Let me push (an ED poem)

*Trigger Warning*

I dont think theres a good way to say that you skipped class because you kind of want to die but not really.

And I don't think there's a good way to say that 9 years later Im still in the same place.

My body was born unable to function. 10 weeks early and a machine had to breathe for me

By the time I was 2 I was considered caught up to my peers

My mother didnt agree

PT, OT, Speech language pathologist, psychiatrist, nutritionist

Insurance paid, and I was presented.

By 3 my mother put me in ballet.

Its what all little girls want.

Shell learn to be pretty.

The thing they dont tell you about ballet is that it only looks pretty.

By age 7 I was in classes twice a week.

By age 10 it was four times a week.

By 13 I cant remember when I wasnt there.

Pointe shoes, ribbons, leotards, tights, bobby pins, barres, mirrors

I hadnt spent a birthday outside of the studio in years.

And then. Well. Puberty happened.

My legs increased at a speed that seemed like I was in Wonderland

Something not quite real but the doctors measuring tape did not lie

Soft curves replaced hard lines and I didnt know how to handle it

My body, this body, betrayed me like it had been doing for years.

When you spend your day looking in a mirror your reflection eventually starts talking back

Look at her. Youll never be like her.

Didnt this fit last week. What happened. Quit pulling on the straps

Madame is looking. Up up up higher tight dont fall what are your fingers doing.

At 13 I broke up with myself.

My own body became a battleground of control.

Dont eat this, do one more, make it perfect.

I rid myself of my insulation. It made me hot and cold.

Mama never pushed.

Madame never pushed.

But when you have to fit the costume to get the role you find a way to make it happen.

Red lipstick, winged eyeliner, mascara too thick for my age

Hairspray, being sewed into a costume, a scream from across the room to turn out our legs damn it

You can bleed, but dont let it show. And dont you dare ask to take a break.

There are no participation trophies in ballet

At 16 I went to school online and danced the days away.

At 18 I started my career

At 18 I went to the hospital.

PT, OT, Speech language pathologist, psychiatrist, nutritionist

Learning to swallow a dozen pills at a time

My childhood was repeated in a way that was too real

I was born dysfunctional.

I learned how to hate myself, how to hate the body I came in, how to break up and break myself.

I am the only one I know who prides herself on being the lowest

Weight. Calories. Energy. Percent body fat.

And this disorder isn't pretty.

Hair comes out.

Bruises form.

Teeth are damaged.

Metabolism is ruined.

I still dont know how to get back together with myself

Its not as easy as an apology text and a nice date.

The body learns years of self hate and there is nothing more natural to me than smiling a little harder and pushing myself a little farther.

So let me push. Just a little more.