A Letter to ED.

Dear Ed,

When will you be done with me? What is it you want with me? Do you want to kill me, to take my life? Do you want to wreck me or break me? Because I am determined not to break but I am starting to fear I might. And if that’s what you wanted then congratulations, Ed.

Where did you learn to be so manipulative?! I have been bullied before but not by anyone as cruel as you. You made me think we were friends in the beginning, that you were there for me, that you would help me. You would help make me pretty, and clever, and who I wanted to be.

But through the months and years I have come to realise you hate me almost as much as I hate you. But by then I had become reliant on you, like a small child on its parent and growing up but not learning independence. I am stuck, because I don’t know how to live or survive without you. And I don’t know what on Earth I have to do to get you to leave me. If I lose weight it will never be enough, if I gain weight you still won’t go, if I calorie count or don’t, if I exercise or don’t, if I eat or don’t. If I take medication. If I tell people. You just won’t go away will you? Are you afraid to leave me or are you simply not done ruining me yet? You have trapped me now; well done. I don’t know how to get free so here I am begging for your mercy.

I would beg you. I would destroy my dignity and come to you and beg on hands and knees please please go! Go now. I am done with you and it is time for you to be done with me.

Are you aware of how cruel you are? How much you shred my mentality, my dignity, my esteem, my self-worth. Do you feed off watching me suffer and cry? Do you feed off my stress and misery?

Why do you want to do this to me, Ed? Where did I go wrong? What made you think, aha. I think I will pick on that young girl next. I have so many questions and I know I will never get an answer; I just want you to abandon this victim. I would ideally like you to abandon all victims but I know you are contagious and take on more every day. But please, I don’t care if I sound weak or cowardly or afraid. Maybe I am. But I want you to go. What must I do?

You made me push away my family; they didn’t want to be with me because of you. I didn’t really see dad, my brother purposefully avoided me, and my mother still reminds me of how nasty a person you made me become during that time; thankfully I think that aspect has gone now. You made me afraid of life, afraid to live, afraid to literally go outside. You made me afraid to survive because you made me afraid to eat. You made me afraid of myself. And for what? What the heck have I achieved from all this? Nothing. Just a false and worthless, hateful, regretful friendship with you. I absolutely despise you, you wretched, wicked creature. I hate you Ed.

The days I feel free of you are the best days I have. They are the days I have learnt to live for. On days in which you wrap your arms so tight that I can hardly breathe, I close my eyes and remember that soon I will have another day in which your grip on me is weak. And I remember that I will not let you win. Even if you already have, which maybe you have. Maybe all I need to do is accept defeat. Just tell me that, so that I can move on.

To be honest I don’t know if this letter is getting me anywhere but I hope wherever or whoever you are you can read it, though it still doesn’t represent the expanse of the pain and suffering you have inflicted upon me. The questioning, the calculations, the weighing, the fear and dread, the doubt, the disbelief, the regret. Regret doesn’t even cover the time and energy you have taken away from me. Hours and hours and hours.

Please, Ed. I could write forever but maybe that’s a bad idea.

Just a bit more because this is so satisfying, like cleaning the grit from a wound.

Do you know how crap it is to be afraid to go to the doctor in case they weigh you?

How crap it is to be afraid of meals out?

How crap it is to feel constantly ill? Tired and weak and achey and sick.

How crap it is to be scared of food?

How crap it is to be trapped by your own fucking mind?

Do you even realise the extent of what you’re doing to me?

Do you know how much it hurts to know you’re wrecking your own body?

Do you remember the time I ate a slither of lemon meringue pie that I had made, then worked the whole thing off even though my muscles hurt and I had much more important things to do, and that actually I needed those calories? But no. you wouldn’t let me have them. She ate a bit of pie, what a crime, the guilt and shame and disgust must wreck her now.

The first Christmas when anorexia turned to bulimia and I had to leave my family to sit upstairs because I felt so ill from one of the first of many binges? Do you remember that, Ed?

The time I was sick at my best friends 18th because I had binged before going out.

The time I dabbed the oil off my plate of vegetables that I had for dinner on holiday.

What about the times family or bf begged me to eat and I said no, even when we were on holiday and wouldn’t get the chance to try the local delicacies ever again?

