Losing ...

Succumbing

I want you to know

That I'm not choosing this

I know that there are glimpses

Of me there

But I don't feel like I own

My body

Or my mind

Anymore.

I can't describe how it felt

To sit in that appointment

To listen to the psychiatrist tell me

And my mother

That he recommends

A quality of life based treatment

That I should write a will

That I may have years left

But that it may only be months;

And that I need an advanced directive

For when the time comes

That I will no longer be able

To make decisions for myself

(am I really doing that now?)

In a way

It's a relief

There you go anorexia

You've won

You've got me

You've got my life

You did it.

You've stolen my dreams

Of being a mother

A loving wife

A good nurse

Of laughing with my sisters

Enjoying the people I love

Feeling happy and safe

In my body and mind -

Of living a full and free life.

But there's a tiny voice

Somewhere deep inside of me

That has heard this

As a sort of …

Challenge.

If there's no expectation of getting well

Then I can't fail if I try

But don't make it,

Right?

The question is;

Do I have the strength,

The courage

To summon up

The last of my energy

And give wellness

One more full throttle try?