Sometimes life seems like it’s moving in slow motion and everything around you is suspended in air. You can see everybody else move at a normal rate of speed, but for some reason your life is moving slow. Minutes go by like days; hours are a life time; and all you can do is count the time until you’re actually somewhere you want to be. Always looking ahead, always pushing, always looking for that precious minute hand to move forward. What’s wrong with now? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with now, everything. What’s also wrong with now is nothing.
Everything is wrong from the vantage point of the person in a pool of shit up to their chins yelling “don’t make a wave.” There isn’t very many positive outcomes for that person – but at the same time – you have to wonder – how the hell did that person get there in the first place? What decisions were made to make life seem like an endless eddy of shit circles just looking to pull you under? Nasty thought, but that’s sort of what we do with our own minds. We set ourselves into a mind set that will either make shit waves or let us calmly way for this to pass (get it, pass?).
I, on the other hand, never wake up in the morning and think “gee whiz, a dip in the shit pool would be really nice today!” What it really boils down to is that I simply have “episodes” and want to crawl into the shit pool just for the security of it. The familiarity is what keeps me going back, and that’s what it’s like to live your life with an eating disorder. You’re constantly trying to talk yourself out of shit swimming and staying clean and dry. It’s not easy though, I tell you. When your mind starts pumping and that little eating disorder switched gets turned on, it’s almost like you’re magically put into your swim suit and are on a high dive in the deep end of the shit pool. Here comes the swan dive.
The problem primarily with the million mile an hour eating disordered brain is that there isn’t really a speedometer to let you know that you’re approaching the million mile mark. You may wake up and think you’re going the right speed, but before you know it you’re flying along out of control like a car running from the law. You’re on a destructive path of hurt with no sense of self preservation. Let the car explode, let it plow into a tree, let it kill you on impact, a million miles an hour isn’t much fun when you’re the driver. Even the best drivers can’t stand a certain threshold of speed without the proper equipment (like boiling your brake fluid, just because you can get your car going that fast don’t mean that it’s going to consistently stop for you). A million miles an hour, yet everything is moving in slow motion.
That’s where I sit, hiding behind the protective barrier of my computer screen. I can see chaos all around me, papers everywhere, pens everywhere, a piece of half eaten pizza out of the corner of my eye. Million miles a minute – everything flying past you – yet moving in slow motion. Your mind is comprehending every aspect of existence but you body is only focusing on one thing – that pizza. That fucking pizza. There it is, the cure all. Magical piece of pizza, almost like a magic carpet ride. That one piece of pizza can take your million mile an hour mind and bring it to a violent, crashing, halt.
They say it’s not the speed that kills you, it’s the stopping. That’s exactly what it’s like with an eating disorder; you get so used to the feeling of going a million miles a minute and you want to stay that way, the speed soothes, the speed cures, the speed is sexual. It’s interesting how eating disorders can manifest themselves into other forms, and interfere with different aspects of life. When that first eating disordered thought pops up its a sudden jab on the breaks and your speed gets hijacked. Suddenly you’re not in control of the vehicle anymore and you find your mind and body flying into places you don’t want. Violently doing sit up to try to appease the wicked mind, violently throwing up that last box of cookies you ate, violently mentally assaulting yourself because you’ll never be good enough.
Then there is the aspect of going a million miles an hour again, flying in a different direction. Half the time we do this, it’s to get away from our problems. Sometimes it’s all we know. Most of the time it’s just habit, nothing more, nothing less. We’re used to speed, we’re used to violence. We love hate. How do we survive though, how many times has that violent stop threatened to kill us? How many more times are we going to risk it, and more importantly, how many more times can your body actually take it. All things flow on the ebb and flow of some imaginary force. That force is you, you’ve got your foot on the pedal, you’re the one with the steering wheel in your hand. “Where do you want to go today, Mr. Morrison, where do you want to go today?”
This is like a truck with a million miles on it and still running strong. Although it’s got stories that go back decades, the exterior is going to tell stories of a different nature. Bringing the first born child home in the cab during a snowstorm will be trumped by the fact that it’s a little rough around the edges. The little old lady that it pulled out of the ditch story is going to be overtaken by the sagging headliner. It’s what’s on the outside that counts. All things are perspective as to what we see on the outside, not what stories they hold on the inside.
And we think us as a human race is any different? I think not.
This truck has a million miles on it, what do you think of it?