Letter to anorexia

Recently in therapy I have been working on understanding my relationship with my anorexia, understanding why it still holds such power in my life, and working out how I can keep on finding the motivation to fight it.
I am doing MANTRA therapy (Maudsley anorexia treatment for adults); which works specifically with people who have suffered from the illness for a longer length of time. Although it has been emotionally very challenging, it's also been liberating and has helped me understand the way forward. I've decided to share my letter, in hope that it may help someone else.

Anorexia, my friend.

I know so many people would never understand how I could consider you a friend, after all you’ve put me and the people I love through. But here I am, acknowledging the pull you still have one me. sometimes life gets loud, chaotic and complicated… there are so many people and things and demands to constantly reach. Whenever it all starts whizzing around my head, when the sounds become so loud and lights so bright and I feel like I can’t breathe; your calm and concise voice speaks up. It feels so easy, so simple in the moment. Like a life ring thrown out to someone drowning at sea. Simple, focussed and calm. That’s how you feel to me, sometimes. And then it grows and grows and your voice that was once so quietly helpful becomes deafening and critical… but not to the point I think that it is wrong… because you’re helping me, right? Because you came into my life, seeing that I was alone and in pain, and you helped me. you said what I needed to hear and gave me what I needed to feel and it made things better, so surely it’s the same now? When I obey your commands, my life feels controlled, I feel capable and calm. Everything is measured and accounted for, the sums add up and it all makes sense. You push me to the very edge of my capability, insisting that I can always do better better better, that second best is still a failure and if only I could just do more. One more hour of studying, one more run around the park, stay up for one hour later, get up earlier, eel powerful, feel like nothing can stop me. I have to be disciplined and conscientious, I have to always be at my best. Maybe you’re right, because when I do these things, I do get better grades, I do run for longer, I do get more done. When I play your game, I have the ability to do these select few things you tell me define me, and I excel.

I guess this brings me to my next letter...

Anorexia, my enemy.

I used to find this part inconceivable. I used to fight anyone that would even suggest that you were anything other than my friend, my ally, my only way to cope in this world.

You first slithered into my life when I was 14 years old. You came at a time I felt so vulnerable, so alone, so sad. I was at the point when I didn’t want to live anymore… and you appeared. You gave me what no one else did at that time; you saw me, you saw I was in pain, you saw I done. You told me you’d make it better, that I was in control. It’s been 9 years of your hell and I can soundly say that the one thing I’ve consistently learnt from you is that you want nothing more than to take my life. I mean, yes, I worked so hard at my exams that I passed with flying colours, and I was able to go for 3 hour runs without even breaking a sweat. My clothes always hung just loose enough, and that panic; that god awful panic seemed… controlled.

So what did I sacrifice for that? 9 years of birthdays with no cake, 9 years of not having chocolate at Christmas. 2 years of not being allowed to attend school because I was a fainting risk, months of being on chair rest. The fights, the arguments that almost broke my family into pieces. The A&E trips three times a week where I would have to watch my mum bury her head in her hands yet again. The hopelessness, the loneliness, the isolation. 4 years spent bouncing from inpatient unit to inpatient unit, 2 years spent 300 miles away from home. Zero privacy, zero control. The lengths you pushed me to trying to reach these set of parameters you assigned to my life. Where I was only allowed to sleep for 4 hours each night because I had to stand for the other 18 hours. The physical pain that pushed me to tears, the emotional toll that almost cost me my life. But that didn’t matter to you, all that mattered was my weight, was the rules, how my clothes felt. You lured me into this delusion that you were helping me and keeping me calm, when reality was, I was in more distress than ever before.

You keep me on your hook because I’m terrified what’ll happen without you. Will I go back to being that scared and unhappy girl I once was? Will the panic attacks come back with a vengeance? Will everything feel so out of control and chaotic, will I fail? Will people see the real me and hate me, after all, who am I without you?

Better. I am better without you. I can sleep and rest, I can do things I enjoy. I can spend time with my friends and family and actually be present with them. I can be out of hospital and living.

Anorexia, you are my enemy. And the worst part is, I still sometimes believe that you are my friend. The ultimate manipulation, whereby the reason you remain so strong in my head is because I still believe your lies. I am at a stage where I am as scared to live with you, and I am without you. This gives me the upper hand though because I know every time I do something that you don’t like, I get stronger. I know you will shout and scream, I know you will throw everything you have at me. I know you will put up a fight because you thought this was home. And I know some days I feel like I’m not winning, I’m tired and I wish more than anything there was a magical pill that would eradicate you from my life. But know this, I will win, no matter how long it takes. You don’t get anymore of my life, and you certainly don’t get to take my life.

Keep strong and keep safe, 

Fi xxx