Warning: this may be triggering to those suffering from an eating disorder.
Note: in therapy, it is common to refer to our eating disorders as ED.
Ed has one goal.
He wants me to fall asleep.
It's not easy, so he's done lots of things to try and make it happen.
The first thing he did was read me stories. He read them to me over and over. Each was slightly different but they all blurred together and echoed in my head.
Some had happy endings. The skinny girl got the happy endings. And that was important. Nothing else really mattered about her, like what she did or what she right about herself. The skinny girl was happy in the end.
Some stories weren't so happy. Those stories were about me or about people like me. These stories always had morals and lessons in the end. Things like "you're not good enough" and "you won't be happy if you look like that and you'll only be happy if you work harder." He's so good to me like that, making sure that I learn.
Just as a child being put to bed, the stories made me sleepy. I stopped wanting to fight this thing that I couldn't control, the overwhelming desire to sleep. Even still, I wasn't quite ready to give up. I kept wanting to get out of bed. So Ed did his best to step in, and he told me about all the monsters under the bed and in the dark. After that, all I wanted to do was hide. I didn't want to move.
I've been here ever since. The more I try to get up, the more tired I become. I think he's going to come back soon and check on me. I don't think he's going to give up until I'm asleep.