Showing posts with label eating disorders poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eating disorders poetry. Show all posts

Eating Disorder Poetry: Eat, Please Eat.























Eat
Please eat
Let your body live
I know your mind is messy
I know the scale is hurting you        
Just eat
Eat
Let your self love
I know it feels like the end
I know you want to see bones
Eat ok?
Please just eat
Your bones will still be there
I promise they won't be crushed
I promise the fat won't hurt you
Eat
Put the food in
Let yourself smile again
Let yourself laugh
Stop starving
Eat
Deep down there is a little girl
She grew up way too fast
Let her out
Eat
She is starving
Under the fragile bones         
Under the bruises
Please eat
Eat
She needs you
You see her in pictures and dreams
She doesn't care what size her hips are
Eat
Pick up the fork
Let yourself fight
Let yourself have dreams
Eat     
Keep it down
Fight to live
Fight to follow your dreams
Fight for the self that wants to live
Let go
Eat
Written by Aria

Reader submission

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picsourcehttp://www.flickr.com/photos/octarina8/8182017513/

1993: An Eating Disorders Poem
















1993

 Has it been that long?

The miles I ran then,
 to burn off the
 smidgen of cookie that I
 failed to purge back up.

The hammer that rested
against my heart
heavier by the hour
as I climbed through life.

The salt and vitamins
and fluids my body lost
12 times a day.

The grief I lacked the
courage to stare down.

The humiliation
and relief,
when finally caught
in the act.

The help I got
and didn't know I deserved.

The work and sweetness of life.

By: Dana Esau


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Silent Scream: Eating Disorders Poetry


















Warning: Poem may be triggering

Silent Scream

She’s convinced herself she can’t be loved
So she starves herself away
Ana promised to be her friend
And now she’s here to stay.

Each night she stands before the mirror
And runs her hand along the bones
You’re worthless and disgusting
The voice inside her drones.

Ana made her a deal
A way out of what others thought
A way to escape reality
For that’s what she truly sought.

The only thing she grew to care for
Was the counting in her head
Should no one bother saving her
Soon she will be dead.

It started out as a way for control
But now Ana stole that away
The number flashing on the scale
Controls every moment of everyday.

She wishes for someone to save her
From this never-ending hell
She’s tried to silence the voice in her head
But Ana just starts to yell.

Eyes closed tightly to shut out the world
She prays to disappear
A voice unheard, unheeded
A scream no one can hear.
By: Maggie Saunders

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picsource: http://www.flickr.com/photos/skeletalmess/5805022098/

I Threw Out My Scale: How One Woman Found Freedom


















I stood nervously in front of my father so he could get a better look at me. He said I should go put on some black jeans so my ass woudn‘t look so fat. I changed right away because a fourteen year old girl needs to make her daddy happy. She also needs to look thin enough to walk around in the world okay. I would do what I could. Through the years sometimes I was skinny, sometimes I was fat, always I was insecure and angry. This went on until I was in my late thirties.

Finally I got sick of putting my life on hold while I mostly failed at trying to keep my weight down. There were other things I wanted to do besides being fixated on fat. I wanted to be happy and my body obsession made me utterly unhappy. It just never delivered. I had to make a change and since my anger seemed to be right up front screaming at me, I gave it a chance to speak. It told me I needed to find a new way to treat myself and a new way to think about my body. It reminded me how I longed to be my full female self, someone who was so much more than breasts and curves and genitals and fat. I wanted to come on up through my body and be with no appologies.

