Friday, 14 January 2011

Lies, Damned Lies....

... and Anorexia.

If Anorexia is a faceless figure in an old black and white horror, then deceit is the dark cloak wrapped around the shadowed form.

As a fourteen year old, I watched as this graveyard figure misted around the sister I adored, breathing lies and cunning into the mouth of her soul.
When she spoke, it was with a new voice; a voice of distrust, defence and guile.
I hated the dainty steps of deception that I heard moving so quietly along the upstairs landing; from bedroom to bathroom; from sink to window, from hand to mouth to toothbrush. I hated watching the cloak pass over her - through her, each time stealing away a piece of the sibling I loved more than myself.

Lately though, I too have taken breath from the figure. I understand now, that same desperation, which shakes the pounding heart, and will go to such lengths to protect and disguise the disgusting truths of an anorexic existence.

Fingers pushing against the wall of my throat, I heave and retch, praying to keep silent.

My dad knocks on the door and asks to be let in.
I am washing the last of it down the basin, frantic, talking all the time.
I let him in.

"What were you doing just then, with your door locked?"
I search in corners furthest from the truth.
It must be feasible. It must be shameful.

I can't bear the look in his eyes.

"I was... weighing myself".
I manage to whisper,

He wraps me in his arms to comfort my despair.
"Oh love... " Words of comfort pump shame around my body. "It'll all be okay... Just as long as you're not secretly drinking or making yourself sick"

A couple of days ago, a similar scenario. This time, I'm sure he knows.

Eyes watering, throat burning, nose running.
I was washing my hands.

Not only does Anorexia make liars out of its prey; it is, IN ITSELF, a lie.
It's a throat grabbing, heart stopping, life sucking LIE.
And although one part of me knows that this lie is fundamental to the discovery, diagnosis and medical definition of this disorder, another part cannot possibly disbelieve the truth of what I see and feel.
It doesn't matter that that 'truth' is a distortion.
It doesn't matter that it may be a deception.
What matters is that no matter what the scales say, the truth is, it's never small enough.

Sucked in.


  1. I'm so sorry WS. We may be from different parts of the world, but I know what it is to watch a sibling struggle. I know what it is to be stuck in a dark place and be afraid for anyone else to know. I'm thinking about you and hoping you find some comfort soon.

  2. Your dad sounds nice. It sounds like maybe he will walk this road with you if you will let him, or to the extent you can let him. I bet he'd rather be able to be with the real you, whoever that is, than an image you put out there to keep him mollified. I don't know that I could ever try that with my own dad (as nice as he is), but hope that you can.

  3. I'm so sorry you are struggling so. I understand hiding your secret from those who love you. I wish I had some magic words. This is a awful disease that kills. Please please take care of yourself.

  4. HI WS

    sigh...........I am so sorry you are in the grips of the diseases tight hold of painful deception. I wish I could make a difference - be that turning point, but I can only be here, praying hard and holding you in virtual space.
    Love Gail

  5. I am so sorry for what you are going through. Like Gail said, I wish I could make a difference. Being so very busy in trying to settle in this new American life of mine, means i am not around so often. I do however think every eve of my sisters in pain, my mates on the road, my followers on this journey. Hugs and love, Paula

  6. "....the truth is, it's never small enough." I have's not the truth...but a lie...a deep horrible lie. Why do lies sound so much like truth? Hang tight okay....

  7. Hey all?
    Your kindness and sympathies makes for pretty uncomfortable reading...
    I guess that in many ways, I have brought all this on myself and therefore cannot accept much in the way of 'so sorry (s)' etc.
    I'm quite unwell at the moment. I realise that.
    What I don't know, is quite how I am going to recover, or indeed, IF I am going to.

    Thanks for reading. x