Monday, March 10, 2014

Why I Sing Like I Can Actually Sing

First off this was the most fun writing that I’ve had in a long time.


You can’t know exactly what it

s like to have an eating disorder until it's happened to you. It's like dying. It's worse than dying, because all you're thinking at the bottom is “when can I die already?” There is no point to life, it's all calories and making it to the end of the day only to start it all over again tomorrow. It’s like the darkness is the light. A fun house full of evil clowns.

It is an abusive relationship. A monster inside of your head. A man that demands his version of perfection and, every time you think you've satisfied it, pushes for more. Be smaller. Be the smallest. Disappear. And you think, this could be paradise, this could be a good life, if only you could escape.

And you can either give in and die, or you can break away. You can break away. Because you’re a fighter. You deserve to break away, because you’re beautiful, even if you don’t know you’re beautiful. Never forget that you’re worth it and I’m here for you cheering for you every step of the way because you can do it.

It’s not easy, in fact it sucks. You know you’re doing the right thing but it’s like you’re falling to pieces because you don’t know what you stand for and the future is unknown and you don’t know who you are without the disorder.
But you’ll figure out that you’re not broken, just bent.

And then you start to feel again. You’ve gone so long without proper emotions, so long living a monotonous specter of a life that it all hits like a tidal was drowning you and you start to wake up and realize that everything has changed.

Except music. Music is still there and music will always be there. And music puts into words what you cannot. Through it, you can express your emotions. Like somebody takes your hand and leads you through the maze of highs and lows and simultaneously laughing and crying, terrified exhilaration, and soul-rending love. A whirl of colors that has stopped spinning so you can finally see them for what they are, and mix them and complement them and swirl them into a beautiful portrait of life. It’s hard to remember the people we used to be, but the music helps us remember.

It gives you hope, it makes you sad. It takes you to new places and gives you new inspiration. It makes you think of seasons or dreams or friends or family. It makes you laugh and cry and grin like an idiot.

So yeah. I roll my windows down and sing to my steering wheel. Really loudly. Because everything that is bottled up inside me, everything I don't know how to release, finds voice in the lyrics and the beat and the (bad) dancing I do while I sing.

Because my recovery is a series of songs. Beautiful, dark, haunting, sad, joyful songs and combined together they make the best song ever because they tell my story, the story of my life. And I wouldn’t know how to describe it any other way.

Do you see what I did there? ;)
(Click the links)