The time I was sick the night before my statistics exam at university because I had eaten so much?
The time I cried my eyes out in the GPs surgery when he told me I had to get on the scales, and walked shamefully into the waiting room all puffy eyed and red.

The times I would spend hours in the gym even though I had approaching exams which were much more important to me

The times various friends confronted me or my family behind my back because they were concerned about the damage I was doing to myself?

The times you made me cut myself

The times my lips went blue in college as I was too skinny to keep warm in the winter, and my feet would ache in numbness walking home, and my muscles ached with every step. It felt like the wind was whistling straight through me and pushing my nerves and bones

The times I couldn’t sleep because I was hungry

Or the times I couldn’t stay awake because I was sick

The time when the hairdresser said I should be careful my hair didn’t start to fall out, and a bit of me felt proud. Ha! I am too thin for a healthy head of hair. You bastard, Ed. How could you?

The way I would walk around the block after college because I didn’t want to go home and face dealing with you. I thought it was a way to escape you.

The times I couldn’t really look in the mirror due to sheer disgust

Do you remember the time I was really hungry but couldn’t bring myself to eat an apple. ‘Your poor body, all it wants is food’ said mum. I felt a pang of guilt but you soon dealt with that by waving your wand and making me think fat.

Do you remember my 18th birthday, when I was excited all day because I would allow myself 2 servings of weightwatchers cake for tea, at about 90 calories each. Though, I still felt guilty after I ate them. You still made me feel guilty.

The way that every morning before college I would put on my make-up and perfume, and straighten my hair, so excited about my breakfast because I was hungry. Two Weetabix with water; no milk. When I smell that perfume now, I can still smell that feeling, and the sentimental part of me can’t bring myself to throw it away. It was one of the few parts of you that was beautiful.
I remember getting so excited for lunch – a serving of low calorie soup, a 99 calorie serving of granola and a glass of diet coke. It used to be the highlight.

I remember the time I ate a green leaf salad at Nandos with my three close friends for about 20 calories, while they had burgers, chips, sauce etc. I felt so awkward.

The time my housemate asked me why I weighed my food and I had to think of an excuse, or the time I faked hayfever because you had made me cry so much I looked awful

Do you remember how my brother used to pinch my arm, shocked that he could only feel bone, and would ask mum to but she was too disgusted by how thin it was?

The times you made me dream of food and bingeing

Have you seen all how many times you made me cry?

Oh god how much more? How many more of these experiences must I endure? You aren’t my friend or my saviour. You are my biggest enemy and I will never, ever forget you.

But I beg, please, please, please go now.

From *****.


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5 Responses to A Letter to ED.

  1. robertlfs says:

    To Thine Own Self Be True

  2. Your letter to your ed mirrors my thoughts, rants and concerns with my own ed. Funny how he can do the same thing to tons of people, and with just a short period of time, create damage that takes the rest of our lives to heal and recover from.

    I think this letter is a great step in your recovery. You’re able to identify what he does to destroy you. Now when you have a thought that’s controlled by ed and not you, you can acknowledge that you and ed are not one in the same. You can tell the difference between his thoughts and yours, so you can nourish your own thoughts and suppress his. I know it’s hard, because the line between his thoughts and our own are sometimes blurred, but keep staying strong. You’re stronger and better than him; you’re caring, thoughtful and compassionate. All he knows is manipulation and destruction.

  3. Tomagcro says:

    Your not alone…there are thousands who hate ED too. My daughter has found great support at OA.

  4. Mrs Odie 2 says:

    Thanks for stopping by my blog and for writing this. Has your psych had you do the exercise where your ED writes you a response? That was so powerful for me. My ED explained to me that she showed up in my life to take care of me when the pain of what was really going on was too much for me to bear. That she has always been there, keeping my thoughts away from terrifying things. It goes on and on, but I truly recommend it. Ultimately my ED wrote that she was my friend, not my enemy. That I invited her in, and she is happy to leave at such time as I feel our relationship is no longer serving me. Problem is, the bitch always wants to stay in touch . Best, MO2

  5. Tomagcro says:

    My daughter is anorexic. She says the book “life without Ed” has really helped her.

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