Lunamosity.
Reading my mother’s blog hurts me so much. I want to kick and scream and cry.
She talks about my eating disorder a lot. She relates, she empathizes and she worries.
But most of all, she compares it to her own disorder.
She notes how I am getting thinner while she is getting fatter; she wonders whether or not she should help me, or ignore me for her own sanity.
I never realized how much my problem affected her.
Part of me is very angry that it does… this is my issue, back off. You have your own shit.
And part of me wants to hold her, rock her back and forth and tell her that it’s okay to be sad. And that I’m sorry that my struggles are reminding her of her own pain.
As always, I am torn in two.
As always, I will not tell her what I am thinking.
