Hugs.

Since I can’t sleep I decided to write down what I’m thinking in hopes that as I lay down my mind will stop repeating scenes.

“I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it so much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.” –Marya Hornbacher ( Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia)

I think of this quote quite often.

Sometimes when I am struggling with my ED, all I want is someone to sit down with me… make me just sit still for one moment and say I am here for you and give me a hug. Even thinking about that makes me cry. Sometimes I think that would make all the difference in recovering.

I have had people- acquaintances, who have giving me a quick hug, which always makes me uncomfortable but that isn’t what I want. A hug is supposed to show someone you care. Now that I’m thinking about it there have only been a few times where someone has hugged me and it actually meant something.

Maybe this is why I miss therapy. Maybe this is why I miss A New Beginning. Even though I wasn’t there for too long I felt cared for. For the first time in a long time I felt as if people cared. They didn’t really know me… but as I told my nutritionist I had to stop going there and I was saying goodbye. She got up and gave me a hug. Not that one arm, as you are leaving, type hugs… she held me tight and told me that she and my treatment team cared. I cried.

I cry now. Thinking the only hugs I have received that have done what they should was by therapists (my first therapist hugged me too which is odd now that I think about it. I told her I didn’t like people touching me.)

Maybe it isn’t even the treatment that I wanted or that I miss. Maybe I miss being cared for.

Hug someone. Maybe it’ll be a difference.