by Danah Khalil
Despite all of the crazy, mixed emotions and ideas running through my mind, the one thing I know for certain is that I do not want to see that I have lost weight as I step on the scale tomorrow.
Really?
Yes, because I realize that would be a terrible sign.
You are kidding, right?
You starved yourself for four days and you don’t want to see positive results?
But why must more weight loss be the only answer, the only positive result? What’s so wrong with maintaining my current weight?
Maintenance is for losers with no self-control.
Shit.
Guess who will not be getting any sleep tonight.
I will be too busy dancing with Ed in my nightmares.
Nightmares. Nightmares.
Good night.
Don’t let the demons bite.
April 27, 2012
100 pounds.
NO!
Yes!
NO!
Yes!
Shut up and be proud.
It’s better than gaining weight, fat-ass.
April 28, 2012
I have become the regular topic of everyone’s conversations. Everyone’s. Whether I’m at school, at home, or at soccer, I am constantly judged and gossiped about. And the result is quite simple: the more everyone continues to talk, the less I listen. The pressure it adds to my narrow shoulders and terrified soul only makes matters far, far worse.
The guidance counselor, teachers, parents, friends – they all worry. Why must everyone worry about me?
Worry.
Worry.
Worry.
WHY DON’T THEY JUST MIND THEIR OWN BUSINESS AND WORRY ABOUT THEMSELVES?
They cannot possibly understand my situation, anyhow. I am playing a completely different game than they are.
So, what is the point?
What is the point of my family lecturing me about my new diet?
What is the point of seeking a dietitian, a nutritionist, or some professional?
What is the point of everyone pushing me in the “right” direction?
What is the point of discussing my “issues” in the guidance office?
There is no point.
April 29, 2012
I never took this journey down the trail of transformation, intending to wander so far that I couldn’t turn back. Nor did I ever intend to affect the lives of loved ones with my collapse. I didn’t mean to make them worry as much as they do. This combat is no longer just between the demon and me.
My metamorphosis is expected to end where it all began: inside of me. Inside of my seething brain. To retrace my steps, to fall back into old routines, to go back in time, to stop myself from falling into the demon’s first trap…I must destroy the new me. I must break free of the demon’s grasp. I must climb until I escape from the dark, lonesome pit. I must avoid Ed’s hungry eyes. I must ignore his shouting – place my hands over my ears, shut my eyes, hug my knees, suck my thumb, and rock and cry until this miserable nightmare ends. That is all this truly is; one B I G, terrfying nightmare.
April 30, 2012
Up to now my mother has never uttered such powerful, cruel words to my face. Of course, my immediate response was to cry and to wallow in denial.
The words slid off her tongue much too easily.
“You have an eating disorder.”
Sticks and stones…
Your mother is a bitch, anyway.
May 1, 2012
My first appointment with a dietitian is scheduled for this Wednesday, and I am far too numb for the severity of the situation to sink in. Writing it down, hearing the words…it has become totally meaningless to me; it simply slips right by.
But I do wonder. Will I be forced to do as she says?
YOU ONLY TAKE ORDERS FROM ME.
But she is a professional.
BUT I AM FAMILY.
Okay,
okay,
okay,
okay….
But I should at least take what she says into consideration. Baby steps only, I promise.
I will tear this dietitian bitch apart.
No one dares to step between you and me.
Fine,
fine,
fine,
fine….
I won’t agree to gain weight, but I do want to stop these conflicting thoughts of mine.
Deep down, you know that I am not going anywhere.
May 2, 2012
“It is not about the weight, and certainly it isn’t about the calories. It’s about prioritizing and repairing your emotional and physical health.” —Dietitian
I promise (not) to replace my three
daily fruit snacks with higher-content options.
I promise (not) to consume richer grades of
milk, yogurt, cheese, and cereal.
I promise (not) to add an additional snack
upon arriving home from school.
I (do not) understand that
athletes require starch for energy.
I (do not) understand that the weight
I gain will be favorable fat and muscle.
I (do not) understand that I will appear
much healthier having gained some weight.
Regardless of the situation, gaining weight is immensely discouraging and unpleasant, whether it is necessary or not. The suggested changes are tough pills to swallow, for the truth is stuck in my throat, refusing to go down. I guess this was all bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be this difficult to accept.
Somebody please, please, put me out of my misery.
May 5, 2012
Once strong, toned, and aggressive; my athletic build has fallen behind me.
Now weak, scrawny, and frail;
my confidence has vanished from within me.
No longer beautiful, radiant, and energetic;
my aura has decayed within me.
I still dream of being healthy, muscular, and fit.
But in order to accomplish this ideal image…
must I truly gain weight?
