Me And My Needs Were Driving My

I Grew Into It. It Grew Into Me. It And I Blurred At The Edges, Became One Amorphous, Seeping, Crawling Thing.

It Is Not A Sudden Leap From Sick To Well. It Is A Slow, Strange Meander From Sick To Mostly Well. The Misconception That Eating Disorders Are A Medical Disease In The Traditional Sense Is Not Helpful Here. There Is No 'cure'. A Pill Will Not Fix It, Though It May Help. Ditto Therapy, Ditto Food, Ditto Endless Support From Family And Friends. You Fix It Yourself. It Is The Hardest Thing That I Have Ever Done, And I Found Myself Stronger For Doing It. Much Stronger.

It Is, At The Most Basic Level, A Bundle Of Contradictions: A Desire For Power That Strips You Of All Power. A Gesture Of Strength That Divests You Of All Strength.

We Think Of Bulimia And Anorexia As Either A Bizarre Psychosis, Or As A Quirky Little Habit, A Phase, Or As A Thing That Women Just Do. We Forget That It Is A Violent Act, That It Bespeaks A Profound Level Of Anger Toward And Fear Of The Self.

I Have Not Lost My Fascination With Death. I Have Not Become A Noticeably Less Intense Person. I Have Not, Nor Will I Ever, Completely Lose The Longing For That Something, That Thing That I Believe Will Fill An Emptiness Inside Me. I Do Believe That The Emptiness Was Made Greater By The Things That I Did To Myself.