there isn't a way to accurately demonstrate on this site what dancing has meant to me. some of the best moments of my life occurred either during or after physical exertion (dancing or running) - always alone. when i think about what i might have left to do that keeps me from killing myself, i think it's possible that i want to reconnect with the feeling of aliveness and uniqueness i experienced when dancing - as fully as i can imagine i'm capable of, once before i die.
somehow, i wanted there to be some way to share this feeling with another person, but maybe it was only ever meant to be a solitary thing. my writing is so lacking in passion compared to the dancing i used to do. i don't know if anyone who's only known me through what i've written could believe the abandon and frenetic energy i've been capable of in the past when i danced..
it is always so difficult for me to communicate with people. writing or talking is always so messy, there are always so many loose ends left hanging, so many contradictions, that it is impossible to stay on top of them all.. whereas when i danced it felt as if all the pain and suffering in life was transcended, or translated into something beautiful. i felt more myself.
it has usually been too difficult to generate the motivation to get my body into the kind of condition that would make it easier for me to express myself through dance in the way that i want. one reason for this was/is.. bulimia. it's an excruciatingly draining pastime, both mentally and physically. yes, for most of my life i've been unhappy with my weight, my body, and yes, the bulimia is partly about wanting to control these things, but i first began vomiting in order to relieve extreme physical discomfort. i was so anxious that i'd eat to the point of pain. dancing is easier, i feel more graceful, and the lines i can create with my body are much more esthetically pleasing when i'm lighter, but i don't think bulimia has ever really helped me to be happy with, or to feel that i have much control over, my body's appearance. when i'm caught up in the gorge/purge cycle, i feel out of control.
bulimia is a coping mechanism that has had serious repercussions. it's an addiction. all energy is directed into perpetuating a behaviour which is supposedly a way to relieve stress, but ends up adding to the stress and sapping energy. i've done a lot of humiliating things in order to make it possible to indulge in this behaviour, even though i've wanted desperately for it to stop. often, it seems like all i can think about is food. maybe the purpose of being caught up in this has been to keep me preoccupied and hoping, (thereby prolonging my life) when the reality is that because of the proportions of my body, even at its best it will never look as i want it to look.
for so many years, it seemed that i was always saying ok, this is absolutely the last time, after this i will eat normally, i will try to go after the things i want in life (actually, to some extent i think i still think this way).. and sometimes i'd do ok for a while, but inevitably i'd relapse and get stuck in binge/purge hell for endless amounts of time. i don't think there is any way it can be solved indefinitely. i'd need things to try for in life that would replace the behaviour, and i honestly can't see anything i want that much. dancing wasn't enough. bulimia gives me more of a feeling of release than anything else can. it's my comfort/compensation for not being good enough at anything.
when living alone, i tend to fall into a pattern of going longer and longer without any food at all. at times when living alone i have become quite thin. when living with someone, it becomes evident that it's not a good idea to keep certain foods around, because they will disappear alarmingly quickly. there are very few "safe" foods that can be stored where i'm living.
sometimes i long for the release of engaging in the binge/purge behaviour constantly, even though giving in usually leads to self- disgust, physical discomfort and a feeling of hopelessness. stress, bordeom, sexual repression, anger, etc, can all trigger the behaviour.
when i was younger, i felt that i was starving for unusual experiences and for feedback and knowledge, and that consuming large quantities of food somehow represented an attempt to fill the empty places in my life.. the curiosity is long gone, but i'm left with inexpressibly strange, vague, contradictory needs that i haven't much hope of fulfilling. i think that bulimia simply distracts me from killing myself..