I had to be brave and try new ways of being. For example, in the morning I forced myself to get ready in the buff. I looked at my naked body in the mirror and I mean I really got a good look. I jiggled and stretched and bent over and even looked at the side rolls. I watched my muscles move beneath my skin. I noted my favorite and least favorite body parts. I practiced the habit of petting my thighs and other body parts and thanking them out loud for serving me. The more I said it, the more I started to believe it. When I ate too much and felt a stomach ache I apologized to my stomach for making it sick. I even began to allow my body to be natural in bed with my husband. I let my breasts fall and flap and I didn’t try to keep myself in my best posture. I relaxed and let my naturally beautiful body be. My husband has always been wonderfully accepting of my body. Why couldn’t I be? It felt heavenly even if I did feel shy. My body was so happy and that made the initial embarassment totally worth it. The act of treating my body with respect and love was freeing the inside me too. What a wonderful little trick!

Still, a father can have a powerful effect, and even after all my changes I found myself practically paralyzed with panic as we pulled into my dad‘s driveway. He hadn’t seen me since I’d lost all the weight. Would he be happy with me? We walked in the door and he came up to me and gave me a great big hug and rubbed my back and said “Skinny Vicky!” To my surprise my father’s comment angered me. It didn’t feel good at all because why is it so damned important to you dad? I wasn’t going to let him oppress and suffocate me any longer. Inwardly I rejected his “compliment.” I don’t know what sank into me but from that moment on I never needed my fathers’ approval again. After I got home from that trip I threw out my scale. I didn’t want to live by “the number” anymore. I wanted to continue creating new ways of living. I wanted to ask new questions that were about my overall health and happiness. How did I feel in my body? Could I move comfortably? Could I do the things I wanted to do? Was I relaxed in myself? If I wasn’t, what could I do to change that? Change became an opportunity instead of a demand. Feeling good truly became more important than looking good.

Thanks to my father I now have the freedom to ask any question I please. I can also stop asking questions like, “What kind of sick person talks to themselves and swears compulsively and has addictions and takes Paxil?” I can throw that scale away too! Why can’t I? I can throw it away if I want to. I don’t’ have to put myself into an inferior category of humanity. Instead I can say, “Look world, this is me just as I am.” I am a woman. Watch me shine! Watch me not shine! I will walk on the Earth regardless of what anyone thinks of me. People can wish me to be whomever they like. I won’t hear them and I will walk around and do what I like. I will strut and skip. I will day dream. I will lay in my hammock and read for a while. I will eat pepperoni with cheese and crackers and spend hours writing. I will go dancing! I might even take a nap. Why not? I don’t have to ask daddy anymore… I can ask myself.
 Written By Victoria Lee

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picsource:http://www.flickr.com/photos/flattop341/352434816/

Eating Disorders Poetry: Untitled























I lie.
I lie about what I’m doing, where I’m going, and what I just ate.

I steal.
I steal food when I can’t starve myself any longer, the scale that I’m prohibited to use, and my mom’s trust, which she thinks is so strong.

I hide.
I hide my discoloring nails, my dirty deeds, and my shrinking body.

I believe.
I believe that I’m ugly, that I’m not skinny enough, and that everyone hates me.

I regret.
I regret that I’ve betrayed the ones who love me the most, that I’ve harmed my body in ways unimaginable, and that I’ve stopped caring about the most important things in life.

I’m trying.
I’m trying to get better, to resist temptation, and to learn to love myself. 

by:Jasmine Pickering

 
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picsource:http://www.flickr.com/photos/mediafury/4055659192/in/photostream/

Progress: Eating Disorders Poetry























warning: Poem may be triggering

PROGRESS

Brain dying
Skin freezing
Lips lying
Heart seizing

Hair falling
Body aching
Ana calling
I’m breaking

Voice shrieking
Insides tearing
Tears streaking
Soul baring

Ana slowing
Intense grieving
People knowing
No deceiving

Brain healing
Smile forming
Heart feeling
Skin warming

Ana whining
Body loving
Hair shining
I’m recovering

Written by: Jessica of Periwinkle Paradise

*Check out Jessica's recovery / awareness jewelery,  Periwinkle Paradise, on Etsy.