May 6, 2012
Mother, Mother
Your lips quiver; they cause your words to shake.
Your nails are raw, bitten right down to the nub.
Your hair is graying; it twists and twirls through your nervous fingers.
Your eyes fidget, avoiding my pleading gaze.
Your voice is hushed; it exposes your fear.
But trust me, Mother, no one is as afraid as I.
You guilt my soul until it crumbles.
You pull the strings of my heart until they snap.
You beg and beseech until my ears shatter.
You pressure my disorder until I cave in.
You fight the demon so it will surrender.
But trust me, Mother, the demon does not lose.
May 9, 2012
The calories were delectable,
spreading comforting warmth down my throat…
Like Smirnoff and Grey Goose.
The calories were painful, spreading cruel apathy through your heart…
Like arrows and knives.
May 13, 2012
I h a v e a n e a t i n g d i s o r d e r
a n d I n e e d h e l p .
No more denying, no more hiding. The ink has been applied to this page permanently; the words have been released from my lips into the air for all time. Admitting the cold, distasteful truth is, inevitably, the first step to my recovery.
But you do not want to recover.
May 19, 2012
I was moisturizing my legs today after exiting the shower and could not help but notice how strong, tight, and muscular my calves felt. It must
be because of all of the calf raises I have been doing before bed.
May 20, 2012
“Eat more + exercise less = weight gain.”
The answer should be crystal clear with everyone shouting these words in my face. So why do conflict and doubt haunt me and compel me to run in the opposite direction?
Run faster.
Farther.
Do not stop.
May 24, 2012
The most difficult pill of all to swallow during this quest for recovery is the knowledge that I was finally fucking satisfied with my body. So I ask myself, why should I tear apart all of my fortified self-esteem? Why must I undo my hard-won self-control?
May 25, 2012
“I’ll get it!” I exclaimed, as the ball scooted behind the net and down the path once more. For about the tenth time I sprinted to retrieve it, and brought it back at breakneck speed. “I gotta work off that slice of pizza I ate last night,” I said, panting, as my teammates exchanged furtive glances.
“Yeah, okay. You know that is probably only burning off, like, one bite, right?” one of my friends snorted.
Fuck. She was right. Why isn’t practice more physically demanding? Far too much time is spent talking and just standing around.
SOMEONE BRING ON THE FITNESS PLEASE!
I HAVE FAT I NEED TO BURN OFF!!
WHERE ARE THE LADDERS?
THE HURDLES??
THE CONES???
PLEASE!!!!
May 30, 2012
Despite the dietitian’s orders, the doctor’s warnings, and my family’s pleas, I still find myself secretly wishing to remain the same.
SO STAY THE SAME!
But it is so difficult to ultimately love myself when discouraging words are constantly spat in my face:
“Unhealthy,
Underweight,
Unnourished,
Unhealthy,
Unhealthy
Unhealthy,
Unhealthy.”
They force bigger portions down my throat. They badger me again and again.
C a n ’ t t h e y s e e t h a t I a m t r y i n g ?
But are you, really?
May 31, 2012
Daily Intake:
Breakfast
1 cup shredded wheat cereal
1 miniature 0% fat fruit yogurt
1 cup skim milk
1 banana
1 water bottle
Morning Snack
1 apple
100-calorie packaged cookie
1 water bottle
Lunch
2 slices whole wheat bread
1 slice low fat cheese
1 piece romaine lettuce
1 water bottle
Afternoon Snack
1 orange
100-calorie packaged cookie
1 water bottle
Dinner
* TINY PORTION OF DAD’S DISH ALONG WITH 1 WATER BOTTLE
* CARB-FREE MEAL IF POSSIBLE
* NO EVENING SNACK – DRINK WATER IF HUNGRY
Daily Sweat:
Home Workout
30 squats
30 calf raises
30 push-ups
30 crunches
30 sit-ups
30 weighted back row push-ups
30 weighted bicep curls
30 weighted single triceps extensions
30 weighted knee to elbow crunches
30 weighted cross-punches
1-minute plank
1-minute 6-inch feet lift
30 sun salutations
10-minute stretch
Cardio
1 hour walk with dog * PUMPING ARMS; FAST PACE
Soccer practice/game OR 30-minute treadmill run
June 6, 2012
Life has been treating me very unkindly, lately…. I suppose life is much tougher for many other people out there, but I am still practically just a child! People my age should only be concerned about boys, school, and friendships; not demons, disorders, and dark holes.
