. Yes I had control over myself but one should’ve been prepared for what was yet to come when I along with the neighbor decided to pee along the side of my childhood home. Yep, I did that alright, obviously not as easily as my friend with the penis. He had much better aim although now that I picture the wet brick perhaps his ability to control his swing wasn’t as good as it should have been. As my optimistic self would conclude he was attempting an actual picture.  

 

One would question what possibly could have been trampling through my mind to cause me to follow through with such an act. I can’t recall, but am pretty sure it was my friends’ idea. Mind you I was creative but I was also very afraid of my dad when he was angry. Around this age was when my older sister would be forced to take me on outings with her friends. I’ll assume it was because of all the Kool-aid that I had to urinate a lot and since we weren’t at home she let me pee in the woods. That’s where my obsession with peeing in places besides the bathroom began and still has yet to end.

 

 

I backed my little light skinned ass up against the hot bricks that to this day can’t beat the burn of daddy’s hands when he saw his baby girl’s pants on the ground while she intriguingly watched pee trickle down the side of her leg and his home. I’d like to let you know what happened to my friend but between trying to pull my pants up before getting to wipe and daddy screaming my attention span didn’t make it past black boy over the fence. That little boy wasn’t a very good friend leaving me to fend for myself he never came back. Did he care if I would survive? More importantly though I wonder if I was the only one who he has talked into peeing on a house?

 

Not long after the cleaning of daddy’s small brick suite in the hood I moved to Ithaca with my mother where she would soon experience the one of a kind filterless child. On one of our first outings to the grocery store I slipped. Ithaca to an outta towner is like a museum due to the many different types of people, styles, foods, accents, mental illnesses; you can’t help but stare, unless you’re me that is. There I was standing behind this big boned man whom turned around and smiled politely at me, I looked up at my mom and real loud asked “Mommy what happened to that mans teeth?” My mom was embarrassed; the man probably was as well but not enough to stop smiling. Of course at that moment she tried to instill a sense of respect by educating me on the whole concept of keeping some things to yourself which she would later realize was a complete waste of time. I give her credit though for the attempt.

On a daily basis I spend a lot of time in my head. My mother always tells me I spend too much time there but the truth is it’s safer. In my head I am questioning whether or not my thoughts belong out here in the world where others can hear. Most of the time, it’s a no! Working at a grocery store or in retail tends to be where I get in the most trouble. I had this one teenage boy buy a large box of neon and flavored condoms which were ironically placed directly in front of his chicken. I got to it and with a slight smirk on my face said “I assume you would like your meat in plastic” and proceeded to wrap them up in his yellow banana flavored contraceptive. No I’m totally kidding, in reality I put my head down attempting not to bust out laughing. I bagged the meat separately from potential victims of disease because I am a strong believer of using plastic contraceptives for all meats in bed and in the frozen section. Hi my name is Kim Edwards and I support this message.

 

It started with sticking coins in my belly button but it wasn’t until recently that I realized just how much impulse control I actually lacked. It literally took for someone to ask “do you always touch your breast in public?” (epiphany happens here) and to myself for once and not aloud I said “just because you’re cold doesn’t mean gently rubbing your teets in public is appropriate, if anything Kim it borders on the creepy side, note to self this can no longer happen”. Luckily I never formed the habit of picking my nose, although that is more common than the things that I do. I actually found myself walking down the stairs once with dishes attempting to stick my entire boob into a measuring cup which then caused me to question if I really belonged out here in society.

Really though I find as I get older it gets worse. I just turned 25 and have discovered how amusing making animal sounds and singing songs about my second to second actions can be. I make faces at myself in the mirror and behind people when I walk. Sometimes I actually burp and try and catch it in a cup. Whenever someone in my house receives a large package I attempt to fit as much of myself in it as possible with the belief that I am somehow talented for contorting my body to fit in the box a flat screen came in. Anyone have any ideas what Freud would say if he were alive? My best guess is “Don’t let her know where I’m buried she will probably piss on my headstone. Oh and don’t let her in with me please, I know for a fact we both wont fit.” Ps. Freud if you can hear me I still find humor in pooping, enjoy sucking on lollipops and other objects (penis not included) and for a while been enjoying sexual experiences. With that said is there a word for someone whom is experiencing more than one developmental phase at once besides Multiple personality disorder or dissociative fugue? Currently I am still in the oral, anal and genital stages of life. What’s that Freud? You don’t know? Ha ha butthead suck on that shit! Or if you prefer then fuck it! (Interpret that filthy word rage as desired to discover which developmental stage you are in readers)