by Danah Khalil
“I wish you the best in your recovery. Stay strong.”
“I had no idea that you, too, were struggling with an eating disorder!”
“I hope to see you return some day soon, but for now, take all the time you need.”
Upon creating this blog, I really didn’t imagine making the number of friends that I was lucky to meet. You see, the “recovering” community on Tumblr really is something special; people from all over the world come together to show support, seek advice, and to praise one another. Free of harsh judgments or criticism, the account really was my method of escape.
Then why did you quit it, and blame ME?
I didn’t have a choice! Recently, I came to the realization that I should try to eliminate all potential triggers in my life, and seeing as the blog was one of the first signs of my disorder, it had to go – unfortunately along with my thousands of followers and friends.
Maybe I will return to the Tumblr community one day. And hopefully, I will return alone, without Ed pulling me by my leash and whipping me until I bleed.
*****
January 4, 2013
I am feeling amazing so far this New Year.
Like I am revived.
Like I have risen from the dead.
I am muscular and toned and slim and sexy.
The mirror is finally showing me what I want to see.
Wait.
Suddenly, the mirror is laughing.
Suddenly, I have drawings all over my body,
Circles surrounding fat and stretch marks and acne.
Where did that beautiful, confident person go?
She
Fell
Into
The
Hole.
January 19, 2013
Last night I dreamed that I had forgotten to work out all day and that I had these intense midnight cravings so I strolled on down to the kitchen and ate an entire apple pie yes an entire fucking apple pie probably because my damn stomach really was growling when I finally went to bed but I really just woke up terrified and sweaty and with tears in my eyes I literally almost screamed thankfully I didn’t because that would have woken up my parents but I was just so afraid that the dream was actually real but luckily it wasn’t I mean I would never forget to work out and then eat an entire apple pie right like someone please tell me I would never commit such a disturbing crime as that.
January 27, 2013
With the arrival of the New Year, I can confidently check off one item on my resolution list: to perfect my weight maintenance at 129 pounds! I am so, undeniably proud of myself for beating the disorder and reaching my weight goal.
You think you have beaten me just because you have gained a bit of weight?
I AM STILL IN CONTROL OF YOUR MIND.
Are you, really, Ed? Just last week I ate a slice of cake and a cake-pop! I don’t feel extreme guilt or anxiety anymore when I indulge in a restaurant or take-out meal because I truly believe I have finally grasped the meaning of “everything in moderation.”
But does that make you a winner or a fat-ass?
Okay, so clearly disordered thoughts still creep into my head – quite often, actually. And sure, I still measure certain things – many things, actually. And yes, I continue to time myself while eating at home – outside of home, actually. But having gained the strength to (occasionally) beat the disorder, I can now hear my own, genuine, healthy thoughts far more distinctly.
I am not required to return to the hospital for another six months, and at this point, all I can hope is that my regular periods will continue until then.
January 30, 2013
Either I was invested in fitness and food from a young age, or I really was born all fucked up inside the pit with the demon by my side. As I was flipping channels on the television earlier today, I came across a show that caused me to think about my childhood. The extreme weight loss show, The Biggest Loser, really was one of my favorites at a surprisingly young age. I vividly remember binge watching multiple episodes on cable TV during the summer. Clearly, I must have had nothing else to do, but the fact that I kept returning to shows like that and The Last 10 Pounds Bootcamp must mean that it is simply in my nature to care this strongly about living a healthy lifestyle, no?
Yes, that makes perfect sense to me.
Me too, Ed. I’m glad we can agree for once.
February 15, 2013
Lately, I have been quite agitated about the whole “healthy” trend that everyone seems to be pursuing: eating right, working out, talking about eating right and working out…. It makes me feel like the disorder is returning to taunt me; that even when I think I have pushed it out of my head, it lingers.
I scream at the top of my lungs when people around me discuss weight and fitness. I want to yell at them all to WAKE UP and STOP CARING before they stumble into the dark hole and are attacked by the demon. I want to save them before it’s too late. Is Ed searching for new victims and workers, or have I become completely paranoid?
February 19, 2013
Haiku to Ed
I squeal and seek help,
Failing to escape your grasp.
I give up once more.
February 26, 2013
After tumbling down the stairs and injuring my lower back quite badly, I have been dumped miles away from my comfort zone into a whole new realm. I am in far too much agony to attempt even the smallest amount of exercise.
Ed keeps telling me that my muscles will turn to jelly, and I will gain weight even after just two days of rest. So what will happen in a week if I have still not recovered? How do I go from feeling so strong when beating the disorder to feeling so damn weak when Ed is winning?
