Anorextic Beauty-For those who gave me strenght to survive...
Look in my eyes. Do you see me, can you see through the glassy look, and experience my life? I want you to see, thatís itís not as easy as you think, to be me.
Do you think Iím a neurot, or do you respect me, for continuing and overcoming my past. Do you see the struggle I fight inside, can you see it? Because I try to tell you with the looks I give. You know, thereís nothing in this life of mine that is sure, that I believe in and hold on to without any doubts, any fears. Do you see my anxiety for life, for the days that I have to breath and must speak. Some days I feel like an ornament, looking, moving, acting the way I have to. You tell me to speak. But I wish you would understand some things can only be said without words. But you donít, you see me as a teenager, caring about looks, not knowing the sense and difficulty of life.
When you look in my eyes, do you see the tears coming down, or is that something that doesnít matter to you? Do you care about me, believe in me,do you listen when I tell you how I feel? When you look in my eyes are you intrigued by the stories they tell. Do you wonder if Iím strong? If Iím doing ok? Or do you just judge me like every other wise person who took a glance within me.
Iíd like to tell you how I feel, how I experience this teenage life, how I can feel, and fear to lose the love I carry. Will you please just hold on, stay in this moment, step out of all your prejudices and understand Iím dealing with my life? Iím having a hard time, and I want you to be there when I overcome, but please just help me up when I fall down, instead of making me trip. Iím trying to live a life, and I want you to understand.
Look in my eyes. Do you see me?
I wake up hearing Ďhallelujahís from the living room. And when I feel the carpet underneath my feet I smile. I got one hour of sleep, if not less. But I donít care. ĎCause there, singing inside that room are two of my best friends, taking part in a church ceremony at seven in the morning. Well, for them somewhere between two days, but for me there was still a difference between day and night. They praise the Lord, but I believe I should praise him, thank heaven, for having these weirdoes sitting in my house.
In most ways, our friendship isnít any different from other friendships, but yet we share some great, embarrassing and rough times. With only the thought of this, I feel a bond. Commitment that will help me overcome adolescence, a tumultuous time, that I could never survive alone. Friends, brought together by love trust respect and, in our case, survival and forgiveness. The friendship I share is an essence of pure devotion. I chose my friends, I chose who I was by choosing them. And I havenít had a day where I felt regret. I have woken up many morning wondering what weíd done. How trying on huge bras, dancing in a fountain and flashing a camera is ever going to bring progress to my intelligence. But I see how we grow, sometimes fast sometimes slower, but every time a little bit closer. Itís faith that has brought us together and I count on faith to make the right decision when it comes to splitting us apart.
It often comes to me wanting to tell them how I feel, but somehow there are no words for the feelings that I treasure deep inside. Words would only break this.
ďAs you stand there, I realize how gifted I am by having you here. You love me, even when I messed up. I donít know if thereís somebody looking down on us, but I thank that something for giving me you. You are a gift. You have my trust and love.
As you stand there, life seems so perfect. Everything about you seems perfect. Your eyes, speaking of stars. Your smile, talking about love. And the words you speak about hope. Hope in me. You make me cry, the way you stand there. Your wings are covered up. You speak, but your words donít seem to reach me anymore. I just hear your voice. It feels like you, it sounds like Ann.
I think back about the time that I was loosing myself. Did they know you would give me strenght? You, my friend to help me get through. I remember how you just held me and tried to send your strength into me. You knew Iíd lost mine. I know you are an angel and I donít seem to understand how people can walk by not seeing your glace. You grab my hand, and I trust you. I cannot speak, just feel. Happiness slips inside, not afraid of tears and hurt. How can I be so blessed? I must have done something amazing before this that I may have you so near. I close my eyes, and then slowly open them again. ÖYouíre still here. Iím surprised, but happy. I want to tell you funny things, so you will laugh, I want to tell you what you mean to me, but Iím afraid that thereís nothing, no jokes, no words. At least none that I know. Iíve forgotten. I can no longer speak with words Iíve been taught.
Where are we anyway? I just canít get a grip on my view. Only bitter tears that feel soft on my lips, that form the flavour of this moment. Is there a word for love like this? I look at you because I want this moment to stay with me as long as I live. I want to be able to lock this up inside of me. I ask time to stand still so I can take every little detail of this with me, donít let this go by yet. Give me some time.
As I find grip on my view again, I smile. You smile back and ask me what Iím thinking. God, how can I explain what Iím thinking? People didnít make a word for this. A feeling as if you found a sister, a best friend. How can I ever put that into words? So I just smile and remain silent, just for now. Maybe some time, when I can speak without using words Iím able to tell you what you mean to me.
When Iím back in the moment I see youíve left, youíre walking into the world. A world full of harmull words, thoughts, feelings. A world that I want to protect you from. Because I donít want you to get hurt. I donít want you to go down as I have experienced. So I run to you,planning to protects you. You turn around. Your eyes look confused and asking. I hug you, trying to let the heat my heart carries flow into you. I look to upstairs from over your shoulder, and thank heaven one more time. Than I turn to you, ready for a life with you by my side.
But looking at these two girls, sitting here. That is the moment you realize the gift you have been given, something you want to hold on to, but time will always move on.
If I remember me right, it was the day we almost burned down the house. We broke two chairs and messed up some important tests the next day, but itís not that mattered. It was us, in a world surrounded by friendship, filled with love, memories. Worth it so much more than all that happened and could have happened that day.
Every teen carries a story. A story that has led us to where and what we are today, with all our beliefs and fantasies. I carry one too. But yet sometimes I wish I could burn it, leave it behind, together with the failures, losses and scars it has left me. But I guess I could never, yet I could not give up either. My story has been my life that I carry with me, that stays with me, when I laugh and cry, when I feel joy, when I speak of sadness. My story brought me wisdom and love but also pain and memories Iíd rather forget. Itís something I should have told years ago, before I was not being able to hold on to certain things anymore.
I lived my life on perfectionism, always asking more of myself and not seeing where and when I would fall.
Today it is two years later, and I may look the same, but inside it has changed.
