Eating Disorder

The thing i hate about being anorexic is the way stupid, narrow-minded people treat me because of it. According to them, i am attention-seeking and sad. Sad, yes, but attention seeking? No. I hate telling people about it, the way they look at me like I’m dangerous, or a bad influence. But when i don’t tell them, they guess anyway, and there’s nothing i can do about it. I hate the way they're so patronising, so sure that they are absolute fucking heroes for pestering me constantly. They give me that look, eyebrows raised, and ask 'and what have you had to eat today, Lucy?' in that now-stop-being-silly-little-girl-you-know-this-is-not-the-right-way-to-get-attention voice. Either that or they don’t believe me at all.

But i cant stop. Some people find it so hard to believe that you can not want to eat, but they don’t understand how hard it is to start eating once you've stopped. You'll look at a steamy, hot meal, and your stomach is on fire you need food so badly, but yet the LAST thing you want to do is eat it. Because then you know you'll either have to sick it up again, or face the guilt that you were too weak to say 'no'.

And i know how bad it is for me too. Everyone tells me how much I’m hurting myself, how if i carry on ill die and I’m abusing my body for no good reason. I fucking KNOW that. I know it makes my hair limp and greasy, makes me come up in spots all over my face and back, makes me pale and have a horrible taste in my mouth all the time, makes me so weak if i so much as walk briskly ill pass out. But its what i deserve. I’m punishing my body for being so fat, for being different, for being ugly and disgusting and making me feel sick I’m so horrible. When I’m doubled up on the floor crying my eyes out because I’ve had no sleep for a week and the cramp in my stomach is eating me alive and i just want to die, i know i really deserve it.

But the very, very worst thing about anorexia, is that, well for me at least, there is no end to it. Oh, you can start eating a couple of small morsels a day to please your mum, and you can start to look healthier and feel a bit more like yourself again, but sooner or later a bitchy remark from another girl, or a pair of jeans that no longer fit, and i go spiralling downwards again. Its a horrific cycle that I’m trapped in, never ending. And i am completely alone in it. No-one understands. Sometimes it seems that the only way out is to starve myself until i finally die, but i never seem to get that far. There is no cure for me. I’ve seen every psychiatrist, therapist, counsellor, I’ve been force fed, I’ve tried so hard bring myself out of the nightmare I’m caught in. But i always end up in a hospital bed, with a drip stuck into my wrist and my worried mum sitting beside me. This is never going to end.

Lucy Kettle