Anorexia Nervosa

I'm stick-figure thin. My skin is pale. My arms are weak. My hair is dull. My eyes are red. My body is gone.

All my life, I have struggled with an opposing image of myself. Many call it Dimorphism. Every aspect of myself is too imperfect. Little did I know that Anorexia would make it harder in the end.

I walked into my first day of high school confident. I still had air-dried hair of natural color and lust. My clothes were cute and fit my body well. I walked around with a smile on, brightening others' day. I kept going for about a month.

Slowly, I began to drag myself further into my mental disorder. I couldn't help it. I stared at pictures of girls with their bones sticking out. The Portmanteau words flashed before my eyes. Some called it Thinspiration. Others called it Hollywoodemia. Many called it Skullerexia. I stared at the pictures for hours on end. "Perfection," I called it.

I stopped eating. When I did eat, however, it consisted of crackers and a tall glass of water. People noticed. They watched. They stared. What were they staring at? Someone less fortunate than them. Someone struggling with mental disorders to no cure. I didn't want this attention. All I wanted was beauty. Quickly, I dropped to 80 pounds.

This was no enjoyment for my family. I no longer spoke to my father. I could hear my mother crying at night. My brother looked at me with weakened eyes. He knew I knew everyone at his school made fun of me.

My grades rose. I needed perfection. I spent hours a night on homework. My pages were soaked with tears from all my imperfections I had made when checking them over.

I was forced into therapy. I was pushed in, screaming at the top of my lungs. I hated it there. I never wanted to go there. The cold stings of the fake leather chairs still make me twitch. I'd sit there for hours until she'd release me, not saying anything but a simple whisper.

I lost all my friends. I only had one. She sat next to me every second and let me soak her shoulders with my salty tears. The only reason she was still there was because she was bulimic. We were both crazy.

I dyed my hair royal blue in numerous spots. The rest, I dyed black. I wore dark makeup to cover the ugly beast underneath. My clothes didn't fit. My mother wouldn't shop for new clothes until I ate.

My best friend with bulimia died. She choked on her own blood seeping from the cuts on her esophagus.

I ate.

Just because I am going through recovery now doesn't mean I'm over it. I stare at myself every day and tear at my hair. I'm not healthy. I haven't had my period in months. My eyes are red. My body can barely move. Anorexia didn't make me beautiful and perfect. It made me ugly.

Don't stare are yourself in the mirror and tell yourself how ugly you are. The only way it can result is negatively. You are beautiful. Take my word for it.

Sincerely,
SaraRose
A 14 year young recovering anorexic

This is beautiful, take my word for it.

I'm not sure if this a speech, or a journal entry, or a personal essay, but I have one suggestion which is to, ironically, put some meat on them bones. That's perhaps not the best analogy. Anyway, expand the essay. You've got all the facts; the physical decay, what you ate, and what happened. But anorexia is as much about the mind as it is about the body and that is what I want to read about: your mindset before (actually, where you talk about walking through the halls with cute clothing, that's it), during (not much of this except the part about homework) and after, which is now, right? Or soon. Or not soon but someday. Anyway. While this is well-written, extremely personal, - and I don't want to say a pleasure, I think 'enlightening' will do - there's something missing. It's especially apparant at your best friend's death: she only gets a sentence? There should be more there.

I suggest starting by taking a piece of paper and writing down absolutely everything that you're thinking. No censorship, no worrying about good grammar or sentence structure or neat handwriting. Just force yourself to do it for a period of time and see what comes out. Then take it from there.

I've found it to be a very useful way of getting inside myself, if that makes sense.

All the best.

Wow. This is deep; I read the title and I felt an electric shock go through me.

I read this, and sympathy and sadness filled me. I don't like the concept of people starving themselves when they're perfectly fine physically, while others are struggling to stay healthy and "thick" because their metabolism is so high. It tears me apart.

But I like this. Your essay, or journal or whatever this is, is very attention-snaring. It fills in the holes in our knowledge on anorexia.

