Well, it's that time of year again...

During the mid-August through November 13th, I am usually a wreck. It is also during this time that I withdraw from those around me, the burden I carry gets a bit heavier during this time of year. I do and say things I wouldn't normally. I become a bit apathetic and I close myself off. I never mean to hurt anyone but I know I do, especially Melissa. She loves me more than any person on this planet ever has. And when I pull away during this time of year she is always there when I reappear November 14th. And we pick up right where we left off.

It has been my experience with people in my life who cannot fathom my mental illness and until this passed year, neither did I. I could always say to myself, "well, I am lucid, I am aware that I say and do things that seem irrational but I am always in partial control." What I failed to grasp, what I am learning to grasp now, people who are mentally ill cannot always see the life they are in, nor the actions I execute, nor the words I sometimes say in the heat of an episode. I can't always see it. For instance, Melissa commented how much she loathes this time of year because I am such a wreck it sucks the fun and joy out of our time together, sometimes. I said, "well, it will be over soon, right after November 13th." She replied, "No, it goes longer than that." I was stunned, because I had no idea what she meant. I asked her to explain and she said, "You start to change just before August, almost anticipating August. Then when we get to September, you get worse. October you withdraw. November you are still gone. December... well, you start to come back in December. But it goes longer than November and its worse than you understand. But its also ok because we get through it."

I didn't know. I didn't see it. I'm wondering if its just not seeing it or some level of denial. I can work with either one, I can work my way through it and emerge on the other side stronger than I am now. But right now I need to pull away so my heightened senses can rest a bit, so my mind can just bear the weight of the memories its trying hard to ignore, so when I resurface I can be a better wife and friend.

She needed to stay fat

The spoon rest lazily in her hand, the heavy side resting on her middle finger, her thumb casually keeping it from hitting the plate. She could feel crumbs lay upon her chin while grease coated the corners of her mouth. Her stomach felt extended and painful as the lasagna and burgers and tacos and lots and lots of water sloshed unrelenting against the lining. It was all she could do not to vomit. She wasn’t a purger, she was a binger. She binged to release the pain in soft burps, to fill the void of never knowing herself, to stay as fat as possible to keep hands at bay.

She ran her tongue along the corners of her mouth tasting the remains of the dishes she made a few days ago, maybe a week ago, maybe a month, who’s to say? It was an examination of self control and retribution for being born into the skin surrounding her. She could still occasionally feel her father’s prodding her for pleasure and each time those memories skimmed her brain, she would fill her stomach.

Each spoonful took her further up into the stratosphere, far above the sneak attack from the memories, she would hover in the high, in the sway of the air cradling her as the food took her apart, piecing back together into grotesque fat, blubber, thick thighs, sagging breasts, double chin, and a large ass. The last time she could look down and see her feet, she was cresting puberty, by the age of 14 her tender sweet body was gone, hidden in layers of clothing, shame, and a size 20.

30 years later, it was still the same, gorging until the sweat spilled from her skin, making it difficult to hold the spoon, tears streaming down her cheeks as she knew this would not stop anything, it would not prevent the memories, the knowledge she was just a plaything, a temporary stop of sexual frustration for the people who couldn’t stop their own impulses. A true cycle of addiction, no matter what you call them, addiction can strangle the reason out of someone, smother caution until it dies.

She could feign OK during the day, she could avoid eating, stay away from the kitchen while she made her way through the motions of each day, get up, get dressed, drink coffee. But as a vampire knows when the sun is coming, she always knew when night was approaching her, she could feel it stingy her insides, making her wish she didn’t have to feel her body, wishing she could feel something else. As the dark took the world around her, her mouth would water, she would scan her cabinets for something to make that was the worst possible thing to make and eat. She would make food loaded with calories, fat, grease, she would sit and smack her lips, filling her mouth as quickly as it would empty. Shoving mounds of food into her made her feel less tainted, less raped, less wanted. It soothed her. Her full stomach, pressing against her clothing, the salt making her skin tight as her body swelled. It was all a process, an attempt to either feel something else or die.

She needed to stay heavy, she needed to stay fat! That single mantra carried through her day after day until she was put on a medication that actually did what it was suppose to do, but the side effect she did not want, weight loss. When she started taking the little pill to erase her depression, she weighed 300 pounds. Within 5 months, she lost 40 pounds. Then the panic set in. People were noticing she was losing weight, people noticed there was less of her. She couldn’t make them understand that was not a good thing! They wouldn’t hear it. Weight loss is good, they believe that. Society tells everyone being thin is important but they never read the small print of being thin, the small print, the disclaimer that states you will be a victim of rape and sexual assault. You will be gawked at by male privilege. You will be reduced to nothing but a vehicle for taunts and woots, no matter if you want it or not. Visual rape is as real as physical rape. She needed to stay fat because she had been a victim of all of that.