After leaving my job in disgrace, I've lived in my bedroom, eating and eating and crying and making arbitrary lists of things. I managed to look in the mirror for the first time in months and I am an absolute mess. Fortunately I haven't seen any friends so I haven't had to endure the whole 'oh... you're looking... healthier?' or 'oh lucky you - you actually have breasts now!' Reading what Ophelia wrote, I realised how sick I am of wallowing and feeling inadequate and ugly and invisible. So I made a list (of course) of the things that made me happiest. And there it was: Sex, alcohol, starvation.
That is who I am and in that order. What if that is my 'true spirit'? Some anonymous cunt told me I was a "dirty whore" which made me irate. If I was a man, then I could fuck whoever I wanted and I would be worshipped but as a woman, I'm despised. And the idea of being "dirty"? It's my body - I've fucked it up enough, why not literally too? But seriously, the whole notion that a woman's honour could be 'tainted', 'stained', 'tarnished' by having or even, horrifyingly, enjoying sex is deeply offensive. Perhaps what terrifies me the most, is the invisible misogyny and the irony that a large proportion of the media portrays anorexics as victims of this misogyny.
I don't even know. Are we victims of our own creation? Everything I've done to destroy my life has been my fault. I'm sick of being a victim of a mental disease. Am I sick? Probably - but absolutely not in the way my doctor thinks.
Thanks Ophelia, I think I've just had an epiphany.