ďAs I lift myself upon that scale, I donít want to see, that this is my life. A fight that I canít win. The game, between you and me. Every day goes by the same, starving Ďmeí to become unreal. A fantasy of skin and bones. Just to please you, goddamn scale. Since when do you live through me? Since when do you decide my emotions for today? Why are you stronger? Where did she go? The little girl I knew so well. Tried to be perfect. Then she fell. And now the way back is so hard. If only I had known, this feeling of emptiness, the price of numbness. If only I had known this back then, at my start. Would I feel the way I do? Would you make me to? Would you decide for me when to live, and say that time has come. But youíre plastic, you know. And I hope I will ever understand. I will ever realize that too. Because I will see through you. One day I will grow.Ē
It was a summer day, when this all started. I found my story, and took it along. When I glanced in the mirror I felt a great disgust, wanting to hurt myself, throw up, but mostly refuse myself to eat. I knew my messed up view on life. And though you should experience sadness, like everybody else. You shouldnít experience it like this, as a never-ending depression? I needed to find control, get my life back. Out of the dark. And hoping for a better life I took the risk to lose weight. I wanted the world to see me, by getting thinner, hoping to become invisible, a see-through person. I did succeed, but I guess by that time I believed what I told my mirror to show. I didnít want the world to see me and tell me to stop. I didnít want them to think and act for me. Because life was already too confusing, and on the way to itís end.
ďI feel everything all at once, and I feel nothing at all
I want to scream, make them see me and my pain,
I want to disappear, hide behind this fragile skin.
I want to be independent left alone, donít touch me, donít judge me,
Hold me, help me, I canít do this aloneĒ
There was a little, whispering voice inside of me, promising me a beautiful life, if I would only loose more weight. How could I ignore that little girl speaking inside my head? I felt there was nothing left for me but becoming thin. And even today I long back for the feeling of bones hurting my skin. I felt that was what I had to do, it felt right to me. Though I knew the truth, I knew it was wrong.
I cannot understand how she could take away everything I once fought for. I became immune to my mum, myself and you, my friend. I could look you in the eyes and swear I had eaten my lunch.
ďI drag myself through the day Itís cold, itís dark, but I donít take a notice, I no longer care how the world outside me lives on. My mum trusted me, she let me eat by myself, and when I told her I would not abuse her trust, I knew already that I would throw away my food. I do make my sandwich, because I have to pretend. I have to make sure they think I eat. I flush my food down the toilet. But when I clear up my knife and plate, I feel a guilt, sneaking upon me. I eat the feeling away as I eat the few crumbs that I left. But on the moment I swallow I feel nasty, I failed again. I run up to my room and find the laxatives behind my bed. I swallow four, five, eight, I have to. I have to swallow control.
I open the school door and try to be invisible, do they see my betrayal? Do they know what I did, what I do? Everyday.
As I look in your eyes, I wonder if you know what Iím causing here. Iím breaking your heart by lying and pretending Iím fighting. Somewhere I see sadness, disappointment in your eyes. You know. You know I lie. But I do not wake up, I do not stop. I just stare back, and tell you Iím not Ďthat stupidí. I should turn away, because every word I say makes this an awful lie. I feel my soul slip away, watch my life be stolen before my eyes, surrounded by promises, a picture book full of my lies. I try to swallow the tears away, but these icy fingertips are clenched around my throat, making it impossible to swallow my lies. But why is it then that you hold me, you cry. Iím confused and keep my act, since I cannot see what you know anymore. Why do you cry?
I havenít heard from you since. You just pass me by, ignore the memories we shared, the pain you know I own inside. You just left me, looking for a better friend. Someone who is perfect, one without troubles and rough times. Someone without this voice inside. And that is where I realized, I no longer mattered to you, I was just a fragile face in the crowd. Too scary, I was just too damn scary for you, you dumped me like trash. Didnít see the tears I cried when you left.
ÖBut I lied.
Iíll be fighting my way this winter all-alone. I know.Ē
This is where it starts, if I only had known what I was going to put myself through. Would I have changed? Would I have carried on? If only I had known the pain that I would cost myself and those who loved me, would I still have taken this path?
But there was just nothingÖjust emptiness, a haze. Whenever people spoke to me, I seemed to be there, but instead I carried a constant thought of food, weight and numbers. My soul was depleted of energy, my eyes spoke of death and of the dream I was longing for. Every day I felt the weight falling off of me. As I lost weight I created a distance between my world and that you lived in, itís responsibilities and love. I felt such a great disgust that would lead me to death. There was a path, a hand reaching out. And that was the only thing that caught my eye. The thought of leaving everything behind, losing my pain and saying goodbye to the hate I felt for the body I dragged along. Giving this all up brought calmness.
ďThe days fly buy, I walk around counting calories, and Ďforgettingí to eat. At night I dream. I dream about food. I dream about the things that I havenít eaten for months.
When I wake up, I panic, afraid that I have eaten, and when I realize it was a dream, I feel stupid for dreaming about food. Every morning I take a look in the mirror reminding me I need to be good today. As the weight is falling away from me, I feel lighter, I feel like flowing out of my body. Iíve become an introvert, no longer able to see what Iím causing here, no longer seeing the hurt that I bring. But I do see the tears. And I promise myself to work harder, in silence. Not causing them pain, not causing me failure. As I once longed for attention, for them to see me drowning in my problems, I now keep them out. I lie, swear and scream to those who use the words ďyou have to eatĒ.
But they donít understand. Iím just changing my ideal of beauty, but they tend to call it my insane obsession.
Itís not true.
I walk around on eggshells. I live in silence and hope they will forget about me having to eat. At night I have a hard time sleeping, feeling this great pain, this addiction to pain. I just really long for a body to die for. I know they say I have a problem, I know they say Iím sick, they tell me so. But it feels so good to be this thin.Ē
Itís not that anorexia made itís way into my life, I let it in. I planned my anorexia right from the start. I longed to be thin, and I knew ďAnaĒ would bring me this. She promised me a better life. Ana became my best friend, the only one that understood what was important in life. The only one that wasnít against me, as it felt at that time. She supported me and helped me get thinner. She was there every time I cried at night, sheíd been there, deep inside, all the times Iíd had the fear for fat. Even now Iíd rather be dead that fat, a feeling I will probably carry with me all my life. But the feeling of control, starving yourself, killing yourself is so great, that I actually had no idea what I was doing, I longed for death to take me away. But I had no thoughts, no image of the kind of life I would have after my death. I didnít think about that but sometimes it appeared and I tried so hard to resist against that.