Jessica says: 10% of the purchase price of ALL Periwinkle AND Dragonfly items AND Art pieces will be donated to NEDA - the National Eating Disorders Association - the largest National non-profit for eating disorder awareness. I look forward to raising awareness about eating disorders and helping those in need through this line of Periwinkle/Dragonfly Pieces and Recovery Art and to sharing these and all of my other pieces of jewelry with you!

Please see sidebar menu for more eating disorders and body image poetry and writings.

Be featured on Weighing The Facts


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Today I Smile: Eating Disorders Poetry

Today I Smile

wind blowing
peacefully
music playing
beautifully
this content feeling …
make it last, eternally

slow breaths in and out
any feeling of uneasiness
has flown away with the breeze
going far away
and I’ll do anything to make it stay that way

there have been times when I didn’t care to stay
but with THIS day …
I can’t see it any other way

Finally
It’s been a while
Finally
I can feel the smile

No worries, no anxiety
The sun beating down on me
Mirrors the light
That has just been turned on inside myself
Positively affecting my emotional health

Happy people passing by
Smiles on their faces, helping to erase all the “whys”

Its.time.
To let go
Its.time.
To finally say .. no

No
To the emotions that force themselves upon me
Because today, I am happy … as happy as can be.


by: Life Is Sweet



picsource:http://www.flickr.com/photos/lanuiop/4499445972/in/photostream/

Eating Disorders Poetry: My Declaration of Independence























This is my declaration of independence...

from the voice that never lets me rest or says what I do or who I am is never good enough.

from the sickness that takes doing anything productive as an "opportunity" NOT to eat.

from the disease that tricks, not just my mind, but my body into pushing beyond the line of healthy, sane excersize.

from the disorder that brings my turmoil unto my family unnecessarily and forces it's rules onto those I live with; to waste money on food I will inevitably abuse or deprive them of foods they enjoy because they trigger binges for me.

from the idea that I can't deal with the downfalls, relationships, rejections, or losses in my life.

from the voice that distorts the real image of my body, my thoughts, and my soul,

or says I need to eat more then physically refuse it,

eat less and then abuse it,

or eat nothing until hunger and fullness are one in the same.

No more will I feel bad, guilty, or trapped for nourishing my body.

No more will I let it distort who I am or what I see with my eyes.

No more will I let it suck the life from me, the freedom to live how I want to.

No more will I let it take my confidence, what makes me truly beautiful, MY beliefs.

No more will I be afraid to simply go grocery shopping for my family or myself.

No more will I let it destroy me, mentally and physically.

No more will I believe that no one could ever love me or that I could never LOVE MYSELF.

No more will I listen to the negative spin on a compliment.

No more will I surround myself with people who fuel this abusive boyfriend in my head.

No more will I feel bad for eating "too much".

No more will I be afraid to eat.
No more.

by: Alex Buchwald




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picsource:http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulin-a/3941549009/in/photostream/

Eating Disorders Poetry: Done























Done

I don't want you in my life
I don't want you in my head
You play sick mind tricks on me
While I lay awake in bed

You convince me that I'm ugly
That I'm too fat to go outside
You want me to be skinny
Even if it causes me to die

I can see through your lies now
I won't entertain your attacks
I'm not saying that it's easy
But I'm never looking back

I won't let you control me
Not like you did before
I'll decide what's right for me
And your insults will go ignored

Written by: Jessica of Periwinkle Paradise

*Check out Jessica's recovery / awareness jewelery,  Periwinkle Paradise, on Etsy.
Jessica says: 10% of the purchase price of ALL Periwinkle AND Dragonfly items AND Art pieces will be donated to NEDA - the National Eating Disorders Association - the largest National non-profit for eating disorder awareness. I look forward to raising awareness about eating disorders and helping those in need through this line of Periwinkle/Dragonfly Pieces and Recovery Art and to sharing these and all of my other pieces of jewelry with you!

