Inspiration Needed (Dear Anonymous)

An anonymous reader left the following message on a recent blog post:

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She wrote the following:

"Hi! My name is Morag. I am a fifteen year old girl trying to recover from anorexia.I just discovered your blog.I am scared of dying. I am scared of ruining my relationships. But I'm scared of eating more. I keep saying "this is it, this is the breaking point where I get better" only to go back to panicking about calories the next day. If you have any inspiration for me, please PLEASE share. Thanks..."

I left her the following message after her comment:

Dear Anonymous,

I'm afraid everything I say will sound trite: you're young, you have your whole life ahead of you, you can defeat this because you most likely have not had anorexia for a long time (meaning it has not become chronic, as it is in my case since I'm entering my six year of treatment.)

All of these things might be true, but I'm betting that the eating disorder voice can trash each one and turn it around to make you feel hopeless.

Do you have a therapist? A dietitian? A eating disorders psychiatrist? It's hard to know what to say when I have so little to go on, and also do not know your living situation, i.e. does it contribute to your eating disorder or is your family supportive? Have you looked into ED recovery groups? I know that these groups are limited and it depends upon where you live.

Just know that you can recover, many people do. It takes hard work and understanding that it won't happen overnight. Realize you will sometimes slide back; this happens in recovery.

Finally, you have to WANT to recover. I know that might sound strange and not very helpful, but it's the truth. You have to want to recover, and you have to be willing to give up the anorexia identity and discover who you are and the things you can do.

Please feel free to e-mail me at angelaelackey@gmail.com if you have any questions, etc. I might be off the grid for about a week or so, so don't worry if I don't answer right away; I will answer.

I will keep you in my prayers.

However, I was hoping perhaps some of you might have inspiration, too? If so, please share in the comments.Maybe we can stop one more young person from being sucked into anorexia for life. Maybe we might save her a lot of pain and heartache. I hope so.

Thank you.

Witnessing a Love Story

I'm sitting here in Starbucks, sipping my skinny vanilla latte and anxiously counting how many calories this adds to my daily allowance. I'm cold. I'm tired. I'm depressed.

I look around at the other people here. I am curious. Of course, the first thing I focus on is their weight. The young lady to my right is slender and gorgeous, and I immediately focus on my thighs. She is eating a sandwich, while I settle for my XXX-calorie meal bar. Did I mention that I was hungry?

In line are more slim women; women wearing leggings and close-fitting tops; fearlessly order frozen drinks laden with sugar and fat. I am envious, and I do not like the feeling.

I notice another young lady, also slender and possessing smooth skin and perfect make-up. I realize that everyone is able to pull themselves together except me, and I stand out with all my fat. I think.

There are several men here, but I do not care about them or their weights. They are average; forgettable.

An older man walks in with a bouquet of red roses. He is middle-aged, perhaps in his fifties, and balding. He sits down next to a Hispanic woman. I had noticed her earlier — also middle-aged, heavy-set, much bigger than me. This made me feel safe.

I had dismissed her as yet another overweight American, one of many who eats too much and just doesn't care.

She breaks out in a smile. A stunning smile, full of joy and life. She takes the roses, and gently grins at the gentleman.

They talk. I watch. I wonder about their relationship. Are they lovers? Married? Is he going to ask her to marry him?

It is almost too intimate to watch.

Now she is showing him some pictures on her phone. Their heads bend together, brushing against each other.

Now she laughs at something he has said, bringing her hand up to her chest.

I do not know this woman. I do not know if she has ever starved herself, or purged her food, or been on one of a million diets out there. I admire that she seems okay with her curves and bulges; indeed, she seems very comfortable in her own skin.

I envy that.

But I doubt that she has starved or purged or desired to slice the flesh off of her bones. She is full of life, obviously in love with this balding man and herself. I bet she doesn't know or care how many calories are in her latte or cappuccino or macchiato. I am sure she didn't anxiously plug the numbers in her phone's calculator, hoping that she didn't go over the self-imposed limit.

There are still here. She is sipping the last of her drink, and I can almost taste the full-fat milk and chocolate. I can almost remember what it felt like to have that cold sensation on my tongue, swirling it about my mouth, no thought of calories or carbs or fat grams.

She tosses her dark curly hair, leaning forward as the man speaks. He also leans forward, and I am sure that he loves her for all of curves, that she draws him in with that smile and the life that shines within.

Walking on Water

I am
Walking on Water

Skirting the Edges
Trying to not let
The fear

Consume me.

For
1
5
10
Infinity

I have done
Whatever I could
Do
To Please you.

Nothing
Nothing
Nothing

I am Not
The Evil One
Here

I have
Been Walking
On Eggshells
For

LIFE

When I was born,
Did I ask
For this
Life
Sentence

I have
Not
Been Able to

Walk on Water

But does that
Mean
That
I
Am
Doomed?

I try
To
Fight
This pain...

But
No Matter What

I am
Not
Able
To
Walk on Water

And therefore
I
Am
Not
Worthy

------
@11:34 a.m.  - 334
@ 12:48 p.m. - 534
@1:52 p.m. - 542
@ 2:33 p.m. - 550
@ 3:53 p.m. - 558
@4:09 p.m. - 566

Each number represents failure.

As I continue
To try and fight this
The Chaos
In my Life
Threatens to take control.

Each number represents success.

As I continue
To try and suppress
My
Hunger
This is the only thing
That I can control.

Because
I will never be able to
Walk on Water.

What happens when an ED recovery-minded blogger starts to slip?
Does she go out and create chaos?
Or quietly struggle, afraid to hurt others?

Does she internalizes her fears,
Or does she find a way to release them?

Does she write her way out the pain,
Trying to awaken from the nightmare?

What happens when she slips?

Does she pretend,
Or rediscover her soul?