ďHere I was on a hard table, feeling every single bone that is set in this body of mine. She tells me to feel my pain. But I donít want to. She tells me to think about death, what will I be when I die? I scream and cry. I donít want to think, I donít want to be, I donít to feel. It hurts me so much. I ask if I may please get up, but she tells me to lie still, feel the pain, feel it everywhere I can, everywhere I am. I cry. The tears make their way down my bony cheeks. Even this hurts. She tells me to feel the table and make it a part of my body, but it hurts and I donít want to feel this. For a moment I just lie there. She watches my tears fall down. I want to ask her why she makes me do this, but she tells me this is what death feels like.Ē
When I look back on this day I feel anger and a lack of understanding. Why did she make me do this, was she my therapist? Though I realize now it was a mattress, I remember it as a table, a table that felt like it would break through my back. This pain I felt, is something I sometimes still dream of. I was close to being taken into hospital and somehow, she would no longer work with me if they chose for hospital. It took three days for the pain to get out of my back. But it takes forever to get that day out of my memory.
But another day came. Hospital wanted me. Docters made their way into my life. I was scared, I didnít trust them, and I knew it would cost me so much energy to resist me against the days they would put me through.
ďHere, in this big hospital, they try to reach me, they all speak to me and tell me I can trust them. But I feel lies, I feel theyíre all one, fighting against me and my friend.
I lie in this room now, I feel so naked. I donít want them to diagnose the truth that I already know. Iím not asking the rest of the world to know this. I just want them to step back, and let me be, let me go. They should not think that I will tell them the truth, my thoughts, my actions. They are not interested in what I have to say, they rather stick food down my throat and make me leave. Every time this doctor touches me, I shrink away. I donít want her to touch me. Iím empty but yet so pure. Iím fragile, breakable, icy and thin. I know it, I feel it, but this is my body, and this is my way, untill the end. I can only stare at the sealing and hope this moment to pass by. But I know that this moment will live on. I know this moment will be a beginning of another battle. Fighting against the world, my parents and these doctors here. I feel mad for being touched, by these cold hands. She has no right to touch me, tell me I have to get better. Sheís supposed to help people who need a doctor. Not me, trying to make it harder for me. I feel the tears behind my eyes, but Iíll save them for tonight when Iím alone. Because tears have no use in this big house. Tears will not help me, convince them. They know my kind. Iím not the first one to do this. Do they know Iím a girl? A person with rights? But they tell me I havenít got any. I know, Iím just a number, a patient. A body that needs to get better. My quality of rights, of life, is non-existant.Ē
By the time I was diagnosed as anorexic in hospital, I was already very sick and mostly gone. I see that so often. We mess around with food, ignoring the concequences, andlosing too much weight. But it seems like itís normal. It has become a lifestyle of the average teen. And by the time somebodyís body has become addicted to the starvation one has but herself through. Weíre being torned out of unstabile lives, and diagnosed as anorexic. Only then there is someone to help.
But what happens to the thousands of teens, who are struggling alone? TheyTake up the mass mediaís idea of perfection, as a sponge taking up water? And we wonder why itís so hard to re-teach a teen itís not normal to be anorexic. Why is help only ofered so late, too late in the stadium of an eating disorder?!
Nothing could reach me, not even those who were so close. I lived on a cracker and some yoghurt a day. Mortality was my goal, once everything had turned black before my eyes. I didnít care if I would die, it was those around me who died that broke my heart. There was an anger toward the person, the thing, that special one that thought he had the right to make me see the world around me die. This was my way to show you I protested against life.
And I caused myself to feel disguisted by my own reflection, to let Ana speak. Food was my friend, as long as I didnít had to eat it. Ana was my friend, as long as I obeyed her. My mum asked me, ordered me, begged me to please eat. And though I wanted to be a good daughter, I just couldnít. My weight; 40 kiloís, and I begged my mum to just let me go down to 39, just let me experience that feeling. But she said I couldnít, I would risk my life, I was not able to make these decisions. And though I knew she spoke the truth, though deep inside I knew. Though I really wanted to keep my promises, to be a good patient, daughter and sister, I just couldnít do it. I wish I could tell you this feeling of showing them I was a really strong person, and I tried so many times to talk to Ana inside. But I think now, I should have done that a long time before. Because she was just like me, she stuck to her dreams and would continue the will of her way to death. I had lost the balance between my self-hate and self-love. I joined a battle with myself, and was sure I would win it, although I didnít know who was me and who was her. I no longer hated the world, just me and fought alone. I could just lie still in great silence and love my bony, hairy body, though it was so, so ugly. If they would just let me be. But when somebody had the nerves to come too close in my life and control me, hell broke out. Ana protected me.
As they took away my control over food, I became mad, I screamed, yelled, and swore at them, and only stopped as they cried or let me go. Sometimes they didnít. And when I was home alone, or up my room. I cried. I would throw with glass or anything that could possibly break. After that I cut myself and swallowed as many laxatives as possible. As I started shaking, getting pain in every single cell of my body, I fell to the floor and fell asleep crying. What was I to do? I felt so powerless. I wanted to die, and they were taking that away from me. This was my death. This slow, silent death.
ďI wake up and find my brother on my bed, crying, thinking Iím asleep. This person, the only one in my whole life is crying because of meÖ It hurts so much to see him cry, but I cannot stop, why donít they get that? Why do they ask me the one thing I cannot give up? Here is my guardian angle, without hope, without a solution, without wings. This person I love with all my heart, is here with me tonight. Why? Why would he care? But I cannot comfort him, because I have no words to say, no promises I can make, Iím so sorry. Here is the boy that was here with me some time before, telling me it would be all right. But this is not right. It has gone wrong, weíre too far now. Iím almost gone. Donít make me come back now. Wasnít it you who held me last time? What has happened?Ē
Iíve always had problems seeing my brothers finding their own life. With Rik I shared a strong connection. He helped me up the million times I fell. But then, it seemed like he was no longer my big brother. From this time on weíve grown apart. He has his own life, far away from me. Far away from my pain and troubles. It felt again as somebody leaving me, and I tried harder to let him stay until I was gone, by loosing more weight, faster.
