1.137 – Invisible

When I was seventeen, my mother figured out that I was living with an eating disorder. I don’t say suffering, I don’t say struggling, I don’t say battling. I was living with it. I ate. I threw up. I hovered over the fridge at 3am and engulfed everything in sight only to vomit it in a toilet five minutes later. I’d gotten so good at it, I evolved from using my fingers to just thinking about it.

“Vomit, damn it.”


It was that simple. But I was discreet. Yeah, I’ve always been skinny but at that time, I was convinced I’d only stay that way if I kept my body as empty as my heart felt.

But she figured it out. She sat me down in her poor attempt at being a mother and asked “why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

I never threw up with my mother in mind. I never thought, “this chicken thigh is for you, ma!” I threw up because it felt good. I threw up because I could control something. I threw up because I’d failed at trying to be a cutter so I needed something that was mine. I threw up because I didn’t feel so dirty. I threw up because I was convinced someone would love me if I was tiny. I threw up because  I didn’t have any other great attributes. I threw up because it felt good to flush away garbage and not have to carry it for years on end. I told myself I didn’t do it for her. I didn’t do it because I hated life, the world, myself.

“I just want you to see me,” I replied.



I just wanted her to see me. To acknowledge me. To say I was wanted. To say I was loved. To admit she messed up but she did care. To show one ounce of loving me more than she loved herself. To show some sense of pride in having had me. I wanted her to see me…as something good. She never did.

The story of my mother is a book all on it’s own. One I could not write because it’s one I couldn’t ever reread…relive. Not just for me. For my sisters. For my nieces. For my nephews. For my son. I cannot relive it all. Because poison kills. I made it threw once…just barely. I wouldn’t take my chances with a second go-around.

I haven’t forced myself to throw up in years. I think about it. Sometimes, I know this sounds stupid as all hell, I miss it. But I haven’t. Because I don’t care anymore.

Quite frankly, sometimes, I’d be happier if no one saw me at all.


8 comments on “1.137 – Invisible

  1. This makes me sort of sad. And sort of comforted since I have a flake Ma too. I think you’re a strong, interesting, beautiful person with tons of insight and soul. I like to see you, so stick around kid.

  2. Thank you for that. I hate that so much of my inspiration comes from a woman I have no ties to anymore. And yet, my memories push to be released. More like therapy instead of inspirational reading. Thanks for commenting.

  3. Hey whatever works to get your feelings out there, they really are beautiful thoughts in there, no matter where they originate it’s what you make of it, do with it, or become from it.

  4. Hello Skylah,
    Thanks for visiting my blog and liking my post, “Amazing Grace, Amazing Love”. Of course, there is satisfaction when my work is appreciated but more so, your comment led me to your blog and this post.

    Most of my writings have been inspired from pain that has been handed to me, that should have been love, instead. My writing is a confirmation to myself that I am worth loving and there is hope that one day I will be truly seen for who I am and celebrated. I pray that you will discover that too, that one day you will be seen, valued, loved and celebrated. Because you are worth loving.

    • Thank you. Your work was very well done and something I would enjoy rereading any day. I appreciate you sharing with me on this comment. I hope to feel that way, one day, if not today.

  5. Thank you for posting this. Last year I lost 80 pounds, and lately I have been kind of stuck. I want to lose a few more. My husband made a comment, he didn’t mean it to come out the way it did, but it hurt my feelings when he said “you haven’t lost any more weight lately, have you?” Later that night I found myself thinking back to days when I just threw up whatever I ate to maintain a size I felt was acceptable. And I laid there wondering “could I do that again, would it help?” Heavens NO! Am I crazy that the thought crept into my mind? Then I felt so guilty for even considering that, knowing I would just be crushed to see my daughter do it. Your posts are always so heart wrenching. Thank you for be able to share them.

    • Thank you for sharing your own personal journey. It’s never an easy thing to do. I find that it is always a struggle. When I purged, no one commented. Now, I don’t and people ask me if I’m eating, how did I lose all of my baby weight, I should eat more despite the fact that I actually eat quite a bit. One simple comment can so quickly become the trigger.

  6. Pingback: MrMary’s been Kissed by a Muse and a subsequent Homage « A Spoonful of Suga

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