I've done nothing with my life because I'd rather be unwell
I reconnected with two old friends yesterday, I'd not seen them or spoken to them in almost three years. The three of us spoke over a group chat for a little while, updating each other on everything we'd done since we last saw each other.
One girl had just bought a house with her long-term boyfriend, she rambled slightly about curtains and wallpaper and she complained about the stress of dealing with solicitors. Still, she was happy.
The other girl had a quiet, courthouse wedding, and moved across the country with her husband to start the university course she'd always dreamt of. The course she'd been rejected from when I knew her.
Then, it was my turn to provide an update. Just a little commentary on my life. I stared down at my phone's keyboard until the letters blurred. A thought I'd barely dared to entertain was now front and centre of my mind.
I have done nothing with my life.
I've merely existed, I've haunted my parents' house for years now, when originally, moving back home was only supposed to be a temporary thing. I'm like an unspoken secret, an elephant in the room. My life hasn't evolved and I've remained stagnant. Few friends, no relationships. Trapped in the mind of a teenager, as I repeat the same actions I've always known. If it's not restriction, it's binge eating, or it's purging, or it's cutting, or it's drinking, or it's restriction. Round and round we go. How do normal people manage to keep all of their plates spinning at once?
I have no hobbies. That's not entirely true. My eating disorder is my hobby. Sometimes it might be all I know.
Still, I manage to paint my face on, paint my smile on, and drag my body to work every day. Pretending is exhausting, so it's a relief to retreat back to familiarity, be that with food or the bottle.
So, as I stared at the keyboard, urging my brain to conjure up something I've done in the last three years, I realised there's nothing. There's nothing to say and it's all my fault.
So I threw my phone at the wall and crawled back into bed. I'll try getting better tomorrow.
Nashville chicken sandwich and some blackberries