Every once in a while my parents came in late at night, and checked if I were still alive, if I still breathed, because that was the only thing that assured them I was not yet gone. The rest of my face spoke of death, a death that was falling over me.
ďThe days in hospital are long. I do not show or give away who I am. If I give them a finger I know they will take my hand a throw me into the long way back. I donít want to go back. I love living on the edge, and every step closer is calmer. I no longer only reject food but also liquid. The 70% of water inside my body must get out. So Iíll be lighter and ready to fly away. Iím already saying goodbye. My sight reaches about a meter around. Iíve lost my sense of hearing, Iíve lost my memories. And you know, it makes me even calmer. I have no idea whatís going on in class, how people look at me, I have no idea what they say or think. Iíve lost their language; only speak of numbers, calories and fat. When my friends hug me it feels like they break my bones, when I sit down I feel the chair that is so hard underneath me, I canít remember anything that happened the last few days, I just remember tiredness, pain and the resistance that I give. I just need to hold on for a bit longer. There are so many people who ask me to eat, but why do they only see me now, now that itís already too late? Iím afraid of the doctors, of my dietician and even my psychiatrist. Iím afraid they donít understand my fear for living, my fear for food and my fear for them, forcing me to eat. My friends are so far away, they do not know my fears, donít speak the same thoughts as me. They are just too far away.
When you look at me through your eyes, you do not see much there. Iím trapped inside my thoughts. When you look at me, and what you see you donít understand, itís not what I see. Your mirror is completely different from mine.
If you could see what I see, if you would take a look through my eyes, you would respect my choice, please understand, Iím trapped in myself.
Understand my fear for life. How can your eyes see the truth, and mine see only lies? Can your eyes see my pain, and that I want to die?Ē
By now, I was obsessed. I knew. The world said I had problems, but to me it wasnít a problem. It was a way of me, living, or dying. An addiction, and I loved it. It was my way of getting through. I took as many slim pills as I could find every day. I taped my legs to make them look thinner, I threw away food by every chance I got. I kept my act all day long. I Spent hours in the supermarket studying the calories combined to every single piece of food. When I was hungry I smelled the food, to remember what it tasted like. My life was a complete mess, Iíd lost every single emotion concerning my female teenage life. Itís amazing what anorexia can do to you. How I changed, how my body changed. Everything was gone, I was a child all over again. I didnít belong in my class. They talked about relations, sex, going out, spending time with friends. I had no idea, what kind of hopes and dreams I was supposed to have as a teen. I couldnít see or feel any sexual desires. There was just nothing that they did feel. All I wanted was curling up in my mumís warm lap, far away from the harsh, mean world. Far away from my teenage life.
After Christmas holiday my life seemed emptier than before. Every stair step cost me so much energy, energy I didnít have.
One day I had to go to the toilet. After collapsing there I tried to get my view straight and walk up the stairs again, but it was just too long, too high. I couldnít. I couldnít do it anymore. School asked me to leave and only come back when I was able to walk and move properly.
they couldnít take the responsibility for something happening to me. I was furious. The only place where I could throw away food, the only place where I was not afraid to be forced to eat. It was taken from me. I was no longer a student, just an anorexic...
I was stuck at home, where everybody was watching me every second. Where people felt they had the right to tell me what to do, what to eat. But mostly I hated being at home, because I was forced to think, confronted with my life. I was messing up.
ďMirror, mirror on the wallÖ
Tell me, why do I exist at all?Ē
My weight; 36. And I felt so close to death, that it was all just a matter of time. I knew that one day I had to start eating again to, at least, stay out of hospital. They had warned me they would take me in permanently. And all that I had to say would no longer matter. If this happened I had lost, I knew that very well. I knew I had to eat, even to die, I had to eat. But I just couldnít. The whole day I avoided food, and felt guilty and afraid at night. I only ate very little all alone, because I wanted nobody to see me eating. I didnít want them to think I was a pig. Itís not that I tried to think that, it was just really how I felt. As an anorexic you have lost the truth, and only believe yourself who speaks so many lies, somebody who tries to break you up. They still often tell me Iím not fat, and itís not that I like to hear them saying it a million times, it just that my eyes changing their view when they look at me. I could see girls walking by, and saying to my mum, ďdo you see how thin she isĒ, without knowing I was just like her, often thinner. But I had to eat, because admittance would mean the end of my control. I knew they would force me to eat, I would live for at least three months without my friends and without my home around me. They told me if I lost another pond, I would be either dead or taken in. And losing more than a pound a week, I knew the end was coming. Was there a life out there for me? Did I have a choice, or would my body make it for me? Would they make it for me? It was terrible, having everybody pulling at me, while I just wanted to close my eyes, sleep and never wake up again.
I sometimes wonder why I didnít die, why did I live on? I guess I was so close to dying, that it wasnít me making a decision anymore. I had no idea what death looked like and I hardly thought about it. I was so far gone that I had no idea what I was doing anymore. I didnít think or look around because I could not bare the thought of taking up those that I was about to leave behind. I was not afraid of death, just not ready to give up life yet, I think. But then the real me came up for just a moment. I saved myself. Something inside me broke.
ďI see myself. There in this mirror. For the first time in months I dare to look at you, reflection of mine. What have I done, why do I look like this, why is there a skeleton in front of me? I close my eyes, but when I open them youíre still there. A bitter taste on my lips, hollow red eyes. I make a move and see the bones moving underneath my skin. What is there left? Tell me, what is there under that skin? Have I eaten my muscles and brain yet? Have I ruined enough inside, or do you want me to go on? You shiver? Thatís all? Just a lousy shiver for all that you have put me through? Get out of me!Ö
The world is spinning, taking my stomach along. I feel you coming up. I run to the bathroom, hurting my knees as I fall down on the hard floor. And then it all comes out at once. Ana finally makes her way out of me. Iím freed from the past, the pain and that sickening girl inside. I can flush her away.Ē
I was all alone that morning when I woke up. I could barely get up, and dragged myself to the bathroom, but that was when I took a glance in the mirror and saw myself again.
