Mia, Gluttony, and Desire

I've been contemplating a lot about Mia lately. My meals begin with a planned out control that I will keep to my designated safe foods but then, I feel Mia coo out to me. 

"Why are you eating salad? That spaghetti sure looks good. Yum yum carbs...go find out how delicious it is."

"Oooo they have apple and raspberry turnovers today. Go eat it. Now!"

"That cereal sure looks like something you'd never eat, go on...try it."

My brow scrunches, eyes shut. "Stop it!! Please!!!"

Mia ignores my protests, her overwhelming desire to fill my mouth with iced confectioneries looms over my being. Her impatience vibrates to the very core of my soul until...I break.

Will power lost, I frantically obey; ravaging all sweet morsels that are forced past my lips.

The frenzy of food sickens me. I become uncomfortably full and then guilt replaces gluttony--washing over me like a cold shower. It hurts to purge so much for so long. I always have to drain everything out, even my safe foods.Throat raw, my hands look so very dried out from the massive loss of fluids from vomiting. The stomach acid also leaks over my fingers, removing nail polish and devouring the first layer of surface skin on my hands. 

Why doesn't anyone else see this madness happening to me? I wobble and stumble after each purge, lightheaded and dehydrated, a constant pounding in my skull. 

I think having an eating disorder makes it only evident to those who are on or have been on the same path. Unaffiliated others can only be suspicious and often tire of wondering and forget the very idea. 

Mia frightens me. More so than Ana, because with Ana, I feel free. Clean. Pure. I am alive, I shout throughout my being, I exist and I am invincible. However, with Mia...there's nothing more I want to do than die. She hurts me and torments me. I don't like purging, feeling guilty, hating every inch of my flesh. 

I should return to Ana. I am done with Mia's sadistic merry-go-round.

And even though I write this out to you, my dear reader, I cannot honestly say, "I will never binge and purge again." Because you know what? I'm inevitably will. God, I am such a weakling.

Hating everything,

                    ~Noi

Empty Satisfaction

I feel like I'm balancing on the edge of a knife. Stability is but a wandering newspaper caught in a breeze; it is a loss of control with each draft. This is the reality for me. Securely strapped on the leash of Ana and Mia; my mistress changing in this constant battle, this struggle against the collar. I may fight back but, I do not intend to break free. I am a pet that knows not to bite back.

The allure of indulging coos to me, whether it is by satiation by food, sex, or my own vanity. There is a definite connection between bulimia and sexual promiscurity  we are physically gluttonous, constantly searching to trigger a dopamine rush. Life would be so much easier if such a hormonal chemical would just come in pill form...yet I cannot help but imagine a bulimic downing the entire bottle in a mania to fill the emptiness we feel in our souls.

As for Ana, and our twisted obsession with low numbers, with protruding bones...she is indeed an encomposing, devouring force. The cold reminds me of her; soft autumn breezes striking as sharp razors as the scales number dips lower and lower. A sign of progression is what you'll tell yourself. Building a impenetrable wall of will power against the evils that go into the disgusting hole humans call "the mouth." Low sugar, low fat, low carb...or better yet, zero calories--the phrase that sends anorexics into a delightful frenzy. We diet, we fast, all the while telling ourselves "Twenty seconds on the lips, forever on the hips." How catchy, how hypnotic.

The truth of the matter is that once the seed of ED has been planted, there is no uprooting it. It is a weed of the mind, grasping our entire being and never letting go. Our bodies become our cages, and so we search for a key that does not exist. Oh well. Our trust can only go to Ana and Mia, let's hope they spare some of our sanity.


Striving and starving for perfection,
                                                  ~Noi

Rejection from the Inside

I think I have finally reached the point where my body just won't accept any breads/grains/carbs. Earlier, I was in a cooking mood; my plan was to cook for everyone else and to fast for the day. I made it to nine o'clock pm before I felt like I should eat something so, I made blueberry pancakes.

 I was picking at them while some were still in the pan but, I didn't feel much like eating the entire batch (which I probably would as a bulimic). Instead, I threw them away and rushed to the bathroom, throwing them up unintended. Only a clear, purple liquid came out, no solids, and I spent the rest of the night feeling thoroughly nauseous and shaky--of coarse, not eating anything else.

I suppose this is good in the long run but, I hate feeling ill. If anything, this rejection ordeal has completely broken whatever spirit I had left to eat "normally." Back to Ana's cold embrace from here...


To gain control is to lose weight,
                                       ~Noi

                               

Deteriorating Purity

People can't know
                  About this  C r e a t u r e  hidden inside.


                                                                                 With a pout that locks It  in,
                                       It  peeks out at the world through pools of  G r e y  ,
                     It  glares and gleams,
The pernicious  M i n x 
              Has only  H a v o c  on It's  agenda.


                           Tearing from loose threads,
                                                       It  paces in the mind;
                                                                                     Its  claws gashing  I n s i d e  ,


A masochistic twitch coagulating in Its  being.
                                          The flinting flock of  I n n e r  P e a c e
                   Is left  V i c t i m  to Its  insatiable  H u n g e r  .


                                                                Crimson dribbles over untainted  I n n o c e n c e 
                                As It  sadistically takes  S i n f u l  P l e a s u r e  in
C o r r u p t i o n  from the inside out.


                                                     The prison grows  F r a g i l e  ,
                                                                            Teeth chewing and rouge smearing,

          The  E n d  draws nearer.


                                                                       The  B e a s t  grins in Its  own  M a d n e s s  .
                          Hissing  L i e  after  L i e  as the lips part.


Bones jut out and pinching becomes a  R i t u a l  . . .
                                                                   Silence settles.


         Remaining  W i l l  P o w e r  is consumed and
                                               Cold, salty morose over flows  G r e y  windows;
                                                         The  S o u l  once trapped with the  M o n s t e r
                                  Fading into  N o t h i n g n e s s  .


The  H o l l o w  domain can no longer cage the  S e c r e t  ,

                                                           As the  T r u t h  is blatant and  R e a l i t y  is harsh.