The demon is still yet to exit the ring.
March 7, 2013
Luckily, my injury didn’t last long at all, and I have flown back into the warmth of my safe place.
Yes, and flown right back into the warmth of my arms.
Miraculously, I have managed to maintain my weight of about 130 pounds, too! But there is still a constant reminder that my quest for recovery is not complete just yet, since I have not had that little red spotting in my panties in months. I understand that my period has always been somewhat irregular due to my active lifestyle, but what if this is a sign that there is still more room to gain?
Stop saying that! You are already so fat!
How can someone like you be proud to call yourself fit?
CAN YOU GET OUT OF MY HEAD FOR A DAMN SECOND WHILE I THINK?
I AM HELPING YOU THINK!
NO, YOU ARE CONFUSING THE SHIT OUT OF ME.
YOU ARE ONLY CONFUSING YOURSELF.
Why must the voices in my head continue to soil my clean thoughts? I was doing so well. Just two minutes ago I wrote how about how proud I was for maintaining my new weight! How can my body have come so far in the process of recovery while my mind is still so fucked?
Most of the time, I am able to beat the thoughts – to momentarily flick them out of my head – but their frequency has kicked up a notch lately, or so it seems.
March 10, 2013
Restaurant outings with the family will be the death of me. Even now, I am constantly watched and whispered about. It makes me feel as though they still don’t trust me, despite the obstacles I have overcome to make it here. They make me think that all my progress is worthless.
“What is she ordering?”
“Is that all she’s getting?”
“Why don’t you try this?”
“Try this.”
“Drink this.”
“Eat this.”
I want to crawl under the table and cry die,while my busy mind races through thousands and thousands of thoughts as I stare at the menu.
What is more likely to be fattier, the pasta with pesto and seafood or the pasta Alfredo?
<
br /> Should I order vegetarian, or will the others complain about my “lack of protein?”
Will I be judged for requesting no sauce at all on my food?
Maybe a salad would be the best option…
but I am afraid I will get hungry.
Okay.
I can have this dish if I do an extra workout and eat a fat-free breakfast tomorrow.
Sound good?
Yes.
No one will ever truly understand the chaos that occurs in my poor head, often before I have even stepped into the restaurant. Usually I go online beforehand to search through the menu and pre-determine my order to ensure that I eat the cleanest, most harmless meal.
Even so, I always – always – come home and feel the same exact thing:
guilt and guilt and guilt and guilt,
so I stress and stress and stress and stress
and I work and work and work it off
until Ed is satisfied, and my stomach feels empty.
March 14, 2013
Haiku to Ed
I am always torn
Between your comfort and threats.
Why victimize me?
March 22, 2013
If there was some part of my body I would be overjoyed to change, it would surely be my thighs. They are far too large, and not in the intimidating, athletic way. They are simply covered in too much fat and skin.
I feel queasy just looking at them.
(Did I feel this way yesterday?)
Someone get the fat off of me.
(What is wrong with a bit of fat?)
Burn it off.
(Burn?)
Snip it off.
(Snip?)
Just get it off of me.
(With pleasure.)
April 3, 2013
My mind is caught in a perpetual turmoil of
ups and
downs,
ups and
downs,
ups and
downs.
I am stuck on a constant
D
O
W
N
F
A
L
L
with the demon, and there is no escape.
April 8, 2013
I never used to feel so shy, small, and hesitant in front of a large group of people; normally, I am a natural communicator, able to speak to and lead any crowd…. This situation, however, was far different from any other.
“Danah,” Ms. said softly to me, before gesturing toward her grade 8 health class, “how about telling them what you went through?”
I gulped as she continued.
“You can really open up – as long as you feel comfortable. I’m sure the girls would greatly appreciate your story and your honesty.”
I didn’t know where to start. I couldn’t concentrate; all I could do was wonder why the fuck I had agreed to speak about my “disturbed” past to a younger class.
All eyes were on me. I had to start somewhere. Luckily, I managed to beat around the bush about what exactly is wrong with me for quite a while; I spoke very broadly about the importance of mental health, surrounding yourself with positivity, and just how crucial self-confidence is.
This is easy, I thought, until my partner – a girl my age – asked to speak about her previous family troubles. Unexpectedly, she got to my topic even before I did.
“I have been taking diet pills since grade 6,” she said, completely taking me by surprise.
“You have?” I whispered back to her, and she responded with a nod of her head.
All at once, I felt compelled to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, because if she could come out with this frightening truth, the least I could do was utter the words that I had been dreading to say for so long.
“I developed my eating disorder last year, in grade 8, the same age as you guys are now.” I held my breath and waited for the roof to collapse over my head, or for the floor to cave in beneath me, but when nothing of that sort happened, I continued.