ďLittle, little girl
Please open your eyes, you are starving yourself,
stop listening to your lies.
I see youíre caught there underneath that skin,
And I wish I could help you out, Ďcause my god youíre so fucking thin
Little, little girl, donít you see what you do?
So many girls have already died. And soon you might have, too.
Just donít hate, try to be.
Just be you. Itís worth it, youíll see.
Little, little girl, we miss you every day. You can be stronger than her.
Please come out and play,
donít give up, you can win from hell and pain, I know you do.
Little, little girl, break down that wall.
ĎCause little, beautiful girl,
I just really love you.Ē
I took the hardest way out. Or actually I had no idea if I would make it out. Now, that I write this, itís been a year ago that I have been diagnosed. And they tell me I have six more years to go. These years are so much harder. As soon as you are back at normal, the crowd turns away, and only those who love you will really help you through. I had been in physical pain, but did I know back then mental pain is so much worse? I guess not, Ďcause then I would have chosen my easy way out. Yet I feel no regret for taking this path. It is just not something easy to handle when you are physically torn apart. I was tired, sad and had no idea what was waiting for me, because today is so much harder that it was when I only took responsibilities for what I ate.
Anorexia can be overcome. Thatís not to say it is easy, as I still experience every day. It ruins my body. Though, so much later I gained weight, got back my freedom and feminism. Some friendships have never come back. Some pieces in the puzzle just didnít fit anymore.
Iím sure we all go through life, overcoming obstacles and hurdles in our path as we strive to live happier and more successful lives.
But the unhappiness, depression, anxiety, grief, anger, and fear anorexia will cause, makes the way to adolescence so hard and painful. I know, cause all these things describe me. It describes me today.
ďI look forward to the day when the old me will shine through. But I guess she disappeared when times got really tough. Itís hard to accept who I am now, so fragile, so full of fear.
If only I had somebody who could be there and understand. If only I could see myself, the way you do. If only I could see myself the way you wish me to. But every time I take a glance, the weight just battles through.
I live in passive perfection, but every move hurts my skin. If only I could lose this coat. I wouldnít be so god damn thin. I just canít eat, I canít. She tells me not to. Please understand sheís so much stronger, I just canít win.Ē
ďGood damn, fuck this coat, let me out. Let me out. My life sucks, Iím worth it nothing and just want to get rid of this shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, let me out! Iíve had enough!
As I look in your eyes, I try the find the friendship we had. But right now? I see nothing. Your eyes are beautiful, everything about you is so beautiful, but still it makes me sad. I look at perfection, but that is not what I search for. Hello beautiful girl, have you seen my friend? She has been here, Iím sure. But I canít find her now. I want to tell her Iím back. She doesnít have to worry anymore, Iím making it. I just really want to see her. I want to see my best friend, who made me laugh. You know, sheís really important to me. Havenít seen her for so longÖWhy does your voice speak of the past, why do you talk about the past? Iím sure when she hears itís me again, sheíll come back. Now, donít talk about god damn moving on, what do you know, beautiful bitch! Donít walk away on me. Iím begging you to talk as my friend. But all you do is give me a lousy letter. What has happened to you, my best friend?ÖĒ
The mornings that I woke up, and wondered if I would die that day, I missed her. Would I never see her again, would she only hear about me when I had died? I felt like she abandoned me. She told me sheíd carried on, and just left me. Would she care if I had died? She might have cried, but then just for the history we had shared, the memories we cherished. Not for the girl that was lying there all alone, waiting for her to be there and tell me everything would be better. I cried so many tears, and all she wrote me was that we could no longer be my friend, that my anorexic friend stood between us, and had changed me. I had never felt so alone before. She told me she wanted to avoid me, because I was scary, she didnít see the Ďmeí when she looked at my face. I had lost my way, and searched for my friends. But she hid behind the thought of me being anorexic, and she had chosen to protect herself, and not be a helping hand, reaching out to get me through. It is hard to face that she is here now, as if sheís only supporting me through happy days. And Iím trying to forgive her, but itís hard. I should know so very well, that I was taking her down with me, but I missed her. And it felt as if she blamed me for becoming anorexic and turning my back to the friendship we had. I thought that friends would be there, always. But I guess anorexia is not concluded to the list of Ďno matter whatí. She moved on, needed to be far away from me, and I couldnít turn back time. Iíd loved to see her as my lucky star, but she could only shine for me when it was a clear, deep dark sky, not when the clouds had covered my world. The way Ann, Stephanie and Annette could. Where they stronger? Or did they care less? I should know, but to be honest; I donít. Iím just really blessed with my four very best friends, helping me through. Also Tamar. Because, although she couldnít help me up, she was physically around, giving me physical warmth in the cold months when I had nothing. She has tried so hard, and apologized a million times today. And I think time will not forget, but yet forgive me to her, and her to me.
We move on, grow up. And she owns a part of my heart, just like the other three. Nothing in this world and the process of adolescence can change my heart. It changes me as a person, and my heart grows with me, and the inner core will never fade. But some things in life are so special, so meant to be. Why would I try to break this up? Was I born to be here? Living along, finding the pieces of my heart within these girls. They make me happy. They make this world a place to live for, a place that I cannot call special without them. They were with me when I put a knife on my skin, they were there, to hold me. They dry my tears when anorexia is beating me again. Any day without them is a loss, a loss for me and the world.
ďAs you hold me, kiss my hair, hold me, protect me against the cold, I think about last night. How I cried when I read about all those girls that have already died. They will be remembered, but made me so sad. Will I join them? Or will I overcome. I want to ask you, when I wonít make it, will you miss me as an anorexic or as me? Will you remember me when I give up on life, will I be in your heart, will you take me along. I want to spread my wings, you know, I want to fly away, give it all up. Life is so hard, I cannot do this, I canít. Iím so sorry. But I cannot say goodbye. I love you, I cannot give up. You ask me to live, but I want to die. You close your arms around me, although you are afraid to break me. Please never let me go. If only I could take you with me, this would be so much easier. But you tell me to live for myself, to breathe because I want to. If only I could speak the words, that I carry and forever will take along, saved deep inside my heart. Give me time to overcome, hold me, until I can stand. All by myself.Ē
Itís a struggle of living on, in which you must trust and depend on curtain angels around. Otherwise you donít make it. You fight her alone, amd just hope they will always be near. Because even the best fiendships can be broken by the bond of anorexia and me. Everything is so complicated.
