Of all the therapists I have seen, all the psychiatrists who have treated me (or at least tried to) trying to find out the cause of my eating disorder, one word is always at the forefront. Invisible. Ever since I could remember, I have felt invisible to people. 'Felt' is an understatement. I am invisible. Or at least that's what it seems like to me...
My whole four years at university have been marked by one constant question: "How is she?" It has been one constant worry - would today be the day I got the phone call saying she was in hospital? Would today be the day she became another statistic? A third of anorexia sufferers die from their disease - and my biggest fear is my sister becoming one of them.
I see how amazing and rewarding life can be, and although I have grown as a person from my experiences, I am upset at the amount of time my illness has made me waste. During these months of the year, when there are festivals after festival, surrounded by many a mealtime, I am trying my best to enjoy and acknowledge the beauty and root of these joyous times.
Many of us with eating disorders, like to personify the illness as a separate person or voice. 'Ana' for Anorexia and 'Mia' for Bulimia. Don't get me wrong; Ana is definitely not a 'friend' even though the internal voice I hear says otherwise. Personifying my eating disorder is definitely something that I found rather useful in my road to recovery.