Saturday, 24 November 2012

Words.

As I lose weight, I lose words. I forget where I'm going, suddenly stop talking half way through a sentence, and what I'm saying. I write completely different words to what I mean, dependent on outside noise or the inner battle. Recovery Condron could write, could express herself, Anorexic Condron has no idea what what's even going on, most of the time. Conversation feels stilted, like I'm at least half a beat off with every comeback, and even my strongest opinions, even my values and politics, justice and logic, are only half hearted right now because I can't spare the energy or mind space to formulate (it just took me literally minutes to come up with the word 'formulate').

I don't feel a vast amount right now, I'm relatively alright because my weight today was lower than yesterday, and yesterday was lower than the day before, and so on. I hate that. I hate that I'm allowing my day to be dictated by the lump of plastic, glass and metal that inhabits a small square in my bathroom. I hate that I've let myself get ill again, fall for the empty promises of the disorder. I hate my lack of eloquence and I'm starting to understand why the psychotherapy team will only work with me if I'm over a certain BMI (I'm currently just about above it, but I don't know that I can reign it in enough to maintain/gain), 'cause my cognitive skills are already falling apart.

Words are everything to me. The written word is my favourite form of art, and despite not being particularly artistic in that field myself, I'm a true appreciator of the great artists. But I can't even read right now, I'm reading a pretty light book at the moment- -The 100 Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of a Window and Disappeared', which I recommend by the way, it's like a Swedish Forrest Gump, but kookier- but I have to constantly go back to remember how the characters met and what they've done, etc etc. The fine artists are so far above my current intellectual level, my reading age must currently be about 12.

The logical thing is obvious even to me. Eat more; do more; live more. But... I just can't. I need a light at the end of this tunnel, and for it not to be a train.

2 comments:

  1. My boyfriend is reading that book, it sounds really random!
    I hope you feel better soonies xx

    ReplyDelete
  2. I go the opposite of you Rebecca, I eat to cover pain, not too mention everything else I have done... you wouldn't think I was too brilliant... if you knew me. Thank you for the lovely comment on my blog, I am really grateful that we connected.

    ReplyDelete