Please see sidebar menu for more eating disorders and body image poetry and writings. 
Be featured on Weighing The Facts


picsource:http://www.flickr.com/photos/charamelody/4844302605/in/photostream/

Feature Your Poetry and Writings on Weighing The Facts























Would you like to be featured here, on Weighing The Facts?

Writing is a very powerful tool for many with Eating Disorders and Body Image issues. Sharing those writings is an excellent way for others to relate and be inspired.

So many times I have been told how a submission here has struck a cord, make someone feel less alone, and inspired someone in their recovery. 

Do you have original poetry/writings about your struggles, experiences, or recovery with your Eating Disorder, or Body Image? Would you like to share them with others?

Weighing The Facts would like to feature your writing so that others can relate, find support, and encouragement towards recovery.

Participation may be anonymous or credited, whichever you feel most comfortable with. Poems/writings must be your own work.

If you're interested in participating, or have any questions, just send me an email at mrsmenopausal@yahoo.com. Include your submission (as an attachment or pasted into the body of the email) and state how you would like to be credited (anonymously, a pen name, your real name, etc)I will send you an email letting you know when it has been posted.

Please check out the wonderful submissions that have already been featured here. They can be found in sidebar drop down menu.



picsourcehttp://www.flickr.com/photos/samjudson/99607587/sizes/l/in/photostream/

Spotlight: Eating Disorders Poetry



Spotlight

You thought you’d done it,
And pushed me off stage,
You thought you’d beaten me,
And locked this cage.

I know you’ve been there. Watching,
Waiting for my fall,
I’ve heard you sometimes,
Singing your tempting call.

Your idea of a perfect duet,
Lured me straight in,
You waited for my loneliness,
So your dance could begin.

You knew I’d always heard you,
Always. Such a long time ago,
Your rules were so familiar,
But I was happy with my solo.

You’re the girl I could hear,
Telling me I’m no good,
And the hands that embodied me,
What I shouldn’t eat, what I should.

I’ll give it to you though,
You’ve waited such a long time,
To push me off my stage,
And encapsulate what’s mine.

That’s what you do though,
You wait on the side,
You waited until I was quiet
And stepped in with pride.

My thoughts and your rules,
Take over control,
You’re constant abuse
Dents and damages my soul.

You knew I was unhappy
Dancing this stage on my own,
Your whispers became louder
And your seeds were sewn.

Despite your dance being clear,
I was a fool to believe,
The control was mine,
When you were so near.

Every mirror, every picture,
Every thought, every meal
You’d tell me it’s my fault,
And how I should feel.

As you came a little closer,
I accepted you in,
I welcomed your friendship,
And let your control begin.

You allowed me to rest,
And stop playing my game,
All the things I hated
But had stayed the same.

You showed me your dance,
And sang me your song,
It all looked so perfect,
I must have been wrong.

I felt so guilty,
For keeping you so long,
Waiting side of stage,
Quietly singing your song.

Your dance looked so perfect,
And your song so sweet,
Your rules, my obsessions
Your shoes on my feet.

Having you on stage,
Dancing my dance,
Your rules, your numbers,
Id given you a chance.

You shared my stage,
And followed my steps,
But you stole my light,
And forward you crept.

But enough is enough girl,
I am awakening again,
I can see your faults
And have felt your pain.

Your drugs are wearing off,
And your feet look sore,
I can see you’re struggling
Towards the stage door.

Your control is slipping,
And your time is up,
Your dance is becoming weaker
And the box office is shut.

It’s time for my solo,
My moment to shine,
So tie up your shoes, Ana,
This spotlight is mine.

By Sarah Louise Robertson


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picsource:http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnpics/469167953/

Recovery Poetry: I Lie Still, Listening

I Lie Still, Listening

I woke
and in the barely-there light of the new day
I felt it
a faint tug
a softly whispered promise
and taken with the newness of it
I lie still, listening

sweet of words
warmed with hope
and tender encouragement
it spoke to me
of possibilities
and self-love
and recovery

gently it coaxed
comforting and strong
and in the barely-there light of the new day
I listened
to a softly whispered promise
and finally...

