Several weeks back, in art therapy, I drew my eating disorder. It had a butterfly coming off the front, hanging down in front of my face, that signified all the beautiful lies my eating disorder tells me. Last week in art therapy, I made this big butterfly out of clay (about a foot across) and last night I painted it. I used some of my favorite colors, blue and pink and pearl. I painted it gold so it would be flashy and pretty. I wanted it to look like something I would want. I wanted it to truly represent the desires that I have to reach out for that butterfly. To embrace it. To look only at what my eating disorder claims it can offer me.
This morning, I took it outside and I smashed it. I actually used that knife sharpener that’s in the picture because I wanted to stab it, but not with something sharp like a knife. That seemed dangerous. So I stabbed it repeatedly with the knife sharpener. I found it strangely satisfying to watch the pieces of the wings crumble and break apart. It felt somehow freeing. Like, “No, I’m not going to listen to your lies anymore! I’m going to live according to my values, and my values don’t align with the lies you were feeding me.” I feel like if I can stop looking at the butterfly, I can see the eating disorder for the hideous monster that it really is. Goodbye, butterfly.