THE UN-BEAUTIFUL SIDE OF ANOREXIA
- Luka
- Nov 8
- 2 min read
Truth? Sometimes anorexia feels beautiful, glamorous, & like you're on cloud nine, but after years of being a slave to it, I've seen a side of my true love that is like poison to its rose. What begins as something marvelling and enticing soon develops into something much sinister... far more sinister than I could've ever anticipated.
The shame.
Seeing the destruction your illness is causing is easy for an empathetic mind to turn into the destruction you are causing. Detaching yourself from the illness is challenging. And so instead, many sufferers find themselves blaming themselves, hating themselves, wondering how to live with themselves, knowing that they are destroying everything that should be good about friendship and family.
The arguments.
The screaming matches, the fortisips slammed down on kitchen counters, the plates of food shoved purposefully in the bin, the harrowing crying... These are the arguments that anorexia imposes on families. The arguments are unlike any other because the raised voices are just a disguise of what's really beneath, and that is endless, complete love. Anorexia makes everything beautiful come out as ugly. Anorexia is ugly. But perhaps the ugliest thing isn't what it takes but what it destroys. And it destroys friendships, it destroys families, as they watch a beautiful person slowly kill themselves at the hands of something that they still, after years, implicitly trust. And those around them are forced, like prisoners, to stand screaming, helpless, behind the bars of their love.
The extreme thinness.
I've hit my lowest so many times that even my sickest became unsatisfying. Instead, I find myself continuing to search for a sense of comfort amidst a number that could kill me. Thin evolved into deathly, and the fact that my fear doesn't outweigh my desire is terrifying, not just to myself but to everybody around me. It’s also incredibly distressing for everyone involved to see something shocking grow into something far more, to an unimaginable degree.
I’ve come to believe that there isn’t a beautiful side to anorexia, which is a progression in my journey of recovery. Now, I just find all of it so incredibly ugly because it’s relentless havoc, its resulting hopelessness, and its imposing grief become a torturous, endless cycle.
Kisses,
COS x
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