I believed.

written by: Emmy M.





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picture source:http://www.flickr.com/photos/jcrojas/56374423/

Child Of God: Eating Disorders Poetry


Child Of God

Whats wrong with this child that wanders alone
So lost in the dark and frightened
Who scared this beautiful child of God
And put her in the dark that she hides in
What is this child of God looking for
Often does she wonder
Answers to questions that she can’t find
Or to scared to want the answers
Who hurt this beautiful child of God
Does she hurt herself
By binging and purging and starving herself
What will it take to heal this child of God
Often does she wonder
The answers lies within the child of God
She has all the answers.
by: Jaquita King



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picture sourcehttp://www.flickr.com/photos/alexreyes/2225734510/

I Am Not Cut From A Pattern: Eating Disorders Poetry



I am not my heavy thighs
nor the roundness of my face

I am not the slender length of my fingers
nor the graceful curve of my neck

I am not defined by the sum of my physical parts
for I am not my body

I am not cut from a pattern
nor molded from clay

I am creative expression
and wondrous exploration

I am quick wit
and generous smiles

I am loving
and steadfast determination

I am indelible spirit
glorious and unique

I am what no one else can be
simply and brilliantly...
 me

by: Emmy M



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 picture source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jmpznz/3921977272/

Morning Ritual: Eating Disorder and Body Image Poetry



I brush my teeth
head dipped
staring at
the toothpaste trail

so that I cannot see you

I fill my head
with humming
a mental tally of chores
counting numbers

to drown out your voice

I sidestep your duplicate
in the hallway
and the bedroom
as I get ready

you whisper of my imperfection

a soft buzz
a glimpse
I pretend I do not hear
I pretend I do not see

.... I pretend I am not her
anonymous




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Invasion Of The Body Snatchers: ED Poems And Writings




Invasion of the Body Snatchers


Please ignore the aliens
They are taking over my brain
Impulses come and Impulses go
Hoping that my soul will still remain.

My soul is slowly dying
Remembering my past
The life and love I hold within
If only they would last.

The aliens within
Strip me of my Hope,
My Smile, My Strength, My Determination
I forget the tools to cope.

I know that I am worth the fight
I don’t like to admit
I can not do this on my own
As I reach up from this pit.

This pit of isolation
Desperation and Despair
I want to find my inner strength
To grow and become aware.

Aware of possibilities,
A life where I am free
Free to Learn, Love and Live
A life where I can see.

My truth that comes from within
I can see my outer strength
Strength to reach out, for your support
I will go to any length.

You are stronger, than this monster
That works to control my brain
With your hand, support and truth,
My soul will still remain.

By: Mary Pat Nally
http://angeloflight08.wordpress.com/


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I Have A Mistress: ED Poetry And Writings



I have a mistress. She is strong and persuasive.

She is the only thing in this world that truly frightens my husband.

I have virtually stopped eating. I eat enough so that I still have a period and can keep people off my back. Maybe secretly, I want to starve myself to death and not have to deal with anything anymore. (July 18, 2008)

Her name is Ana--short for anorexia.

The National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorder estimates there are eight million people in this country who suffer from anorexia or another type of eating disorder.

I am one of those people.

My complicated relationship with Ana reached its breaking point when I was led out of a hospital in handcuffs and leg shackles.

Technically, I had done nothing illegal to warrant all of the hardware. But when I walked into the emergency room and informed the nurse on duty that I wanted to kill myself, there are certain procedures a hospital must follow.

Ana is all about control. In the beginning, I thought I controlled our relationship. She knew she was the one calling the shots.

With her at my side, I have watched myself become someone I don’t even recognize. To be with her, I have lied and deceived my family and friends over food.