I would say something in comfort, but you've already told yourself. You are beautiful, in your own way or ways. Someone out there sees you as the most beautiful girl in the world, whether you know that or not. My boyfriend kept me from mutilating myself after a beauty pageant: "I don't care if you place or not; you'll always be my beauty queen."

Keep writing. It's fabulous!

Physical Appearance:
-Nationality: Caucasian
-Height: 5’ 6”
-Weight/build: She looks (and feels) anorexic. Sickly and sickly skinny. Her build.
-Hair: Black and shoulder length, often oily from lack of care
-Eyes: Electric blue
-Picture: Does this look like a thirty year old? I hope so. But bonier features.

-Other: She doesn’t really smile but she grins once in a while. She has a two inch scar right above her belly button, a few other minor scars on her arms and legs, and a skull tattoo on the back of her neck. She appears anorexic but eats just as much as anyone (be be explained later). Has lobe piercings on both ears and a cartilage piercing on her right.

Wow Darling,

I couldn't have written it better myself. It's very good and so discriptive-I could imagine everything. Like the first one to critique this I'm not sure if it's a diary entry, a speach, or essay. Although I do give it a thumbs up. I'm Max by the way a 15 year old mother and my twin was recovering from being anorexic too. She got through it and everyone was helping her as well.

This was beautiful, shocking good, and poetic

much love
Max

A great piece of writing you have there.

Let it be noted that it is grammatically sound. That is priceless within itself. I can comment on the substance of the writing rather than the technicalities of it.

I especially like the fact that you detail the fact that even though someone is no longer technically anorexic, and is actually eating, it is only an elimination of the physical ailments. The mental, and more horrifying problems still lurk.

I realize the first comment suggested that you flesh it out, and with most writing I would agree on that fact, but the sheer simplicity and subtle lack of fleshy completeness is exactly what the reader needs to experience. This unbalanced, overly-simple semblance does the best it can to place the reader in a literary world of uneasiness that is much like your own.

As a piece of literature, I really enjoyed this. It really did it for me. Since this is non-fiction, I'm assuming that this, in fact, is your story, and I'm glad that you've been able to come as far as you have. The ability to write it down is perhaps the biggest benchmark you could achieve in overcoming your problem. I can understand from your writing, though, that some of the problem still lingers, and I wish you the best in washing those sorrows away.

Thank you for writing this. As Mars said, it was an enlightening piece, thought-provoking and poignant.

The writing style is straightforward and honest, and I appreciate it for that. Self-image is something young girls struggle with and it's important to address. I feel like you hit all the right notes, pitch-perfect. The beginning is captivating. It's like a spell, somehow, ending with 'My body is gone'.

I'm sure because it is a personal topic to you, so it is good to see that you're not glossing it over. There's nothing good about this kind of starvation and perfectionism, and you demonstrate that. But at the same time, the allure of perfection looms over this entire piece, something that cannot seem to be shaken off. It's a terrifying aspect, and I think that point hits home the hardest for me. It was just a subtle realization that I too crave for this, that my steady thoughts of self-worthlessness could lead me to a path not meant to be taken.

Thank you. I hope that you, I, and every other teenage girl in this world will learn to overcome these images embedded into our brains.

Best of luck,
octo

This is so touching. It made me really sad, and sent shivers up my spine - it really did.
It's written really nicely - it's so easy to understand yet so professional. You show us right inside your mind.
I can't see any mistakes, so my only advice is to keep on writing - it's amazing!

Sara Rose, hey. I've been out of treatment for anorexia nervosa for about two years now; been through the hospitalization and relapse and hell.I lost years and years of my life. I might have been one of the girls in your pictures. I'm still fighting the fight each day.
I'm a 19 year old recovering anorectic. And I'll be recovering until I'm 80, if I get there.

But. I've found it's a battle worth fighting for. PM me if you need someone who "gets it" to talk to.

-Mandolin

Letter to the Little People:

I am beginning to get things on track again. Hopefully, I will begin writing out my entire journey, piece by piece. And, hopefully, you all will listen.

However, I'm warning you; it may take a while. Going back on that is hard on me. I have to take breaks. The more I talk about it, the harder the writing gets.


Love always,
SaraRose