i haven’t really written since Wild Writing ended this year. I’m at a loss to say where my time has gone. I wished it had gone to more writing, to books, to afternoons lying down under blankets or under the hot gaze of the sun listening to neko case’s ‘I’m An Animal’ on repeat. My guess is that it’s mostly gone to work, worrisome thoughts about dumb things that don’t really matter (and some that do as the 2020 election looms large) and many a youtube black hole of videos about harry styles and this strange new obsession with a random pop star that feels like something i should be ashamed of (but i’m not) ?

it’s gone to smoothies for breakfast for the past 2 months because food has all of a sudden become hard again. i can’t discern what my body wants when it’s hungry so i pulverize some things in a blender because it’s easier to suck down gloop through a straw than it is to prepare a meal. there was a brief english muffin phase but that’s mostly past since they don’t keep me full very long and i’m now obsessed with how long smoothies stay with me. frozen banana, frozen spinach, frozen cauliflower, chia seeds, flax seeds, mct oil, collagen powder, hemp protein powder, kale, oat milk, cold brew coffee, chocolate syrup and if i remember, peanut butter.

most days i have to drink some from the blender because it doesn’t all fit in a mason jar. 20+ oz of wellness industry bullshit that a part of me still buys into because old habits die hard. the chocolate syrup is my addition. fuck you and your cacao or unsweetened cocoa powder. it’s not the same.

somedays it’s enough of a coating to my innards that my meds don’t bug me. somedays it is not and i’m a hot mess on the toilet with my eating disorder in my brain telling me, “Diarrhea is awesome and i should drink more of my meals!”

it’s still there. i still hear it. i don’t often do what it wants me to do but i still book circuit workouts and then cancel them. i still book hot yoga classes then cancel them. i still wonder what that number is on the scale. it’s like the one sliver of pie in a trivial pursuit piece that i’ve purposefully removed (i was always the worst at science and nature so let’s say i’m missing the green piece). i will never be able to finish the game because i’ve opted out of being “complete” so i can win according to a set of rules set by old white dudes who think all women should be skinny and quiet.

last month my obgyn told me i dropped x amt of lbs since my last visit with her 3 months ago and went to high five me and i was seized with fear because she looked poised to tell me my weight even though I had written all over every piece of intake paperwork they gave me that i was in recovery from an ED and i could not know that number. I mention it every time i step on a scale backwards. I mention it at every opportunity i get with a medical professional I see.

i haven’t mentioned the smoothies to my therapist until this week when i mentioned it in the context of a story about being excited about bagels and the new bagel joint near my house. the idea of solid breakfast was finally appealing to me. she asked me about the smoothies and i told her it’s because food is confusing in the mornings. it’s true. mostly. i also wonder if it’s partially false. i also wonder if the part of me that wants to celebrate having the shits is also the part that says if i can live on drinkable kale and oat milk i’ll become smaller.

my head has been a dangerous place to be living in lately. so many booby traps. hence the youtube blackholes and the edibles every night.

i’ve known for awhile that i’ve been surviving.

Will I ever know when i’m actually thriving? I barely remember what that feels like.