Day 27

27. Create a letter of everything you would write to your eating disorder as if it were a real life person.

Dear Ana

I’ve known you for quite some time now, and you’ve gotten way too involved in my life. Our paths need to be separated. They crossed a long time ago and have kept on crossing ever since, but now it is time for that to stop. Everything gets born and everything dies, our relationship included.

I thought you were nice. I thought the things you said were true, but things are changed now. I’ve realised what you’ve done and have been doing. You’ve messed with my head, making me belief all this bullshit of yours. “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” you say? Well I know what tastes better! LIFE! Life tastes better than striving towards perfection.

I am so irritated, frustrated and desperate because of you that I don’t know where to start expressing my real, true feelings. But I am also thankful. I am thankful for the kilos you’ve made me lose. But then again, that might be you messing with my head again. Get out, get out, GET OUT!

You came because I lacked control. Because I lost control, you decided to pop up again and save the day. Except all you did was making it tough, in another way than before, but tough. You saved my life. You saved me from killing myself. You made me feel a bit better with every kilo I lost, but it was never good enough. 17 kg. You took 17 kilos away from me, but I still didn’t get me to the underweight category measured by BMI. You got me to 18,7. And I know that frustrates you as it was SO close! Half a kilo more and we would be UNDERWEIGHT again. A little over three years ago, you got me to BMI 17,7 and of course that wasn’t low enough for you, but back then I fought against you. I had the energy and will, but you never really left. I didn’t get professional help later on as I was way too fat to be suffering from such a demon like you in my head. And whenever I brought you up with anyone, they just looked the other way. I tried to tell them about my experience with you in the past and how the thoughts still hunted me, but they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t take it seriously. You hid in the back of my head, getting ready for a backfire, which eventually came.

You don’t want me to talk. You don’t want me to tell anyone as it is “our little secret”. It is embarrassing to tell anyone that you actually are a voice, because I feel that by admitting that I am admitting that I am crazy. Hearing voices isn’t normal, it is the opposite of normal.
I get super nervous when I talk about you because you are there, in my head, screaming at every word I say. I want you to get lost. I want you to leave me alone, for once.

I want my period back (surprisingly). 3 years of irregular or none menstruation is a long time. Now it has been… I don’t remember how long, since I got my last monthly menstruation.  But to illustrate it a bit: After I started recovery (July 2013) I should have gotten my period 5 times. I’ve had it 2, each one for not even a day. I don’t even know if it can be counted as menstruation. 

You’ve taken so much away from me: my womanhood (haha), my ability to socialize without being super awkward, my few friends I had, the spark in my eyes, my happiness, so much excitement towards things like Christmas, birthdays etc. You’ve taken away so many possible good memories and replaced them by memories of tears, desperation, head hanging on the toilet seat, exhausted after stuffing my fingers literally down to the larynx and pressing my stomach up to my lungs.

But you’ve given me so much as well. You’ve given me people who care. You’ve given me so many really good friends, two that I can define as best friends. You’ve brought my family closer to me, supporting me and showing me that they care. You’ve made me and my grandma have a better relationship, and showed me that she and I are really much alike, more than I could ever imagine. You’ve made my other grandma and I so much closer and I can proudly define my grandma as one of my very close friends.

Inside my head, you’ve made my life miserable. But outside, in the real world, you’ve made me realise that I’ve got people around me that love me (or well, you’ve made them show me that they care).  And that messes really with my head because I start questioning if I get healthy, people will stop caring. They will stop noticing me. Stop loving me. I don’t want that. But I don’t want you either. I am afraid that I will lose my support and end in the same black hole as I was in 6 months ago. I want to thrive, but I also want to survive. That’s the problem.