ďWe eat, even I eat. We sit here together. The two of us. And I may look quiet to you, but you should know, that Iím not really here. You see, Iím fighting within my head. Iím fighting to make this meal success, instead of, what she wants me to feel, a failure. You see, I may look quiet, but deep inside my head, there is a noise. I scream at her. Tell her she has no right to make me slip again. I scream at her, I swear, I want to move on. Eat this food, that is meant for me. Not for the toilet, nor the bin. I tell her there is no place for lies anymore. I speak of a life, that I deserve to live now. I try to explain that I have to eat this food, and not stick my finger down my throat, when Iím alone. I try to make her understand, that it is a past of me. But she doesnít want to hear what I say. Because she is my past, living along with me, in my head even today, and probably still tomorrow. Happiness can only come, when I learn to let her go. You see, Iím not really here with you because Iím talking to her, I have to. Please understand. And then, she slowly fades away as I eat little of this in front of me. Itís not much, but still you are proud. You tell me you are so proud of me, fighting back. Though you canít see her. You canít feel her, you canít touch her, you donít experience her. Though you donít know her, you do understand I can, that I do. You wipe away the tears that I cry. You donít know what happened inside my head, just then, but you understand. And youíre proud of meÖand you knowÖI am tooÖ.Ē
Everybody around would have loved to see me back to myself, but they knew just like me, anorexia takes a long time to be freed from, if you can. Though they told me last year it would take about seven years before I will have left this past behind me, I knew it would never completely go away. I will always fight my battle, fight with food, and try to eat together, instead of in an empty room, the way I like it the best. And my friends know that. Where other people think I have left it behind me, they still see me struggle everyday. So when you see me eat, donít think itís peaceful inside. If only you could know the mess in between my brains, the fight I have, you wouldnít think Iím that peaceful anymore. Though Iím doing better, taking little steps into the right direction. It takes time, time that I feel I canít waste. I want to move on, but I canít. Or maybe I can, but just very slow.
All I wanted was to be happy. But that is not something I can achieve in such a small period of time. I wanted to be a teenager, carrying a teenage body, but I was far away from that yet. Sometimes I wished I could take off the heavy coat I was carrying, step out of my life, sleep, and come back when I was alone inside my skin, without the whispering voices. But I knew, becoming anorexic also had a way back for me, that I had to walk all by myself. And it seemed that this road is a million times longer. Falling down, throwing myself in at the deep end, is so much easier than climbing back up. And when you as an adult speak about us, finding a world, growing up, then please donít think we cannot have found happiness and miracles yet, because I have. Because blessings can be found at an early age. My family and friends are special, to handle Ana the way I even canít. Iím so blessed with them. They donít hear that anorexic voice inside of me, but yet they still believe I do. I am really aware of the loving people around, they gave me courage and helped me up, every time again. I donít know how, but my eyes have changed its view.
There is so much beauty around me. Why had I never seen that before?
ďThe days are bright, and Iím being deluged with some warm feeling. As if butterflies create a piece within me. It is hard to wear clothes that show so much of my skin. I feel naked, and think about the moves I make, afraid to fall out of my special walk, that hides my body. Today I lie on the warm grass and look up at heaven. The sky is beautiful, the clouds form a moving film, changing every second, up against the clear blue background. Iím snoozing, and feeling so protected between the blades of grass. Lying here, so calm and trusted in my world, I canít help but wonder how life would have been now, if I had finished my way to death, if Ana had been stronger, and decided we had to die. And it makes me realize I would have missed all this, all the times I laughed and cried. Everything. Itís a depressing beautiful world. There are ordinary when I just try to get through. Then I wish to be invisible and dead. But I would have missed this beautiful day, the beautiful clouds, and the warmth, touching my skin? I think itís my curiousity that keeps me moving. I wanna know what tomorrow looks like. I just canít finish my life.
Life seems so perfect like this, as if there are no more worries, and no more fears. The blue colours slowly make place for a deep black, the stars shine down, when the clouds slowly move to the edge, the end of my sky. Something inside me, wants me to get up and show this beautiful sky to someone special. But when I think of it, I know that this is the same sky they lives under. There, where they are. But is the sky there as beautiful as it is here? Or is it this moment, which makes it so perfect? Then I stop thinking and just living. I spend hours looking at the stars, trying to count and know them all. But it seems impossible. I wonder if thereís someone, somewhere, there, looking down, the way Iím looking up. Would they be aware of the moment we live, here on earth, of me, a tiny teenager trying to understand the sense of this life. Would they even care, about me being here? If only I could make words for this. Would I be able to tell you? About moments like this. That, no matter what, you carry along. A pplace, deep inside, filled with memories.Ē
The best and most beautiful things cannot and will not be seen or touched. I felt them, experienced them. That night I woke up, shivering and freezing cold. Still lying in the grass. That sky, it just stuck with me. I couldnít see it, but it was still there. That night I learned I had finally put something behind me. For the first time in my whole life I saw a beautiful thing, so close to me. I had not wanted to let it pass by. It was gone, but I was not afraid to loose it.
And though I sometimes carried, and still carry, a longing for the days when I had no responsibilities and care for anyone. I guess I learned. For the first time again I made progress. I had the strength to take my own responsibilities, containing its consequences. I grew back into my life. I became myself again. Little me, with my troubles, laughter, and continuing love and support from my friends, parents and two brothers.
