Relapse

Sometimes I miss being sick.

The grimiest part of me wishes I had stayed in that familiar city of gray and mental illness and whatever the opposite of healing is.

Where there was nothing to laugh about, but plenty to write about.

I've considered myself to be recovered from my eating disorder, but I still write about it in present tense.

I also still keep all of my ex's in my contact list.

And for once, I don't want to write about this.

For the first time I am embarrassed, instead of proud of all of the mad things I've done for happiness.

When a friend at dinner makes a casual comment on calories,

The scoreboard in my head illuminates with numbers again.

Once, I cut a ribbon the size I wanted to be and wore it around my waist like a bracelet.

Bathroom scales make me feel nostalgic, like a scrapbook I flip through, snapshots of my sickness.

The suppers of tobacco smoke and red lipstick,

How I used to pack my lunchbox with floss and teeth-whitening strips.

Last night, I painted my nails when I was hungry.

I can't eat until the polish is dry.

I don't want to go into more detail because what if you mistake this poem for an instruction manual?

I don't know how to talk about the rabbit hole without accidentally inviting you to follow me down it.

When recovery is not all yoga mats and tea and avocados, it is work.

It is reminding myself that sucking on ice cubes does not count as dinner.

Body, forgive me.

It is not healthy to drink so much water that your body becomes a bathtub,

your organs floating like loofahs.

Body, forgive me.

Trying to ignore the caloric calculator in my head is like trying to ignore television subtitles and sometimes I just can't.

Body, forgive me.

Recovery is hard work.

Not wanting to die is hard work.

Every time you asked if I was full I heard you say "fat"

but I am trying so hard not to do that.

But I cannot unmemorize the calories of a peppermint.

Wanting to die is not the same as wanting to come home,

and I am still trying to remember that

When the fat gets skinny

*PLAY THE CLIP ABOVE*

When the fat girl gets skinny

The year of skinny-pop and sugar-free Jello cups

We guzzled vitamin water and vodka

Toasting to high school and survival

Complimenting each others thigh gaps

Trying diets we found on the internet

Menthol cigarettes, eating in front of a mirror, donating blood

Replacing meals with other practical hobbies like making flower crowns or fainting

Wondering why I haven’t had my period in months

Or why breakfast tastes like giving up

Or how many more productive ways I could have spent my time today besides 
Googling the calories in the glue of an envelope

Watching Britain’s Next Top Model like the gospel

Hunching naked over a bathroom scale, trying

Crying into an empty bowl of Cocoa Puffs because I only feel pretty when I’m hungry

If you are not recovering, you are dying

By the time I was 16
I had already experienced being clinically overweight, underweight, and obese

As a child, fat was the first word people used to describe me
which didn’t offend me until I found out it was supposed to

When I lost weight, my dad was so proud

He started carrying my before and after photo in his wallet

So relieved he could stop worrying about me getting diabetes

He saw a program on the news about the epidemic with obesity

Said he’s just so glad to finally see me taking care of myself

If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with 
you go to the hospital

If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with
 you are a success story

So when I evaporated, of course people congratulated me on getting healthy

Girls at school who never spoke to me before stopped me in the corridor to ask how I did it

I say, “I am sick.”

They say, “No, you’re an inspiration.”

How could I not fall in love with my illness?

With becoming the kind of silhouette people are supposed to fall in love with?

Why would I ever want to stop being hungry when anorexia was the most interesting thing about me?

So how lucky it is now to be boring.

The way not going to the hospital is boring.

The way looking at an apple and seeing only an apple
not 60 or half an hour of sit-ups is boring.

My story may not be as exciting as it used to but at least there is nothing left to count.

The calculator in my head finally stopped.

I used to love the feeling of drinking water on an empty stomach

Waiting for the coolness to slip all the way down and land in the well

Not obsessed with being empty but afraid of being full

I used to be proud when I was cold in a warm room

Now, I am proud I have stopped seeking revenge on this body

This was the year of eating when I was hungry without punishing myself

And I know it sounds ridiculous but that stuff is hard

When I was little, someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up and I said, “Small.”

But now, i am happier and proud, and proud and happier
And just so thankful to have made out of this
Be happy in your own skin
Love who you are, what you are
You are beautiful.
Because simply, you are you.

When she said "This was the year of eating when I was hungry without punishing myself And I know it sounds ridiculous but that stuff is hard" it is truly hard. To be honest, my condition was bad but i did not seek any help at that time. Time heals and Alhamdulillah im recovering, i start to eat more than what i used to eat before however, i must admit i do still limit my food intake sometimes, my calculator in my brain still do calculate all the calories intake, and when i eat more than usual in a day, i still feel guilty and punished myself. 

I wonder, will i ever recover completely?

What it's like to have Sickle-cell disease by a 7 year-old child

" I have been hospitalized over 50 times for complications from this disease. To keep it controlled i started having monthly transfusions. After repeated transfusions, my body began to get too much iron so I had to start getting infusions. I took desferal which my mom had to insert a needle i my belly hooked up to a pump which i had to carry on my back in my neat Spiderman backpack. I was hooked up to the machine for 10 hours a day 5 days a week but it was okay, I still got to play!

I suffered from pain crisis which makes my legs and back hurt like someone is hitting me with a hammer. You may notice that I may move slow or look tired when it is time for my blood transfusion. That is because the transfusions are like a heartbeat for my body, without it i cant survive. When im in pain, the only thing that helps is morphine.

And every time when my mom cries when she looks at me, i'll tell her "I WILL BE OK" even though i know i will never be a normal healthy person."

Evening Thoughts

Hi lovely readers, its pretty amazing how my life wasn't that bad. Yes i agree, there were times when things went all wrong but when you recall back, your happy moments outweigh your bad moments, that is something you should be thankful for.

Yesterday, my friends and i had a chit chat about our past life and what are we going to do with our future. It suddenly became a very emotional session where we felt like tears streaming down our cheeks and we were out of breath. Being a doctor is such an honor job in this world if you really do what a doctor supposed to do. But i don't know why, I felt like i don't rank a doctor as high as i ranked it when i was in the secondary school. Nevertheless, i still you know, still living in this medical field because doing something good is what I search for in this world. Helping people is the best thing you can do.

Life in a med-school wasn't easy. I almost give up so many times. Every day is so packed with things and its like you have no life. (but i do have life) Lets put that aside, even though i messed up my life, when i get a compliment on something i did, all the sadness and the burdens gone. When your efforts are acknowledged, it feels so (i don't know how to describe it). The feeling is like when a patient says thank you to you when all you did was, watch the patient die because he knew that you've tried your best to save him. I want to be a doctor who loves her patients as much as she loves herself. Ya Allah, please guide me through my journey until i meet you in Jannah.