Dear Ed,
Before I truly bid you farewell and begin my journey through recovery, I wanted to take the time to thank you for everything you have done for me in the past 5 years.
You found me at the lowest of lows, when I was struggling with purpose and identity and you filled that void. When my swimming career was over, when my grades were slipping and when I felt like my life was no longer mine, you were my new hope.
You made my life finally feel like it was mine again, when everything I thought I knew and did best was rapidly slipping away from me. You picked me up off of the ground, gave me a renewed motivation and provided me with a tangible goal.
It was no longer grades and goal times--it was calories and pounds. You were my new sport to excel at and my new subject to conquer.
For a while, you tricked me into thinking I was perfect and invincible, which made me feel powerful and in control.
You cheered me on, pushed me and encouraged me. You said: “another hour on the elliptical won’t hurt you,“ and “only a few more pounds and then you’ll stop.”
I loved thinking that I had such control over my body and my urges because it made me feel superior—superior to my teammates, my parents, my friends and my old self.
My sense of self-worth became dependent on you, and thus you only grew stronger within me. With you enmeshed in my head, controlling my thoughts and actions, my life would never slip away from me ever again.
Ed, you made me feel pretty. You enabled me to finally not hate my body. With you in control, I never had to deal with the pain caused by the words “those don’t look good on you,” or “that style isn’t for your body type.” Finally, I could feel comfortable in my own skin and not ashamed of my stomach or my thighs.
Yes, Ed, you supported me for a while, but then you started to scare me. The feeling of control that you provided me with turned out to be a mirage. I started to realize it was not I who had any control; it was you.
You had complete power over me, which left me weak. You told me to keep going, to keep pushing when enough was clearly enough. I, on my own, started to realize that you were the one in complete control, not me. But a part of me liked your presence—it was safe and familiar.
You helped me achieve many of my goals, in a very twisted way. You helped me stay on the straight and narrow for some time. You told me that my friends and family were not worth my time.
You told me that the gym and studying took precedence over everything else. As a result, I was successful academically and athletically. You helped me appear to be that perfect child.
But then, you changed. You became less predictable, more erratic and more severe. You drove me to my breaking point and then began to tear me down piece by piece. You drove me crazy. You told me to not eat for days in a row and then some days to eat everything in sight. You told me to run 10 miles some days and to lie in bed alone and depressed other days.
It became nearly impossible for me to regulate you. You started to worry me. You no longer gave me that sense of satisfaction. Instead, you made me feel hopeless. You took over my mind, my soul and my body. You made me feel sad and ashamed, so I hid you the best that I could. I pretended to be free from you, but lying was so tiring. I couldn’t stand living with you anymore, so I suppressed you in hopes that you would just leave me alone.
You drove my self-worth to zero—to the point where nothing seemed to matter anymore and where I had no idea who I was. You made everything dreary and lifeless. My increasing sense of hopelessness only pushed me towards you—you were all I thought I had left. I felt trapped. I felt numb.
The closer I got to you, the more I lost myself, and, eventually I became you, which I hated. You were everything I never wanted.
So now, dearest Ed, it is time to say goodbye to you forever. I am ready to be myself once and for all. I am ready to be the smart, beautiful, insightful and lovable person that I know I can be.
Without you, Ed, I am going to live the rich and full life that I deserve. I am finally going to be able to love who I am—body, soul and mind.
Most sincerely,
Emily