I continued to visit hospital, but yet it changed. I no longer distrusted them, and felt as if they really wanted to help me overcome anorexia. I talked with girls who were taking the same road I did, recovering or still going down. They slowly became silent friends. There were few I talked to, and tried to help or get help from. But yet there were also those who I saw going down. I saw their sadness and powerless emotions inside. It hurt me to see the girls, who had looked so much better before walk or be rolled in. their body, telling me it was almost over. I just hoped they would see what I see now, or atleast before itíd be too late. Loosing this battle was something I could not accept. And although every day is hard to carry on, Iíll not give up. Because this girl with her voices in my head, I will not let her win, they do not deserve to destroy me. I will fight, even if it takes me forever. I will not die of anorexiaÖ
Looking at my friends I wonder how they are able to keep on going. Why was it me who had to fall into anorexia? Why could I not fight the voices in my head, while they could? Does this mean Iím weak? It seems like everyone around me is doing so good. I know thatís not the truth but yet, I feel so easy to kick down compared to them. Still they support me. Ann has been so close all the way, never giving me up. She is there to squeeze my hand, helping me to stay in reality before I can slip back into starving myself. Iím getting my life back on track, and fighting to become real. Just real. ďWhat is real? How can I be a me?Ē. Everybody wants you to be pure yet perfect. How many would want me to be me. Just a fat me. Because when I am real, perfection is a long way from me. They tell me to be perfect, a reality, and at the same time a super woman. But guess what? Active perfection is non existable. I cannot live as a role model.
I wonder, if tailor's dummies were real people, would they still be having their period? Those designers back in Paris, New York and Milan, seem to have forgotten their not Barbie. With movements, blowouts, and time to sleep. Why do I long for just bones? I see that make-up can hide their sunken cheeks and dark eyes, but it cannot hide the sadness and desire for a normal life. I donít want to be like that. You say I donít have to. But would you still like me if I were fat and looking like a sea cow? I guess not, because we tell each other it is the inside that counts, but when I turn out to be a hippopotamus, Iíd be the one youíd talk about. I bet you would. Of course I understand that, when I go out with friends, barbies will be approached the first, because that is the first look, that is what you go for in the first place, her beautiful looks. But why is it then that people always make jokes about the less beautiful, ugly people? Everybody tells me they take me for who I am, not for how I look. But thatís so untrue. This is not how we live today. At least this is how I feel. And is this because Iím anorexic, because Iím Ďjust a girlí, or because Iím not seeing this right?
Today I watched the guys Ďreadingí a ĎCosmopolitaní. Checking out half naked models. So, then tell me, why is it they tell me they donít go for passive perfection? Why do guys date normal shaped girls when they jerk off over these thin creatures, over flat perfection?
Will I ever understand?
As Iím walking my way. I trip many times. Comments and looks hurt me, hit me. So hard, every time. Some blamed me for choosing to be sick. I know who know the truth, but there are so many people who look at me as if I have chosen to put myself through this life. Yes, almost everything I did was my decision. But in what perspective was I still alive? I was hardly there, caught up in this disease. Can you blame me for the things Iíve done? I do feel a great guiltiness for taking my friends and family down with me. I will never forgive myself for what Iíve done, and the losses I have to face now. But how far was I still myself when I took these decisions?
My mum tells me not to worry about the failures I have made, and stand strong against the critical comments of this world. I try hard not to, but itís all so confusing. Building up my life again, while everybody around me has moved on, when I was frozen. Itís so hard to fit back in that world, in my class, in my family, my group of friends, but mostly in my body.
It feels like I have come back in a horrible figure, which I have to rebuild again. I have to learn to breath with my own lungs, I have to learn to walk with strange legs. Thereís a piece missing in my memory. Will I ever share memories with friends again? Because now it just looks like they talk a language, and speak of experiences that I do not know.
I knew that the only way to overcome is not taking my past with me. The past that I drag along. I just couldnít leave it behind. I was scared I would never find myself again, that anorexia and self hate had taken over my identity.
ďI am swung around between the two worlds I live in. School and Hospital. I want to be at school all the time, I want to be there with my friends, those I miss now Iím so often gone. But instead I spend most of the time in hospital, in therapy, with a blood thing on my arm, a doctor inspecting me, a dietician speaking about food. I am here to see they do care, and no longer force me. But yet itís hard to see the point of life. Itís so hard to believe Iím worth it. I just really canít, not yet. I wish to be back with my friends. To have fun the way we used to, but there is always something what leads us back to thing we try to avoid.
ĎJust be my friend
Hold my hand
And help me through this day
Be the one
Whom I hold on
And wipe my tears away
Be my star
Wherever we are
Never let it go
Be right here
No more fear
Love, is all you show
Be my sun
Till this is done
But will this ever end
WellÖjust be you
The one I knew
Please love me as a friendí.Ē
The time has moved on, people moved on, and I slowly move along, but falling back is so easy, still today. I sometimes feel weak, as I pass by, thinking people will whisper how weak I was to give in to food, though it took me so much courage to eat. I was afraid they would think I could not resist food or pain any longer. But with so much support and love from the friends and family around, you feel better. Overcoming a struggle day by day, has brought me so much pride and confidence. Life will stop, somewhere, sometime anyway. But itís not now. So I live.
This summer I started school again. I was finally back in my class, and barely in hospital. I did have to learn to eat my lunch again. I just couldnít believe I have to eat, when my friends watch me. It hard, and the first few days I just couldnít. I either threw it away or locked myself in the bathroom afterwards.
ďSometimes I wish to take her along, but I have to choose, I have to let her go. And again, I taste my tears. I wish I were really thin again. But, noÖ I know the consequences, I know the pain it costs, itís just not worth itÖ.Ē
The months were mentally a struggle. I was on the boarder of choosing my way, back into my history or finally starting my teenage life?
But itís not a decision you make, you can make in a day. I just hope thereís an end.
ďI look in the mirror and see myself today. How will I look when Iím eighty? Probably all shrunken, but yet so much wiser. Then, will I be prettier, will I have died? Will I know what an orgasm feels like? Will I have been at the top, and now just waiting to die? Will I be loved, or forgotten? Iím a teen today, and I love it. I can still move wherever I want to. So little commitment. I can fly away or just stay. I can be almost anywhere I want to. It feels so good to be free, but yet frightening to loose this all. Will I be having children, who will take away my wings? Or will I be alone, die alone on a rainy November night? How far will I go down the hill? Will I be lying all day long in bed, being fed by nurses? Finally throwing up, and chocking in my own puke? And then? Being buried on a lonely Monday morning, with nobody who cares? Just a priest and some worms. Of course theyíll be happy. Iíll be their next meal.
