There are only 15 days left before I leave for Arizona to start medical school! It’s flying by–I feel like I will blink and it will be time to board my plane.
Last night I went through my files; I purged almost everything and organized what I needed to keep. Organization and clutter removal is like my nirvana (yes, that is a strong statement).
But really, it is liberating to simplify my belongings: trash, donate, sell, upcycle, or keep. A de-cluttered area promotes stress relief and clarity of mind. It makes me feel better about relocation and overall more relaxed.
I came across a lot of my recovery worksheets, therapeutic exercises, nutrition plans, affirmations, letters, journal entries, art works, poetry. I found a poem that I wrote about a month before I started what would be a five year journey with a professional intervention team. The poem was written at 5 am on May 4, 2008 and was untitled until now.
The Bittersweet Taste of Nothing
May 4, 2008
My soul should be at rest.
But it’s like a crying baby
seeking protection and nurturing
from a mother who comes to the rescue
Who offers the protection tonight?
He tells me that the taste of nothing in my mouth is sweet success.
Do not worry, he says.
The noise and hunger pains in my stomach are simply the gears grinding in a machine, going for a routine check-up.
This is how perfection is manufactured, a tormenting construction.
ED promises sleep will come when I have a better day.
He believes our relationship does not give him enough attention.
And he hates it, nothing makes him more angry.
Stick with me, ED says
I’ll send you to the stars.
You’ll be so special, my beautiful, little star.
Perfect beyond measure.
ED confidently says that no one knows me better than he knows me.
No one understands, he says.
ED promises to throw me a safety line from others’ ignorance.
They will never understand you; come with me, ED whispers.
We do not have to eat out or focus anything around food, he promises me.
He knows just how I like it.
ED tells me we will dance the night away, burning calories in blissful perfection.
But whenever I dance with ED,
I am dancing on my grave.
It is terrifying for me to publicly publish such a deeply personal poem. Today I destroy my fears by choosing freedom.
“The demon within is you. Until you set it free. Then you will realize it was never really you at all.” -Athenatos