Beth Lewis - A letter to my ED

Just wanted to say how much of an inspiration you are Margi, I’m trying to start recovery but I’m scared and daunted by it and I’m struggling. But I believe one day I will get there. 

A letter to my ED 

Dear anorexia,

It’s time we talked- just you and I without everyone trying to peer in. No matter what I do I will never be good enough for you. I’m sick and tired of trying to please people. One minute I look dreadful and ‘too thin’ and then the next I’m not ‘Ill enough’ to have you in my life. People say they understand and that they are here for us but they’re not- they do not understand, but how can they? It is too difficult of a concept to wrap one’s head around that one person could be controlled by their own head- by themselves. Every time I drop more and more weight i get a thrill that will only- ironically- feed you. You like it when I feel weak, you love it when I’m hungry or when I feel too tired to get out of the bath. Do you remember that time when I was walking home from the train station and I wanted to lie down on a bench because I could barely move my legs to walk that short distance home? You loved it. You relished in the idea that I was getting worse. And now? You’re practically leaping for joy. I weigh 6.5 and haven’t had my period since January- in your eyes amazing; in everybody else’s not so much. Now I’m on a meal plan and i have to eat foods that you hate and that you can’t stomach, but if I don’t eat them I’ll go into hospital. Either way we’re on a lose lose situation- and you know that. You and I both know that we’re far better off having mum’s fatty food than the hospital’s fatty food. You’re telling me that all I need is you- those friends of mine? I don’t need them, I have you; that sweet and sickly voice that whispers in my ear and grips at my stomach- feeling all of the fat and pinching at it to deflate it. Those friends don’t understand me like you do. But I’m sick of you, ana. I don’t want you here anymore. But do I? I’m not sure. My a levels have suffered because of you, so have my friendships, my family and my happiness. But am I sick enough? Am I even sick? Where is the line? I’ve already had to drop out of school because my health is more important than grades- but is it? How ill will I have to be before you are a legitimate illness? I don’t look sick enough so therefore I can’t have anorexia. If someone were to meet me now they would not know you were in my head so how can I be ill? But I’m tired, I don’t know how much longer I can carry on under your gaze with your constant scrutiny and watchful eye; ‘no no that has more than 15 calories, mustn’t eat that’ ‘oh that’s a carb, you’re gonna be bloated’ ‘cheese adds fat onto the stomach’. I’m exhausted. I’m sick of you. I want my life back. 

I’m sure we’ll talk again though, maybe in a couple of seconds, or minutes but those chats will get smaller and there will be less of them. In a few months maybe I won’t even think about you. Maybe. 



Margherita Barbieri