Some days Ana is so frustrating that I wish I could switch places with someone else so I could get some peace from her voice. From the time I wake up until I go to sleep, I think about food. It usually begins with me wondering what to eat but it always ends with me not eating.

I used to love eating apples. I would cut the apple in half. Then cut each half into fourths. And then cut each of the fourths into four more pieces. It should take a person no more than ten minutes to eat an apple.

It took me an hour.

It’s not about the numbers on a scale. It’s about control. And my food intake is the one thing in my life that I can control. (June 1, 2008)

When I was 16 years old, my grandmother had a stroke.

I saw the ambulance from the school bus and knew something was wrong.
Since the day I was born, my grandmother helped to raise me. I remember dropping my backpack and running across the yard.

It was scary to see my favorite person in the whole world helpless and frail.
In that moment, my life changed. I went from being a high school sophomore to being a caregiver.

This was the beginning of Ana and I’s friendship. She didn’t show up because of any abuse or neglect.

Ana became a constant companion for a shy geeky teenager with few friends that was terrified of losing the one person who understood her.

I didn’t know how to share my fears or deal with all of the change. So my coping mechanism was to control how much and when I ate food. It would be years before I would admit that I was anorexic.

At home, nobody noticed because I did most of the cooking.

During that year, my friends and I had different lunchtimes. Instead of making new friends, I would get a Pepsi and a pack of crackers. For most of high school, this would be my lunch.
Truth be known, I am a lazy anorexic. I don’t exercise or calorie count. I just slowly eliminate eating as a priority for each day.

Sometimes I watch the Food Network so I can get a food fix. It’s sad that I watch Emeril or Bobby Flay so I can imagine what a meal would be like without her voice. At one time, I wanted to be a chef but being around so much food scared me.

Anorexia is a hard disease to explain to those who don’t have it. For some, it is just a matter of eating. For those of us in the know, it is about control. Control when there isn’t really control. (March 2, 2001).

I read once that in a day a person should eat about 2,000 calories. I probably eat 800 to 900 calories in a day.

It was hard at first but it became easier with time to ignore the hunger pangs and the sound of my stomach growling.

Eventually from time to time I would weigh myself. If the numbers were too high, I would freak out and not eat. But I still refused to admit I had a problem. Who punishes themselves for weighing 97 pounds by going to bed hungry? It is amazing how numbers on a scale could change my whole day.

There have been many signs that our relationship is very unhealthy.

At one point in my late 20s, I got down to 73 pounds. My friends were scared and not sure what to do.

There is a picture of me at this weight. It was taken at a Memorial Day pool party. At that time, I thought I looked awesome. My closest friends saw it differently. They saw a dangerously thin woman.

In January of 2001, a physician assistant voiced the truth.

Before that visit, I was sick all the time. I would have the flu, a cold or some sinus problem. It was always something. When I finally went to the doctor, she took one look at me and asked how long I had been anorexic.

I angrily informed her that I was not anorexic.

“I am just having trouble getting rid of this cold,” I said.

“No, you are anorexic and your poor body is fighting to stay alive,” she said quietly but firmly.
She gave me a prescription for my sinus infection and the name and number of an eating disorder specialist.

At this point in my life, Ana and I weren’t ready to be separated.
I crumpled the paper once I got in my car and threw it on the floor of my car. I refused to believe what she was saying.

Throughout that day, I called friends to tell them about what was said. I expected them to be sympathetic for me and angry at the woman also. But all I got were awkward silences or “I’ve got to go.”

The one person who had the guts to talk to me about it was one of my best friends (now my husband, James). In a very calm voice he said, “She’s right. You have an eating disorder. I hope you will listen to her and get help.”

A few days later, I picked the paper up off the floor of my car and called for help.

I wish I could say I sent Ana packing but that would be the biggest lie ever.

A few months after starting therapy, I looked in the mirror as part of an exercise. I avoid mirrors. I always have because they make me feel uncomfortable.

