The Stranger I know too Well

His eyes were so unique; I had forgotten we had already been acquainted. He mulled me over inch by inch, I could feel every stitch of my recovery unravel before me. It was almost as if he was only using my brown glass stained eyes to tare apart my soul. Instead of questioning his intentions my curiosity only peeked with a burning desire to like myself again. I glided away with the utmost yet dangerous certainty that I was stronger than my eating disorder and I could just as easily leave it behind.  But already I had fallen into the depths of his wandering hateful eyes. As soon as I gave him a second glance he had trapped me. I allowed myself to think it was just a ghost of an extremely intolerable past, but he was everywhere, he was everything, he was all I had because no one else could truly understand me, the way that he did.

It was nothing but a dream

It was merely just a chance

To believe I had a chance at love    

My second wedding dance

It was simply just a crack

A patch of life that’s rough

I brushed it off I forgave it

And then I got back up

But a different person for I had broke

And I did not know that I had

I had fallen again into my disorders embrace

It was merely just by chance

My eating disorder had caught me off guard just like every therapist and eating disorder treatment had told me it would. “As soon as you become comfortable and you stop following meal plans” or “it’s when you decide to be spontaneous that your eating disorder will surprise you”. I was the narcissistic son of a bitch that thought I was stronger than my disease, no thanks to the overpowering second half of my DNA, I hate to say it, but gosh damn it the therapist were right and all my dreams had left. That is such black and white thinking, I know, but really sometimes enough is enough and it just seems safer to give up on dreams to follow the one you initially started with, lose a few pounds. Just a couple pounds, enough to fit into those old jeans; why spend extra money on new clothes when you have perfectly good old ones. This is what my dad refers to as being Froogle. I thought to myself just a couple inches off the sides so my skin doesn’t feel bunched up when I roll over at night. Just enough weight so that when I am rushing through the store I can easily weave through the crowds like an airy ballet dancer. I refer to this as artistic precision. Really though, it ain’t no skin off my back, just muscle or is it? Perhaps its everything. Yea its everything because it is NEVER just enough!

God carefully sewed together this imperfect masterpiece that is me. Somewhere below the skin, muscle, cartilage, bone, underneath every inch of every microscopic fiber that is made so simply yet individualistically there is a girl who doesn’t give a fuck what she looks like. I so desperately hope to find her. I knew my eating disorder thoughts were so irrational for a while until I fell into its loop and somehow was able to rationalize everything. It started with me writing my food down in a journal to make sure I was eating enough only to realize I was unsure and embarrassed for caring about myself. That was followed by a bad day that ended with my disease reminding me it was right there to hold my hand and guide me down the old wood floor that erratically splinters as it guides you to the John or Lou. I am standing in front of the toilet and I don’t even have to fight the urge because images of my damaged body are cascading into the recycled water. I throw up on them and think Fuck you! I flush, and as I walk out the door I cry with shame. In my mind, I now hear “yes fuck us, we’re fucked!”

Hi Kim I missed you

I’m so glad you let me in

I was hoping for the chance

To dance this dance again

My favorite part is when you thought

You were safe to enjoy your life

As if we hadn’t shared precious moments

As a husband and a wife

I’m glad though, that I can be here for you

So glad you just don’t know

I promise this time I’ll keep you close

Kim, I will never let you go!

©Kim Edwards