“It really is crazy to think that one day, you feel perfectly fine and sane and healthy and content with yourself, and the next, it’s like…it’s like…” I searched for the right words, until I remembered that I had just promised myself to tell the entire truth. “It is like a demon has invaded your mind and has turned your world completely upside down.”
I took the silence as my cue to continue. The words poured right out of me. I covered everything from start to finish – the triggers, the hospital, the voices, the fears – until tears welled in my eyes and I couldn’t continue.
I looked into the crowd of girls and saw tears in the eyes of some, which only made me more emotional.
“Wow, thank you, Danah,” Ms. said faintly, clearly stunned by how honest I’d been and, of course, by how fucked up I am.
“Does anyone have any questions for either of the girls?”
Hands shot up, and my partner and I spent the next hour or so providing advice and support to whatever questions the girls had regarding mental or physical health.
I don’t think I will ever forget the experience, and frankly, I hope that those girls don’t either. I would never want them – anyone, for that matter – to fight a similar battle. If they have to, I pray that they do exactly what I suggested, which was to be honest, get help early before they are out of control, and not to give a fuck about weight or body image or sex appeal.
I only wish I could do the same.
How can I expect to help them,
when I can’t even help myself?
How can these girls place even
a sliver of trust in a hypocrite like me?
May 6, 2013
My sister and I got into a fight today and she called me fucking anorexic, even though she knows damn well how much I fucking HATE being called anorexic. What a cheap little shot, Sis. You know, maybe when Ed attacks you, you will wake up, grow up, and realize that anorexia is no fucking joke. And maybe then, you will have a little more fucking sympathy, you dumb bitch.
Don’t be concerned about her.
I will seek revenge on my own.
No one shall ever call you anorexic again.
May 9, 2013
Am I mentally regressing every time I open up this journal to admit to my deranged thinking and messed-up behavior?
May 20, 2013
Track season has finally begun at school. Normally I wouldn’t waste time worrying about the impact of school sports on my weight. But since I am a long-distance runner, I’m certain that the extra calories I burn will cause a drop in my weight. Should I quit the team or just eat more? I really don’t want to do either. I am so sick and tired of the disorder causing me to avoid fun, whether it be going to the movies with friends or playing a game of soccer.
I have become a robot. I go to school. I return home. I eat. I exercise. I sleep. I repeat. There is no room for amusement. Ed has no patience for laughter and diversion.
June 2, 2013
Stepping into the weight room for the first real time, feeling small, weak, and foolish, was unquestionably intimidating.
What are all these bars for?
How does this machine work?
Am I doing this exercise right?
I hope to eventually get the hang of it with the help of Google, of course. Suddenly, I find myself wanting to gain a new reputation as a body builder – and as a force to be reckoned with.
June 10, 2013
Fuck.
I don’t have time to go to the gym today.
But today is a gym day.
I have already completed all of my home workouts.
There are no other workouts for me to do.
This is so stressful.
Why
is this so stressful?
I am pacing nervously in my room and I do not know what to do.
Repeat a home workout?
No.
Then I would have to repeat all three.
That would be too much exercise.
Right?
Fuck.
So what do I do?
I cannot do cardio because I already did cardio this week.
Fuck.
Why do I have to go to this stupid family event?
Why didn’t I go to the gym this morning when I had a bit of time?
Oh, right. Because my parents were fucking sleeping.
Why are they so selfish?
Please help.
I don’t know what to do.
What workout do I do?
Should I take a rest day?
No.
I don’t even need Ed to tell me how bad an idea that is.
June 19, 2013 (15th Birthday)
I woke up this morning convinced that I would automatically feel better about myself. After all, I am an entire year older…. Shouldn’t I be more developed?
You should be, but you are not.
Tell me why.
I need to see a list.
My tummy is still too flabby.
My thighs are still too chubby.
My shoulders are still too bony.
My breasts are still too flat.
My butt is still too saggy.
My mind is still too fucked up.
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
June 20, 2013
Shockingly enough, I managed to come out of my grade 9 graduation with a few leadership and academic awards, and even one athletic award that, to be quite honest, is pretty damn loser-ish, if you ask me.
Okay, I sound super spoiled and ungrateful right now, but I can assure you that I really am proud of myself for racking up these awards, and thankful for my teachers of three years who were able to recognize the good in me. You see, all I am saying is that when I imagined receiving an athletic award, I didn’t think it would be the Mike Meredith Sports Award that basically rewards positivity and leadership. My good friend won a real award for her overall contribution to athletics at my school.