Im getting older every day, and everybody with me. These are the times I wish there is something after this, something like a heaven. Because I love you. A place where Iíll find you back. So that everything I will overcome, this battle of growing up, has a reason.
The times that I took a glace in the mirror, I saw I was getter better, though I considered it then as just getting fatter. But I knew that becoming a teenager was what I was really longing for.
It was a horrible time to see how I was no longer able to fit my clothes. That almost everything had gotten too small. But I tried to move on, and not think about it. It was so weird to see I was becoming a woman, with all its emotion taken along. For the first time I experienced a sexual desire, an emotion of something I couldnít remember feeling before. Again I found butterflies inside, crushes and the close lines between friendship and love.Ē
ďYou make me breath
you make me shine
you made me fall
God, I wish you were mine.
You created butterflies
that flutter around from my head till within my toes
Why canít I stop this?
Why is it you I think about the most?
I thought I could swim
but yet drowning is all I do
Thereís nothing to hold on
In those dark eyes of you.
So youíll know how
Every touch makes me shiver
Every look brings the warmth inside
I promised myself not to go there
But yet maybe this time, I might.
Iíve lost the ground
that once was so stabile underneath my feet
Now I stumble, trip and fall
Can I help it youíre so god damn sweet?Ē
He was actually the first one, who made me feel this way again, a feeling that I had forgotten. I just felt really good, and him not being all perfect made it
For the first time I listened to a person that told me I wasnít fat. I did not accept it, but yet I listened. I wanted to believe him, since he was not a rivel, he wanted me to be as beautiful as I could be. He might not know, but he helped me along the way of recovering. I love him more with every breath, every look, and every step I take into my future.
ďI hope he knows that I appreciate him being there as I shake his parentsí hands.
As I play my role, in this well known musical, Iím expected to be perfect. Iím expected to hide the trace of Ana. Iím expected to be your perfect girlfiend, yet a good daughter, student. And a hero.
These are the times, I wish I could loose my script, step out of my character. Because am I really strong enough in this world of high expectations? Iím not.
Will your parents see through this pathetic play, and will they see that I really love you, for taking me into a world without Ana in my head.Ē
Heís that kind of person that comes in your life on the right moment, helping you without you ever asking for it. Heís NOT saving me, just showing heís there to love me.
It is those people that I wanted to take along.
My mind changes along these days. I come to realize that life means so much more than calories, numbers and looks. That while others were having fun, and finding the importance of a life, I spent my time debating how that apple might ruin the day.
But I can forget about calories. That I walk without moving the wrong way. Iím getting comfortable in my skin, I can finally breath againÖ
We all have a story, a never-ending story. In which we find love, friendship and finally death. A story in which we fear, fight and overcome. Today I no longer care if I would die tomorrow. I live my life and can finally find the love for it. I still have trouble with finding me and accepting me. As an anorexic teenager I find it hard to love my figure and inner body, but I know one day I will. With medicine and a long process my view into the world a changed. That things sometimes donít go the way Iíd like to, doesnít mean they are not going right and wonít be good for me. I will live my life, and hope to help others overcome anorexia, the way Iím trying to myself. I try to choose to use my life to touch someone elseís in a way that could not have been achieved otherwise, without me.
We all experience sadness and suffering throughout our lives. And it hits you the hardest as a teenager. Iím vulnerable, easily to hurt, but the only one who really tried to kill me, was myself. I wonder if anorexia, for me, is vanity or obsession. Once it started I had nothing to hold on to. I slipped away and lost faith in everything. Today I try to understand, was this something in which I must regret the things that have happened, or did it lead me to here, where I am. You know I love it here, but could it have been better if I hadnít fallen. Would I still have Tamar so very near? Would I have met those that have won a part of my heart today?
As a teenager I wonder how I make a difference to the world, I look for a reason for living. But somehow, though I knew I could miss finding it, I took the risk to search inside me. I have created a mess, but there deep under depression, perfectionism and self hate I found something. I do not know what it is, but it feels like happiness, it tastes like a flush of victory. Living inside a teenage skin is complicated and so different from the view that I was so used to.
I still lie about food, and everybody knows I do. I just hope it will ever be enough for me. That I can believe I donít need slim pills when I eat Ďtoo muchí. I just hope that I ever can life my life as a teenager, a friend, a sweet daughter, and a respected person. No longer an anorexic. I hope to smudge thas stamp away sometime. I know the fights with food will stay with me for the rest of my life, but they do not have to take me over and my decisions in life. Anorexia can be cured, but I long to overcome. I just donít think it will ever go away.
Through my battle Iíve seen some go down and even die. Though I did not know them, one sight in their eyes is enough to see the desire we all shared. No, itís not a desire to be thin. Itís a desire to be accepted by the world, by ourselves. How can we overcome when the world is full of diets, skinny models, and slim pills? How can I overcome when I see people around me doing exactly the same, al wanting to be thin and perfect? When is this god damn world going to see that anorexia has cost already so many lives? When will we see, that we loose the sense of life when weíre being judged. Itís sometimes bringing us so close to act of killing. Please, when is anybody ever going to see? I care and think about those who have died. Who left their families behind? I think and cry about those who were not strong enough. But I will not sit back and see how this world is going to be screwed up by the wrong message of life.
Iíd love to end this story with telling I have overcome, but I canít, because I havenít. Itís a struggle from what you may think is only fought for a while, but fighting yourself is the longest battle ever. And it has totally changed me. If you think Iíve left this behind, then Iím sorry, then you donít know me as good as you thought, because I havenít, I canít yet.
Erasing the world that I lived in is impossible. It has changed me. It has given and cost me.
But I move on, with days that I doubt Iíll find myself back, and days I keep walking. Itís difficult. And no one said it would be easy. And you know, that is so true. If only you knew. If only I could tell you.
We face, fight and overcome, always, forever. I can enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple.
I have something in my heart, that wasnít there before. But it appeared when I needed something to live for. It has kept me alive, and has lead me through. Something that will live on. A never-ending beat, kept alive by memories and experiences. Kept alive by love.
Life will always go on. And all I have to do, is moving along. Sometimes itís hard, sometimes itís not. Itís a beautiful teenage lifeÖ
That, I just really had to tell you.
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