Tonight

I listen to him inhale and exhale. It’s so effortless. The body just does it all on its own. Miraculous. Wonderful. God. “Science,“ he would say.
If I just breathe like him, maybe I will fall asleep. Inhale, exhale, inhale… humph. Boo, hiss, I think as I listen to his quiet nighttime breathing.. Sometimes I feel like he’s teasing me with his talents of falling asleep so easily. He has been known to fall asleep mid-sentence. Being quite funny as he drifts off, falling off several cliffs every night, I have found I it more helpful and less irritating to consider it a small hobby. How many different ways and with what types of interference can my husband fall asleep?

When I realize that it’s been over an hour I make the decision to just get up. I swing my legs over, trying not to crinkle my dyne too loudly and place my feet silently on the floor. Maneuvering my way carefully around the dog’s bed I put my hand on the wall so I will not, once again, hit my shin on the edge of our bed. I have a permanent black and blue football shaped bruise on my shin. It looks fabulous paired with a nice pair of white shorts. Finally, in the dark, I reach the “gaderobe.” That’s what they call a big closet in Danish. My kids tease me and say that I can’t say it right. My oldest says, “gUArd- DER-RO-BA Mom.” I try and try again, but no matter my effort, I fail to impress the master of pronunciation.

I grab my night shirt and quietly close the bedroom door behind me. It’s quiet in the house except for newly hung coffee pot clock on the wall in the kitchen and the sweet sounds of my children sleeping. I look in on each of them. It is thrilling, the effect they have on my heart, upon my soul. I trace my little girl’s nose with my finger. I have always done this since she was a baby and every time I am blessed with her precious smile. I cannot help but be overwhelmed with love and gratefulness.

After I check and re-check on the children, I head for the computer. It’s never any use to lie in bed when I feel this way.

I’ve never been good at falling asleep. It either comes quickly, which happens very rarely, or takes a very long time. Sometimes, like tonight, it happens not at all. So, what do I do with all of those hours of lost sleep? In the past I have just laid awake in bed “counting sheep.” Those sheep are more like my dreams. Dreams of the future, regrets of the past, made up daydreams… the way I would like things to happen. My worst nights are the nights when I can’t break free from the could-have, should-haves. Those nights, I don’t sleep at all and I cry quietly in the bathroom so no one can hear.

Tonight, it’s just a night full of nerves. I am a ball of nerves lately. I’m snappy, irritable, up one minute, down the next. A real ball of fun, let me tell you. But, it’s for good reason. I have an eating disorder and this is my month. I’m going to kick this thing right in it’s most southerly end. It’s been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember and longer than I care to admit. I have given way to much of my time and wasted too much of my life in the fog of it’s anarchy.

It’s the 22nd of May and I have had 18 good days. When I say “good days,” it means that I have completely abstained from all eating disorder related activities. I have eaten at regular times, kept my food in my sweet belly, exercised within normal boundaries of time, and talked about my feelings. It has been sweet hell, to say the least. And if my husband sticks by me, then he is a saint.

On the 24th, I have my big appointment. I have finally been granted an interview with a private hospital downtown that treats eating disordered patients. It is very difficult to get treatment for this disease unless you look like you are on death’s door. I don’t look like that. In fact, most of my family and friends are quite pleased to see that I’ve put on quite a bit of weight. They think, just because of that, I am better. But, the fact is, I’m worse. My disease just jumped tracks is all. I went from the anorexia, to the bulimia. It took a while for the bulimia to take hold, but once it did, it was not letting go. I feel like bulimia is worse. Did I think anorexia was worse before? Do I have more right to say that now that I’ve had both? Hmm.

May 24th. What will they say? I am scared. I am excited. I am nervous. The ED is screaming at me. It says that I will never be able to enjoy food again and I will always have to be on “their diet.” But, I know, after having the clarity that good days afford me, that it’s just a lie. All of what ED tells me are lies. I am scared because it’s the end of something. Who am I, without ED? Does anyone know? I don’t even think my mother knows. And what is that person like? Is she nice? Is she strong or happy? But, as I cry about how sad this is that no one I am close to really knows who I am, and scream because I am scared and so tired of feeling this way, I have look forward to finding that person. So, May is my month and I’m going to find me. I wonder how long it will take.