Becoming transparent

I am trying to become transparent. Literally.  I have this belief, which is crazy I know, that if I just get thin enough I will be able to see deep inside my body and in doing so I will be rewarded. I will discover what it is that comes back in cycles and makes me so unhappy. The secret that is buried there, that makes my existence here on earth seem like a mistake even though the outward appearance of my life is fine, that secret will slowly be uncovered as each layer of flesh is removed, similar to the text revealed as the sand is brushed off of an ancient slab of stone .  Ever since the end of last year, when my internal world slipped once again off of it's axis, I've been whittling my body down. It wasn't intentional at first.  It started subtly, but then accelerated.  Five pounds, then ten, maybe close to twenty.  I don't generally weigh myself, so it's hard to be precise, but it's been significant and I'm a petite person to begin with.  It's not so much about imagining that I am fat, though it would be dishonest to ignore that those voices have returned as well.  It is instead an admittedly twisted need to be solely spirit, to acknowledge no need of the physical.  The answer to my heartache (a pathetic and imprecise word to be sure) is to ultimately disappear entirely.  The reality (absurdity) of this and of the fantasy are completely separate.  As my therapist stated, with a rather sad smile, an answer is not actually etched on my bones. I am not going to be able to see words written there. More concretely, the real world result of becoming so thin that one disappears is death. That is not a sane nor reasonable desire. In spite of that inevitable final destination (or perhaps in longing for.... which is a darker truth), in spite of weekly therapy and medication and frustrated friends and family, I'm holding onto this path of self destruction because a very loud part of my being believes it is the only way to be free of this recurring spiral of shame and loathing.   Maybe there is an answer in the DNA, in the depths of my experience, locked into the bones. Maybe that is why they ache at night, why I struggle to stay still, to spend time at rest.  There is a story trying to come out. And the part of me that lives in the combination of metaphor and body thinks that maybe I can help it by becoming air myself, even if that means I no longer exist.

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I am a dancer. I communicate through my body. It makes a sort of twisted sense to me that I would look to it to find answers to what is wrong.  Movement is the only language that I understand. Shaping and molding my body has defined my entire life. It feels, maybe this is simply an attempt to excuse it, as if I am exploring, using my body in a new way to work through this unnamed unidentified horror that has once again resurfaced. I separate into two people and can defend what I am doing yet I am not blind to the damage I am creating.  I am destroying my health, my relationships, my professional life and reputation. I am also not deaf to the other voice that says that my time here is up, that death and darkness will be preferable to this life that can turn from something manageable and within the realm of normal into an internal nightmare for no discernible reason. 

I am not at a place yet where I have a solution to this (obviously) untenable position that I have put myself in. I don't yet want to give up on the quest for an answer, though this is not a logical path. Logic has never been my forte. For now, I am dealing with the chaos in my mind by pretending that all is normal. I  just get through each day and try to be as honest as possible with myself and with those who are trying to work with me, while attempting to not let too much angst and pain into my relationships with those who are not paid to deal with such things.  It's a funky crazy balancing game, but one that I am (mistakenly?) telling myself that I can play. Like a teenager, I have a belief that I am actually indestructible.  I will work this all out, be thinner than a piece of paper and still go on with my career and life.  I can balance on my toe in a pink satin shoe. Surely that is training to balance between one plane of existence and another......