At times I wonder if it is ever possible to be totally free from the ties to the mirror, to break completely free and never look back. How many years down the line is that, in that case? Do I even want to forever completely sever the ties, if I can? They say it takes as long to be free as it took to hit rock bottom, and in that case I have many more years to slowly break the chains, one link at a time.
Most of the time it really isn't on my mind. I can look in the mirror and appreciate what I see without feeling the slightest desire to step back, not even the smallest inkling to step on the scales. Other times I am curious and hear the siren's song again. Quietly and from far, far away, like fairy music in my dreams. But I hear it, and if I listen to it, give room to the oh so quiet voice from the other part of me, that part that has shrunk, almost into oblivion, but is nevertheless always with me, a part of me; if I listen to that voice, to the alluring lilt in its seduction, I know it will grow stronger. It has no hold over me, not yet anyway, but can I safely say that I will never give it hold over me? No. I'm being honest here: I will always be able to choose to go back. I don't know what it would take to push me into making that choice, and it won't be one easily, casually made, but the choice remains. I have too much to lose to want to take the risk, now, although I sometimes wish I didn't have to feel this much.
But there is a middle ground, between being completely outside of the mirror and being inside it, and I am playing in that area, sometimes comfortably far away, sometimes challenging myself to step just a bit closer to that smooth, shiny surface. You know you want to... And yes, I do. I want to be able to have one foot in the mirror and still be free. I want to eat the cake and not eat it; I want to be healthy and yet slightly less than healthily slim. Not unhealthy, but just not normal, average. I want it all, the drama, the high, the rush, the feeling of pushing boundaries, and still be sane, focussed and able to lead a normal, happy life. Impossible? Hrmph! Impossible is nothing. I.e. it shouldn't be impossible; it doesn't have to be, does it?
I do miss the drama a bit. Not that I'm a drama queen, because it was always my hidden, secretive inner drama. A bit of Sturm und Drang in the Good Girl's dull life. OK, so I'm not as good a girl any more, and there's definitely room for passion, drama, a spicier life, and it's not usually that dull, either. But occasionally, I miss the internal drama and the secret life. And I still fear normalcy, whatever that is. I don't want to be normal if it means being average, mediocre, mainstream, like everyone else, invisible. That's not me. They tell me I'm anything but invisible, but then how can I feel so invisible?
So I play with the mirror, test the strength of my ties to it, see how far I can push the boundaries before I feel its pull, before I start seeping into it. This is nothing new and not entirely conscious, but I've become aware that this is what I do. About a year ago I felt that I was too big, and decided to lose a bit. Nothing much, just a bit. And slowly, oh so slowly, I have. No dramatic changes, in spite of the tough times with an unwanted pregnancy and a manipulative man in autumn, in spite of the constant stress of money and work (or no work). I haven't given up eating, given in to dieting, or to compensation/purging behaviours. Still go to the gym too seldom for the membership to really pay off. But it's in my mind, and it's been there on and off, like an undertone or a subaudible, hidden track in my thoughts. And it's summer, and I'm under a lot of stress, feel emotionally exhausted and low, and that always affects me somewhat.
For a while, a week or so in May, I thought I might choose that path again, when the weight thoughts were stronger than in many years after I'd had to weigh myself at my GP's before an asthma exam, but I held back and worked with the thoughts and why they had appeared so strongly. I was proud of myself for that. I am in control, I choose what to do and will not give in to any fearful thoughts. But the fact remains: I have lost, willingly, even though I have been more or less happy with how I look for months. I can look in the mirror and be happy, satisfied. This is new, I never felt that before I broke out of the mirror. I can actually say that I look good and feel beautiful. Not every day, not all the time, but often enough. And yet... Do I think I look better when I am slightly smaller? (Not obviously underweight, unhealty small, but just a little bit less than average.) I don't know, I really can't say. But here is enough (another new thought). I don't want my breasts to shrink, because I've lost half a cup size and I like my breasts! So no more. That's what I say. Now, the test is whether I will stop and just stay here. That is where I know the game is, the challenge of whether or not I have stepped ever so slightly back into the mirror's shadow.
Let's see. For now, anyway, I am still my own and in control of my behaviours, and I have no intention of giving that control over to the darker part of me, to the mirror girl...
~L~
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