i love scary movies...

...more than i love a lot of things. especially in the fall.

i started thinking about them the other night when i walked into my apartment (yes! my new apartment! pictures soon to come) and it was pitch black dark and i was the only one home and i couldn't find the light switch.

during scary circumstances like the one above or when i'm home alone and something makes a noise or the power goes out, my mind takes off without me (how i wish it wouldn't) and i begin to imagine myself as that stupid scary movie girl who wanders straight into the danger time and again. the one that faces some chainsaw or michetti-clad man a hundred times and still doesn't get that she needs to be careful. the one you get out of your seat and scream at as she wanders into the bathroom and opens the shower curtain instead of just running out the door. the girl who would save herself if she would own up to the fact that there's someone out to get her that she should be scared of and just call the cops for heaven's sakes!

i end up freaking myself out completely, and doing the strangest things like opening every closet door in the house or spontaneously deciding to run errands in case there really is someone lurking somewhere- things i hope no one ever sees me do.

the other day in class, i found myself strangely craving the old comfort of my eating disorder. i remembered the euphoric feeling of sitting in class and tuning out the teacher, planning out each of the few calories i would allow myself to have and when i would have them and how i would make them last across the day.

the craving took me by surprise. i think it was both brought on and perpetuated by my sudden re-immersion in Samford and all its skinny bodies and weight loss chit-chat and perfectionism. it scared me how fondly i found myself thinking of my disorder and how weak truth's typically strong-sounding voice was sounding in my head.

if i quit taking notes right now and started writing down numbers- if i just get lost in a few calculations and figured out how long it would take me to lose 5 or so pounds- that would feel really good, and-

suddenly, i interrupted my own thoughts and began to imagine myself as the dumb actress on the screen. i pictured all my friends sitting there watching me. i imagined the screams and groans of fear and disappointment they would utter as they watched me wander straight into the room with the killer- replacing food groups with vegetables, buying my tell-tale weight loss foods. I could feel the anguish they would feel watching me let go of life once again- especially when all i had to do was walk outside and ask for help instead of going looking for danger alone. i imagined their unavoidable terror- watching me wander through dark rooms in a house with a man with a chainsaw- knowing that there was nothing they could do.

thanks to my wild imagination, i'd gotten a glimpse of what it's been like for my dear friends and for my family. it's been like watching a scary movie, hoping that each bout with my disorder was the last they'd have to watch through covered eyes, that they could sit back and finally watch the happy ending.

i'm not saying that the ending without my disorder will always be happy, but i AM saying that i won't be searching out showers or wandering down dark alleys alone. and no matter how much sense my disorder may make to me, if it puts me in the category of the stupid scary movie girl, and my friends on the edge of the couch watching with clenched fists and jaws, then there's no way that going back to it can help anyone or anything.

and besides, i like the strong woman i've become. i'd like to think that if anyone ever makes my life into a movie, i'll be the woman that fights people off and takes them out- like alias maybe. i would actually be really offended if someone thought that a typical stupid-scary-movie-chick would serve as an accurate portrayal of EA Wade. so i'm not going to live like it would.

love,

EA