It’s been a year and a half, but somehow I still find myself thinking of you. Because even though you’ve left me, you are affecting so many other people. People who don’t deserve to have you in their lives. You treat them horribly. You make them question if they like themselves and make them feel worthless. You take up years of their lives – even when they think they are free of you, you show up as an afterthought whenever they have a large meal or catch a glimpse of themselves in the mirror.
When I first met you, I was in sixth grade, and I hated how I looked. I wanted to look like the actresses on television and the models in the magazines. It started with my hair – too short, too frizzy, too unflattering. Then it moved to my nose, my shape, my stomach, my upper arms, and my thighs. And I accepted you into my life without fully understanding the implications of doing so. When I found myself obsessing over food and overexercising, weighing myself and taking constant measurements, researching and looking for signs to confirm that I wasn’t alone, I knew that I was in for it. You weren’t just a “teenage phase.” And although my therapy helped in the short term (postponing your prominent return for five years), you were always that voice making me feel guilty when I ate too much junk food or thought I looked OK. Eventually, I couldn’t distinguish your voice from my own.
When you returned, I became scared. You weren’t in full force yet, and I ran to my parents and doctors and nutritionists before you had the chance. But after a few months passed and I had “recovered,” I realized that I had stayed relatively the same weight. After looking through old pictures and considering my circumstances, I set out to prove to you that I could do better. And I guess you would call it a “success.” But that success came with caveats – my parents were terrified, I lost my family’s trust, I felt distant from my closest friends, I felt that I had no one to talk to except for you, I was cold all of the time, I was dizzy and exhausted from exercising without food, and most of all I was unhappy.
If you or someone you know has an eating disorder, call the National Eating Disorders Association helpline: 800-931-2237.
Why did I let you do this to me? When I was encouraged to recover from friends and family (and eventually from myself), it took months to get back to where I was. And it took even longer to get to a healthy mindset. There are many things that trigger your voice even now – talk about calories or weight, seeing a bad picture, listening to an old song or learning about you in my classes. And you think that you still have a right to stick to all of these men and women who hate you. Don’t you have anything better to do?
I know that I can’t just forget about you, and my experiences are valuable to share with others who are struggling. And so I keep fighting. Others still cringe when I bring you up in person because you’re such a taboo. You kill so many. I was one of the lucky ones.
I am not going to allow you to pull me backward. I know that there are more tough times ahead, but I have the knowledge to face them without harming myself. I am my own best friend, and you have no place here anymore. So feel free to stick around, but you won’t receive anything from me except for a long and persistent fight.
You tried to latch on and become part of me. Then you tried to take away who I was. That time is over. I don’t know how many moments I have left, and so I’m living each day to the best of my ability. So that I can get closer to knowing with full certainty who I am. And to know that you are an illness that holds no power over me.
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Thinkstock photo via pecaphoto77