Feeding The Soul

Starvation is one of the cruelest things you can do to someone. The body literally starts to consume itself to survive — first fat, then muscle, sometimes even heart tissue. Your body becomes both the victim and the source of its own fuel.

It rewires the brain, stops you from thinking clearly. And the cruelest part of all? It’s slow. It’s patient. It takes its time, watching as your body deteriorates — feeding on itself — until your mind no longer has the capacity to snap out of it.

I told my therapist, after I relapsed and started restricting again, that I made a mistake.

She said, “No — you made a choice. You made a choice, for months, to harm yourself.”

That truth knocked the wind out of me. Because she was right.

I had slowly been making choices that led me back here — eating less and less, avoiding people, covering my body, doing my skincare, keeping on chapstick so no one would notice the paleness, the peeling of my skin as I depleted myself. I knew what I was doing. And yes, it was a choice — a choice that felt easier than facing all the thoughts, the fears, the feeling of losing control.

And it’s a choice I carry so much guilt and shame for.

Because the truth is, I punished myself in one of the cruelest ways possible. Why? Because some distorted version of me believed I deserved it.

But I don’t.

So I’m sorry — to myself.

I’m sorry for hurting you, for being mean, for being cruel, for not loving you enough to stop.

I’m sorry to God, for harming the precious soul He placed here to do magical things.

I’m sorry for depriving myself — and the world — of the gifts I have to offer by not feeding my soul.

I’m sorry.