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Ed Quotes

Browse 24 quotes about Ed.

Ed Quotes

“It's like a stomach ache after not eating for five days. The muscles are starting to eat themselves, and you couldn't care less. It's about holding on to every moment with every ounce of your being, every atom. It's about memorising every expression, the way your muscles work, the way you speak, how your voice sounds during every part of the day. It's about not feeling the goodbye in every kiss, in every hug, in every touch. It's about trying to keep your voice steady even with a knife to your throat. It's August and I'm tired of being strong. I never really was very brave. Throw me on sharp edges, I've never felt so destructive.”

MissingDepressionHeartbreakMental HealthHeartacheEating DisordersAugustAnorexiaGoodbyesEd
Book:Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps
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“It's 4am again and I'm just getting started. People are boring and I want to burn with excitement or anger and bleed, bleed through my words. I want to get all fucked up and write real and raw and ugly and beautifully. I bet you're sleeping safe and calm, and you can stay there, it's safer there, and you wouldn't stand one night on this journey my mind wanders off to every night you close your eyes. I'll stay here one day and I will never come down. I promise I can fly before I hit the ground. It doesn't even hurt anymore. I swear, it doesn't hurt.”

ArtBeautifulPoetryArtistHurtSleepUglyBoringExcitementArtistsSleepingSelf DestructionFlyHurtingSelf HarmEdJournalsSelfharmSelfdestruction
Book:Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps
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“En dat was precies de vruchtbare bodem die mijn eetstoornis nodig had om zich te beginnen ontwikkelen. Ik was extreem onzeker, had ernstig trauma doorstaan, vergeleek mezelf continu met mijn klasgenoten, had last van een verlammende mate van perfectionisme, had gaandeweg een intense zelfhaat ontwikkeld en walgde van mijn eigen lichaam. Niet lang daarna begon ik mijn lunch op school weg te gooien. Weer wat later stak ik voor de eerste keer mijn vinger in mijn keel. En zo evolueerde mijn eetprobleem tot een eetstoornis, die elke dag een beetje meer grip op me kreeg.”

AnorexiaEating DisorderEdBinge Eating DisorderEetstoornisEetgestoordHoofdzakenMentale GezondheidPsychische GezondheidBoulimia
Author:Charlotte Simons
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“Toen ik heel, heel diep in mijn eetstoornis zat en geplaagd werd door een zware depressie, was mijn allergrootste angst om vermist te raken. Niet omdat ik bang was dat iemand met onzuivere intenties mij wat aan zou willen doen. Dat zou me werkelijk aan mijn reet roesten. Nee, mijn grootste angst was dat er vermissingsposters zouden worden verspreid, met daarop de tekst: 'Vermist: Charlotte Simons. Roepnaam Lotte. 17 jaar, groene ogen, lang, sluik zwart haar. 1,85m lang, lichaamsbouw: morbide obees.' Dat de rest van de wereld mijn eetgestoorde zelfbeeld eens en voor altijd zou bevestigen. Dat dat ‘verstoorde lichaamsbeeld’ dat ik in de spiegel zag, waarvan mensen in mijn omgeving me zo bewust hadden proberen te maken, eigenlijk gewoon realiteit bleek te zijn.”

Eating DisorderEdEetstoornisEetgestoordHoofdzakenMentale GezondheidPsychische Gezondheid
Book:Eetgestoord
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“But who am I if I'm not Janie the bulimic? Bulimia has become so much a part of me that I can't remember what it felt like not to purge. It's been this secret that I have hidden from my parents and my friends (well, except for Nancy) and the rest of the world. It's the way I can let off the pressure of always feeling like I'm not smart enough, I'm not thin enough, not pretty enough, not funny enough, just plain not enough enough.”

Eating DisorderBulimiaEdPurge
Book:Purge
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“Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me—little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again. It will always be spring again. And there will always be a new day.”

ArtInspirationHappinessJoyHopeSoundHurtMusicFocusSadnessSkyTearsFineBalanceLoversWalkingGratitudeSadAnxietySpringSingingOkayMadnessGratefulMental HealthDrinkingAlcoholCoffeeLovelyRecoveryWell BeingWellnessSmokingHopefulHopelessPanicFlowersCryingStarvingNew DaySelf DestructionSingSongsSelf HarmPanic AttacksChestEdPanic AttackParkA New DayBe Okay
Author:Charlotte Eriksson
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“It was as though they knew me well by now, despite knowing barely anything about me. It was as though you could know a person without knowing the details of their life. You could know their light, because you shared the same light, the way I’d known the prayers the night before without knowing I knew them. I had never imagined this kind of warmth could be so safe, abundant. I’d spent so much time cutting and carving away at myself, worshipping cold. I feared that light and warmth were a trick, a tease, false offerings that lured you into relaxing, and just when you made yourself vulnerable, they would be seized. Better to adapt to the cold. Better to thrust the cold on oneself. Be prepared. Yet with the Schwebels it was so easy. The light was sustained, plentiful. It wasn’t going anywhere. And so I ate what I wanted, when I wanted, maybe even overindulged compared to what a normal person would eat. I wasn’t sure exactly what that was yet, to eat normally. But I feasted on the food and the warmth, the cozy togetherness, and I realized that the food itself was only one part of what a person needed in order to be sustained.”

LightFamilyFoodFound FamilyEd
Book:Milk Fed
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