I’ve never thought of myself as an addict. I’ve honestly never even considered the word or the fact that someone other than a person addicted to drugs or cigarettes was an addict. However, as I ponder this thought, I realize, by the definition, I can fall under this category.
I’m addicted to the idea of looking pretty. Addicted to the thought of being a size 2. Addicted to feeling or seeing bone and well..just anything pertaining to eating disorders. I don’t even know what the ideal image I’m searching for looks like. I don’t even have that mental picture! It’s an intriguing thought though, considering yourself an addict.
I know that people are going to say ‘you’re pretty no matter what’ or ‘inside and out’, but sometimes that’s not enough and sometimes….it is. Sometimes you need to feel they mean it, or feel pretty inside and out.
There is a ray of sunshine at the end of this very very dark tunnel. There’s always an opportunity for an addict to come clean.
“10 months sober, I must admit
Just because you’re clean don’t mean you miss it.”
Just because you are in recovery doesn’t mean you don’t go through periods of time where you feel the heavy burden of being perfect or being whatever your ideal image is. You….just sorta miss it. It doesn’t make sense. It’s never going to make sense. You just miss it; there’s really no logical explanation for why you miss something that hurts you.
“Baby I know places we won’t be found and they’ll be chasing our trace tryin’ to track us down”
I need go someplace where Ed can’t find me. That’s not a possibility though simply because Ed is in my head. He knows my every waking thought and every emotion. He lives with me. He’s a part of me and he’s always going to be. BUT when you become clean, that voice that usually screams at you? Well, that voice, suddenly becomes silent much more often. More than you every fathomed possible.