To genuinely accept change and commit to it is exceptionally challenging. Thankfully, I have persuaded myself to begin making slight adjustments to my diet and restrict my daily exercise to a smaller chunk of time, but I am still struggling with the addition of larger snacks and the idea of eating “junk food.” The disorder is forcing me to stay within its boundaries, and unfortunately, junk food is way beyond its barbed-wire fencing.
I repeatedly question my mother’s tactics. How can she expect me to obsess less about my eating habits and my body while all of her endless bullshit forces me to stress even more about it every damn day?
To make matters worse, she and the doctor had the marvelous idea of enrolling me in a “special program” at the hospital where I will be surrounded by other fucked up, far-too-skinny teen girls. I’m not certain when this will begin, but the moment it does, I will officially be branded as an “eating disorder patient.”
June 9, 2012
I am not ready I am not ready I am not ready.
I am not ready to fully commit to the idea of gaining weight.
Neither am I.
It appears as though everyone expects it to come so effortlessly. Surely they must be thinking Why hasn’t she just gained weight already? It’s so easy! Ha! It’s obviously much easier for someone who does not have an eating disorder. How is it that no one is able to grasp the concept of keeping weight off?
As opposed to taking the “easy way out” – eating more, working out less – I remain almost exactly the same as before; I am unable to break my habits. I’m still obsessive and obligated to plan out my daily meals, and the idea of food, on the whole, still utterly terrifies me. I refuse to consume any food not on my daily meal plan, no matter how badly I crave it. My self-control is so powerful that I don’t even need to think twice about it anymore.
June 10, 2012
Exams are approaching, but I am finding it increasingly difficult to prepare because the only two subjects that ever seem to cross my mind are food and exercise. My grades really have dropped this year, and it is not because of the greater workload or the more challenging material. It’s because Ed has forced me to become undisciplined in my studies.
Well, duh.
School is a waste of your time.
Imagine how much skinnier you’d be if you weren’t cooped up in a classroom all day. Besides, the only education you will ever need from now on is from me.
June 12, 2012
Just a couple of hours ago, I was pressing my ear to Mother’s bedroom door, listening to the most excruciating of conversations. She has now formally admitted me into the clinic program at the hospital,
and
I
feel
like
dying.
I am certainly not in a position to commit suicide at this time. But the mere idea of it – stubbornly nestled in the back of my mind, practically begging to be released – has tempted me on numerous occasions to give it serious thought. I have been trying my hardest not to pour that dark, dreaded thought onto these pages, but in the wake of my enrollment, I knew that it was time. Although I am not certain of when, I know that the sessions – and the torture – will soon begin. I have already been warned on several occasions that if I do not gain weight, I will be fed through tubes.
NOBODY UNDERSTANDS WHERE I AM COMING FROM!!! It is not my fault that my mind restricts weight gain and additional intake. People with eating disorders are panicky about overeating and are, essentially, controlled by a second personality. How can I possibly be expected to gain weight when I have a demon constantly running its mouth off in my head? My fears of food never fail to stand like strong, tall barriers to my recovery.
June 13, 2012
I restrict an
d I refrain and I retreat and I run. Mom bitches and cries and pleads and yells, thus creating a monstrous cycle of negativity and reluctance. She is always right up my ass and always right under my nose. Right now, more than anything, I just want to be left ALONE. No family, no friends, no demon. Will I ever get back to normal? Can I return to the moment just before Ed took complete control; back to when I could eat and exercise without fuss, without planning, without calculations? It is far too late for that, isn’t it? Ed – the demon – has crept inside of me, opened wide, and swallowed me whole. Recovery seems virtually impossible. Shouldn’t I just give up—
Get real, honey.
You were never really trying.
Or should I fight my way through the unhealthy thoughts? It is too challenging to decide, when all I can see is darkness inside the hole.
Me against the disorder…
Me against the demon…
Me against myself.
June 14, 2012
Current weight: 97.89 pounds.
Goal accomplished!
I c a n n o t b e s a v e d .
June 15, 2012
Nobody will ever truly be able to figure out why I continue to avoid help and the outstretched arms of my friends and family. I can barely comprehend any of my own actions or thoughts myself. Can anyone out there patch me up or break through my tough shell? Will anyone be able to read these lines and discover the true cause of it all? How do I explain to people that some sort of demon lurking in my mind is what controls me? Will I ever be able to escape from this new, scary me?
As I continue to stumble farther and farther into the darkness, deeper and deeper into the murky water, and lower and lower into the familiar pit, I know that I will never be strong enough to come up for air and fill my lungs with sweet, calming wind – nourish my mind with positivity and clarity. I will never be strong enough to break free from the grasp of the demon that is pulling me down.
This dangerous, dark spirit has simply wrenched my world
a p a r t.
June 19, 2012 (14th Birthday)
I wonder if…