The first thing I noticed was that I was getting a little pudgy. At that time, I was 82 pounds. What scares me the most about the memory is how upset I was at weighing 82 pounds. This is the weight of a fourth grader. I was angry at myself for weighing 82 pounds.

I have always struggled with eating. I can’t remember the last time that I just sat down and ate without stressing about it. It’s not about calorie counting. I just can’t explain it. (May 7, 2001)

Ana and I have been together through a major move to another state, several boyfriends, two engagements, a wedding, miscarriages, a still born and the birth of my son.

She has always been there in the background waiting for me to call her back into my life.

Food will always be an issue in my life. When a plate of food is put in front of me, I get anxious and nervous. I hate to eat with others because I feel like they are watching and mentally recording every bite I put in my life.

Through the years, I had learned to keep Ana hidden.

But I accepted her embrace when the newspaper I loved went from a twice weekly to a weekly. She started her seductive whispering.

It started with me eating more junk food than real food. Then I was only eating certain foods on certain days. It soon progressed to eating only one meal a day as late as possible.
Then the newspaper was sold and my job eliminated.

Moving back home was stressful and depressing for me. Not only did I not have a job but I would be around people and would have to eat. When I lived alone, I decided when I ate. With others, there were semi-set meal times or torture time for me.

We had just bought a home. My mother was undergoing her second round of chemotherapy for stage four metastatic breast cancer. Everything was spiraling out of control.
With all the uncertainty in my life, Ana knew the only thing that could be controlled was how much I ate in a day.

She knew, in a very sick way, I got a high from going hours or days without eating. Once for a week, I survived on bag of oyster crackers and a container of cottage cheese.

Change is a big trigger for my anorexia. If the change is too big, I quit eating. (March 31, 2001)

It was tough relearning how to be a mother while being homesick for my former life.

“You may not work at a newspaper but you can still write,” everyone told me.

It is not a matter of blogging or writing a book. I wanted to write for a newspaper. I can’t describe how I feel when writing. The group, Coldplay, has a song called “Viva La Vida,”,” which sums up how I feel. The song talks about a person going from a prince to a pauper. This is how I feel now.

It starts out with “when I ruled the world.” This is how I felt as a reporter. Writing was a way of expressing myself. It was my identity. I was a reporter and not just a mother or a wife.
I started looking forward to night time. When it’s late at night, everyone is asleep. Ana’s voice subsides and I don’t have to do her bidding. There is no sneaking food into a napkin or putting it down the drain. Just silence.

The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong. He said it could be a kidney infection. It could be. But I know why my body is messed up. I always know why. (March 14, 2002)

As with most affairs, I didn’t see how it was destroying my body, my life and my family. My two-year-old son didn’t want to eat because Mommy didn’t eat.

My husband felt powerless.

One night, I overheard him talking on the phone about being so frustrated.
I wish I could tell him how self-conscious I feel about my body. Some days I see the skeletal body that others see and other days I see something else. I envy him when he eats. He doesn’t seem to worry or stress. He just eats.

I hoped he wouldn’t notice my relapse.

He noticed. He saw how fast the weight was dropping and what I was eating. Or shall I say was not eating.

He is an excellent cook whose efforts were wasted on me. He knew this but would try anyway.
“Here try this,” he said. “I made just the way you like it.”

He would buy my favorite foods. He tried anything to get some calories into my body.
My husband is one of those people who wants to help wherever there is a need.

I know my relationship with Ana frustrates and angers him. He would express his concern about my appearance and mental state. And Ana whispers that he is jealous and don’t let him take me from her.

So instead of listening to concern for my well-being, I embraced destruction of my body.

I can’t explain her hold over me. The way it alternates between craziness and numbness. How she makes nothing else matter except not eating.

There is so much that I want to tell him but I can’t so I push him away. I don’t isolate myself to hurt him intentionally. I do it because I’m scared to imagine a life without her.

So a lot of times I try to eat enough so no one will notice.

