I’m sitting on my bed at the moment, casually eating chocolate, yoghurt and an apple for dinner / supper (I’ve been sick this week, no judgings!) thinking about the exam that I really need to be studying for that’s occurring tomorrow but getting epic urges to be blogging and song-writing and laying down horizontal in my bed sleeping away festy infections – so I’m shoving the studying and the sleeping aside for the next half hour or so and getting rid of the writing cravings and dropping chocolate crumbs on my laptop in the meantime.
Oh, by the way. This is one of those epic, ranty, stereotypical “I hate ye eating disorder!” *waves fist angrily* letters, yeah. Grab your own chocolate and make sure you’re comfortable and your brain is in gear – blog post may contain ramblings and chocolate crumbs and a wee bit of joy and perhaps a pinch of sadness.
Dear Conquered Eating Disorder,
My favourite thing about writing this letter is that I get to say that you are “conquered”. It’s quite appropriate actually, because you are indeed conquered! I’ve been eating disordered free for half of this year and really tend not to think much about you these days – and generally speaking, I quite like my body shape and weight and I really don’t care what you have to say about either of those things anymore – and I tend to ignore you when you rear your nasty little head.
For awhile there though, I guess you thought you had me beat, hey? Not eating, laxatives, purging, overexercising, walking around in a constant daze thinking about food and ditching uni to swim a few kilometres in the pool: I bet you thought you had me cornered. Oh, I’m sure it gave you such a thrill to see me fall behind in my HSC year just because exercise happened to be more important to you than study. I bet you loved seeing me run to the scales and beat myself up if it had gone up even 100g. And I bet you loved even more so the inevitable binge, the fall from “perfection” and the slow trudge back to the top. The lies, the deceit, the constant need to have the scales somewhere nearby, the fidgeting, counting those bites of apples and counting almonds and counting my steps and counting minutes in the shower and striving to be perfect in every possible way, watching people eat all those “bad” foods and feeling somewhat superior, the self-doubt, the sadness, the anger, the lack of tears, the raw throat, the screwed digestive system, the lack of mr monthly man, the pinching of fat on thighsandribsandarmsandanklesandwrists oh how I bet you enjoyed the slide down.
And oh damn, how hard you fight back. How hard you lash out when someone decides that you are to be beaten. How cruel you are to plant thoughts and false accusations into innocent minds. To say one didn’t “go far enough”, perhaps. That maybe I wasn’t good enough at my eating disorder. That I wasn’t thin enough, that I could have gone further, that all of this weight gain will just add to the endless reasons why I am despised, why I am disliked. How bad I am to like food, to crave food, to need food. How bad it is to want – or perhaps okay for others, just not okay for ME. That I am somewhat inadequate compared to others. That I must begin to restrict again; to fade again – that I must go to even greater lengths so no one is able to find out that you indeed are still in existence. How dishonest you are.
Dearest eating disorder that-actually-doesn’t-exist-these-days: you are beaten. You are beaten by One who is greater than me. You are beaten by the One who has rescued me from your slimey, dishonest and hurtful grip. You are beaten by One who sees me as valuable – infinitely valuable, in fact – and who loved me even long before I knew Him! And He doesn’t care about my appearance, He cares about my heart. It has not been in my own power that I’ve managed to beat you, nor by my strength – but in His, and in His alone.
So, powerless eating disorder – I guess what I’m trying to say is this: you take a lot. You take far, far too much from any individual. No one deserves to have your cruel behaviour apparent in their life, and no one especially deserves to have their life taken by you. You’re basically a jerk and I hope you crawl into a hole and choke on a fur-ball. Delicious.
No longer yours (but still rather sincerely),