The me who has a problem with food is fragile.
She longs to be protected.
She does not speak.
She hides away and has been invisible for years.
The me that others know.
The me that acts and covers her trembles. She is strong.
She has survived. She can conquer the world.
She speaks in harsh tones and scares people.
She takes the stage and performs with her hands in her pockets.
I block the fragile me.
I see her as weak.
I am embarrassed of her voice and her teeth-dented fingers.
I fear the me that speaks in harsh tones. I do not like her voice.
I am crumbling inside.
I feel that I have to act.
I can not show my weakness.
I can not be me.
To let the me who has problems with food speak.
To hear my voice.
Is to be less perfect.
Is to show weakness.
I strive to be good at everything that I do.
I strive to cover the huge crack that splits me in two.
I need to admit that I have a problem.
But.
If I do.
Then who will run the fastest.
People only know me.
They don't know me.
I fear the gossip and the judgement.
But.
Not being me is exhausting.
I don't want people to know.
Not even you.
Monday 23 July 2007
Diary 1993. Extract 4.
20 January 1993.
Dear D,
Mum tells dad and dad shouts. To him I am stupid and what I am doing to myself is one big game. I am playing the game to get attention.
I don’t want this attention. I don’t like the situation. I don’t like the questions. I don’t like being watched.
I hate being here, but I hate being outside too. Every conversation in this house is about food and when I am outside I worry about food.
Mum said that it used to be other parents with ‘problem’ children, but now it is her and I am a ‘problem' child.
I wish that they didn’t know.
X
Dear D,
Mum tells dad and dad shouts. To him I am stupid and what I am doing to myself is one big game. I am playing the game to get attention.
I don’t want this attention. I don’t like the situation. I don’t like the questions. I don’t like being watched.
I hate being here, but I hate being outside too. Every conversation in this house is about food and when I am outside I worry about food.
Mum said that it used to be other parents with ‘problem’ children, but now it is her and I am a ‘problem' child.
I wish that they didn’t know.
X
Diary 1993. Extract 3.
19 January 1993.
Dear D,
Dad picked Joe and me up from Manchester airport at midnight and we got home at 4am. I am shattered.
Mum has told dad about my eating and dad handled it in his usual clumsy way. He asked me what about what I was doing to my mum!
Mum had booked an appointment with the doctor. She was crying in the doctors. The doctor has said that I have to see a psychiatrist. I don’t really know how I feel about this. I have to go back to the doctors every week to be weighed.
Joe is telling his mum about my eating now and I am sure she’ll turn him against me.
I hate that everyone is talking about me.
I came back to four unconditional university places and I have to make a decision. I don’t even think that I want to go.
I can’t cope.
X
Dear D,
Dad picked Joe and me up from Manchester airport at midnight and we got home at 4am. I am shattered.
Mum has told dad about my eating and dad handled it in his usual clumsy way. He asked me what about what I was doing to my mum!
Mum had booked an appointment with the doctor. She was crying in the doctors. The doctor has said that I have to see a psychiatrist. I don’t really know how I feel about this. I have to go back to the doctors every week to be weighed.
Joe is telling his mum about my eating now and I am sure she’ll turn him against me.
I hate that everyone is talking about me.
I came back to four unconditional university places and I have to make a decision. I don’t even think that I want to go.
I can’t cope.
X
Miscarriage.
This is out of order. It shouldn’t come just yet.
But it’s in my mind.
Today.
I am there again.
Today.
I am seeing the wet red on the tips of my fingers.
I was pregnant. I was bulimic.
I was having therapy. It was not helping.
I had a miscarriage at my ninth week of pregnancy.
That was two years and five months ago.
I was selfish.
I am selfish.
I should have stopped making myself sick. I was not an adult.
I didn’t put that growing baby first.
I have been punished.
But it’s in my mind.
Today.
I am there again.
Today.
I am seeing the wet red on the tips of my fingers.
I was pregnant. I was bulimic.
I was having therapy. It was not helping.
I had a miscarriage at my ninth week of pregnancy.
That was two years and five months ago.
I was selfish.
I am selfish.
I should have stopped making myself sick. I was not an adult.
I didn’t put that growing baby first.
I have been punished.
Diary 1993. Extract 2.
January 2 1993.
Dear D,
Thought I’d better write something before I pack you! I can’t wait to go to Tunisia tomorrow. It'll be just Joe and me for two weeks.
Mum’s talking about my eating ALL the time. It’s like, just because she knows about it, she wants it all to be ok straight away. She thinks I can just be better NOW because she wants me to be. She’s watching me ALL the time.
Mum says that I should just eat.
Like it’s that simple.
I’ve told her that I’ll get better in Tunisia.
Like it’s that simple.
X
Dear D,
Thought I’d better write something before I pack you! I can’t wait to go to Tunisia tomorrow. It'll be just Joe and me for two weeks.
Mum’s talking about my eating ALL the time. It’s like, just because she knows about it, she wants it all to be ok straight away. She thinks I can just be better NOW because she wants me to be. She’s watching me ALL the time.
Mum says that I should just eat.
Like it’s that simple.
I’ve told her that I’ll get better in Tunisia.
Like it’s that simple.
X
Sunday 22 July 2007
Diary 1993. Extract 1.
January 1 1993.
Dear D,
Mum knows.
Mum confronted me about my eating. She asked me if I was bulimic. I said yes.
I said that I’d give up.
Mum said that it was as bad as me having cancer. She said that my hair would fall out and that I would get pregnant. She said that I should have more sense.
She’s right. I should have more sense. But the thing is that I really don’t want to stop.
I’m not thin yet. I actually think that I might be doing it wrong.
Happy New Year.
Mum tried to make herself sick using her fingers.
X
Dear D,
Mum knows.
Mum confronted me about my eating. She asked me if I was bulimic. I said yes.
I said that I’d give up.
Mum said that it was as bad as me having cancer. She said that my hair would fall out and that I would get pregnant. She said that I should have more sense.
She’s right. I should have more sense. But the thing is that I really don’t want to stop.
I’m not thin yet. I actually think that I might be doing it wrong.
Happy New Year.
Mum tried to make herself sick using her fingers.
X
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