I thought I did it with finesse but my weight loss was soon very noticeable.

Ana became my constant companion who made me feel like I was holding things together. But in reality, people I loved watched me retreat and fade away. She had become all that mattered.

Believe it or not, it does scare me when I look at my body with my clothes off. I shower with my eyes closed so I don’t have to see how painfully thin I am, but I am not sure what to do. Everyone knows. Either because they figured it out or James told them. (July 10, 2008)

Some days I would see how long I could go without eating anything substantial. This is not easy when you are running after a small child with tons of energy. Each night, I would be exhausted and stressed about eating.

Being with Ana was not a secret game that I took pleasure in playing. I no longer have an appetite. I haven’t had one in years. Whenever I get a headache or became too dizzy, I know I need to eat something.

One night, something snapped. I knew I couldn’t live like this anymore. I decided that death was the only way to get rid of her.

I could no longer live with her but in a twisted way, I couldn’t live without her.
But when the day came, I realized I didn’t want Ana to win. Even though I was desperate, I wasn’t ready to give up.

Who would do the airplane routine after my son’s bath?

Who would know the little things about him such as his favorite shirt? Who would be able to say lines from the movie Cars with him?

Those things were on my mind as I sat in my car wondering what to do-carry out my plan or seek help.

With all the stress, Ana had convinced me that nobody cared if I lived or died.

But I knew one person on this earth who would care—my son.

I was barely hanging on when I walked through those emergency room doors.

My problem is causing you problems. I have lost so much control in my life that I have nothing. I can’t do anything right. I feel so lost and helpless. I have tried to ask for help but each time I can’t make the words come out. (August 15, 2008—from suicide note to my son.)

I spent a few days at a crisis recovery center. I came home fragile and scared. Ana wasn’t completely there but she wasn’t gone either. I was determined to keep her away.

The medications that I take mimic an appetite. I’m not as lightheaded as much because I try to eat small meals and snacks throughout the day. And slowly, the numbness is starting to go away. I want to see my son grow up, graduate and have a life. I want him to have a mommy who is strong.

I don’t want to do anything to hurt my son. He’s sweet, smart and is picking up on my lack of eating. This is about him and how I must save myself. (September 24, 2008)

I don’t feel as hopeless but I still feel alone. It is hard to talk about Ana.

At my lowest point, I was 73 pounds. This time I dropped to 89 pounds. It may not sound like much but it is scary when you are four feet and 11 inches.

I used to have long, beautiful hair, somewhat of a shape and a mouthful of teeth.
Thanks to Ana, I am losing my hair, most of my teeth are gone and I feel unbalanced.
And yet my mistress still desires me.

I weigh 105 pounds. Everyone says the weight looks good on me. Ana is not comfortable with those numbers because they represent me finding strength without her.

I feel at times everyone and everything is closing in on me. They try to make me eat. It is not that simple. You can’t undo years of bad eating with one meal. (August 15, 2001)

Ana is working hard to regain a footing in my life. She whispers that she needs just a little more time with me.

One day, I will have a good day. A day when I can eat, enjoy food and not think about it too much. It will be a long time before that day comes. Ana and I have begun our dance again.

Each day is a constant struggle—to eat or not to eat. I wish I could say I am completely cured. I am not and will never be completely okay.

My therapist is nice but overwhelmed by Ana. Until I find a job with insurance, I will battle daily with Ana about eating. Some days I win but most often I don’t. If I am stressed or upset, eating is the first thing to go. It shouldn’t be so hard to get rid of something that is so deadly.
Like a person addicted to alcohol or drugs, I will also have a longing for my mistress. So I keep reminding myself of what will happen if I let her return with full force.

The two of us can never be together again because the next time Ana will kill me.

By: Jacqueline Hough of Notes From The Voices

..the trials and triumphs of a young mother trying to conquer her eating disorder while trying to find a job and keep her sanity.


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