Topic: eating disorder
I knew then that things would never be the same from that point forward: the anorexia as resistance, the depression as loss of control, the fleeing to another country as delusion, the dying and then not dying and then dying and then not dying.
Depression is not a bad part of my personality or a flaw in my character.
Amidst all the things I couldn’t control, there before me was something I could: my weight.
My eating disorder looks quiet to the outside world.
What I have done throughout my recovery is not only find a way for me to have a better relationship with food—although that is a major part of the process—but to also see the roots beneath the tree of my disorder, helping me to unveil the bigger picture.
I was always just a little too much, even when there wasn’t much there for me to even be.
The relationship with my body is a complicated one—with ups and downs, celebrations, and resentment, but as of late, a lot of acceptance and contentment too.
Eating disorders blur the image of who we are.
See Ed for what he really is: an invader of your space and your body as opposed to a part of who you are.
I ran until anorexia almost took me over completely. I ran until the scars tallied skin from my thigh to my waist because I couldn’t cope. I ran until I couldn’t anymore.
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