Last week was National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, and I never finished my obligatory “I hate anorexia” post. I had planned on describing my experience with the disease. I was going to tell you how I suffered for eleven years, how I weighed 70 pounds, how I refused to eat more than 200 calories a day, and how I was forced to dropout of school (twice!) to go to treatment. I had intended to throw in some gruesome details about hospital stays, ambulance rides, residual health problems, and diet pill overdoses. I was hoping to include some statistics, too—pie charts featuring mortality rates, bar graphs with instances of relapse, colour-coded information about demographics, etc. I had even picked out some literary-rhetorical devices to enhance the gravitas of my manifesto. I was supposed to convince you that anorexia was the worst thing in the world and that recovering from it is the best thing you could ever do. But I can’t, because that would be a lie.
The truth is I loved being anorexic, and I loved anorexia. It made me happy like nothing else ever had, perhaps like nothing else ever will. I genuinely enjoyed losing weight, and starving myself gave me an irreplaceable sense of self-actualization. I found solace in every pound that I lost. Each new bone that protruded was a badge of honour. Exercising five hours a day became a point of pride. Hunger made me feel elated, and there was no euphoria like resisting it! I delighted in the scared looks from strangers on the street. I greeted each hospitalization with a smug smile, because at least, they meant I was doing something right. Cutting up a protein bar into seven pieces and eating it–and only it–throughout the day was thrilling. And most of all, there truly is no greater joy than stepping on the scale and seeing that you’ve reached your ultimate goal weight.
But Let’s Get Real—that was this year’s theme, after all—there are other things I want to do with my life; I have hopes, I have dreams, I have goals, I have plans. I want to go back to school to earn my PhD in English Literature. I want to be Shakespearean scholar. I want to publish a variety of criticism and lecture at universities across the globe. I want to act in the Royal Shakespeare Company. I want to write a novel. I want to dance. I want to win a Tony. I want to perform in Carnegie Hall. I want to fall in love. I want to get a dog. I want to visit Australia. These are all things I cannot do with an eating disorder, so I have to make a choice. Anorexia is an all-consuming illness. It’s it or everything else. And I choose everything else; I choose a life, I choose the future, I choose recovery. Not because I want to, but because I have to.