A Message To My Ana

You know what?

Fuck you.

Fuck you,

you lying,

manipulative,

abusive,

evil

bitch.

I’ve been down this road before.

I know where it leads.

And I’m saying right now

I. Am. Done.

I’m done with the rules,

with the pain,

with the guilt,

with the never-ending,

suffocating,

agonizing,

all-encompassing

self-loathing.

You say I need to lose ten more pounds.

What for?

So there’s less fat on my sides and back?

It’s there to protect my organs.

So my thighs and ass are thinner?

My body structure and being a bio female ain’t gonna allow

for the body of a male.

So I can see my ribs better?

Yeah, that’s cool, but I don’t need it to be happy.

What I do need

is to stop listening to you,

stop obeying you,

stop doing everything you say,

stop letting you make me feel guilty and shitty.

I know this doesn’t work.

I know it’s not gonna get me a partner.

I know the joy it gives me isn’t really real.

And I know that it doesn’t end,

it never ends,

it always gets worse.

So, I’m making it end.

I’m making it stop.

Because I’m not happy.

The rush of seeing a lower number is an illusion,

the demon masquerading as joy.

The disguise is effective enough to fool me again,

ten years after this began.

But no more.

There is literally no point to this.

“I just wanna get to the low 140s.”

Why?

It literally makes no difference.

Yes, I would weigh less,

but in the grand scheme of things

It doesn’t matter.

“You tried living healthy and still hated yourself.”

And listening to you is gonna fix that?

‘Cause I’m pretty sure you just make me hate myself

more

a lot more.

You make me afraid of everything I eat,

guilty for eating anything,

severely limited in what I “can” and “can’t” eat.

You make me feel alone,

scared,

weak,

strong (for continuing to destroy myself),

paranoid,

confused,

like I’m weak,

worthless,

fat,

hideous,

disgusting,

pathetic,

unable to control myself.

Tell me why I should ever choose to keep feeling that way.

“You’ll be happier with yourself if you lose ten more pounds.”

Doubt it.

I’ve dealt with you before

and even when I was 5’10” and under 100 pounds,

I still hated myself,

I was still miserable,

and I still thought I was fat.

I’ll never be happy with you.

Never.

Yes, I have a goal weight this time,

but what happens when I get there?

I’ll have some satisfaction,

but more likely than not, I still won’t like my body.

Starving isn’t the answer to feeling good about myself.

Starving isn’t the answer.

Strength isn’t in restriction.

Strength isn’t in resisting most food or

eating once a day.

Strength is getting help,

finding someone to talk to,

fighting that voice,

doing what I need to do to get better.

I thought I could let you back into my life

and kick you out again when I lost what I wanted.

But you burst in,

tied a noose around my neck,

wrote up the rules, and

kicked up your feet to stay.

I thought I could tell you what to do,

when to leave,

but I can’t.

You don’t work that way.

So, I’ve had it. Officially.

You’re out,

gone,

no longer welcome here.

I don’t care that you don’t wanna go.

I’m gonna make you go.

You don’t make me strong,

my mother makes me strong,

my friends make me strong,

my music makes me strong,

my therapist makes me strong,

I make me strong.

I was naïve, letting you back into my life,

but now I see you again for what you are,

and I don’t want you.

I want to be normal,

to be healthy in body and mind,

to not focus on calories,

to not be confused by an offer at food,

to not feel like I have to earn food,

to not be afraid.

I don’t want to be afraid.

And you make me afraid.

You turn me into a shadow of myself.

So, I’m gonna go it without you.

I’m gonna learn to love myself my way

and I’m gonna work to not be scared anymore.

I know I’ll probably see you again in the future,

but for now

Good-bye.

And good riddance.

P.S. Don’t keep in touch.