Läsarbrev

Fifteen soon to be sixteen

It’s dark outside and the stone floor seems to be unnaturally cold against her bare feet. Stepping forward towards the hallway mirror, she leans in until her nose almost touches the glass. The next inhalation is sharp. She closes her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the raging hatred from taking full control.

We all know her. The girl that always seems to be too busy with other things to find time for lunch. The girl that always chooses the salad but never finishes. The girl that seems to spend more time cutting her food than actually eating it. We all know that girl. But I know her especially well.

When I was thirteen soon to be fourteen, my entire world revolved around food. It was the first thing I thought about in the morning and the last thing on my mind before I fell asleep. It started out harmless enough, skipping a meal now and again. Skipping a meal might not seem like such a big deal. But when you’re thirteen soon to be fourteen and realize that it’s a GREAT way to lose weight, then it’s a huge deal.

Unfortunately, the first thing that shuts down when you don’t eat is the brain. Normally even the fourteen year old me knew that it was stupid not to eat. But without a properly functioning brain it wasn’t long before dinner got exchanged with ”no I already ate”. Lunch became ”I hate the food in the school cafeteria” and breakfast magically turned into fifteen more minutes of sleep. At first, nobody seemed to notice. And I really don’t blame them. Teenage girls are supposed to be skinny. Therefore I was left alone.  Struggling hopelessly with my growing problem.

I don’t think that anybody who’s ever had an eating disorder woke up one day and said to himself or herself,  ”today is the day when I become an anorectic.” Or, at least, it wasn’t the way it happened for me. With the previously mentioned nonfunctional brain it actually took me several years to realize the absurdity of not eating. For me it was just a perfectly normal way of losing weight.

I remember thinking ”just five more kilos and then I’ll stop”. I had this subconscious belief that when the five kilos were gone my life would magically transform into a fairytale. Needless to say that never happened. Not at 40 kilos. Not at 37 kilos. Not even at 35 kilos my life seemed to get any better. Instead my misery grew at the same rate my weight dropped.

Contrary to what most people believe, eating disorders have little to nothing to do with wanting to be skinny. For some, it’s about control. For most, it’s about a suffering self-image. For a few, it’s just a particularly destructive way to get attention. For me it was mostly about control.  Control and a desperate wish to be someone else than an insecure fourteen year old.

Unable to control being fourteen and insecure, I focused on trying to control my hunger instead. Only weak people needed food. Most of the time I just pretended that I wasn’t hungry. I always was. And for not being able to stop wanting food I hated myself. Over time that self-hatred grew. When fourteen had turned into fifteen, it caused me to stand for hours in front of the hallway mirror. Forcing myself to move my eyes from imperfection to imperfection until I wanted to tear the skin off my body with my bare hands.

Nothing lasts forever and eventually the world caught up with me. If I remember it correctly I was fifteen soon to be sixteen. Training for three hours a day, wearing jeans from the children’s department and closing in on 30 kilos. By now it was impossible for anyone to deny that I had a problem. My parents had gone from not wanting to realize the truth into sheer desperation. They tried screaming. They tried begging. They tried forcing and threatening me. Nothing seemed to have the slightest effect. Back then I accused them of making my life a living hell. Today I am truly and deeply thankful that they tried to help me. It was probably the knowledge of someone caring if I lived or if I died that kept me floating.

Eventually I hit rock bottom. You see, I am and have always been deadly afraid of throwing up. Yet that is what I did one particularly horrible day. After that I remember thinking for the first time ”I need to stop this”.

And so my recovery slowly began. I will not pretend that it has been an easy road. There are still days when I can’t handle looking at myself in the mirror. But now I have the strength to push those thoughts away. Now I know that it has never been and never will be worth sacrificing your self-esteem and sanity in order to look like Lily Cole. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t care about the dinosaurs or Marie Antoinette or even the Beatles. I would go back and tell my thirteen soon to be fourteen year old self that, no matter what she feels right now, she is a beautiful person inside and out.”

Johanna Widegren, 20
johannawidegren@yahoo.se

Läs mer om kampanjen för att besegra ätstörningarna här.