For years I never mentioned that I was an anorexic in my past.
But as the years passed I slowly starting talking about why it happened and accepted that it was part of me.
Years had passed so I thought that it meant I was over it.
I was wrong.
In the past month, my grandmother had a stroke, rats invaded my garage and started eating everything, bills are piling up, and my small family is crumbling.
Each day brought something new.
It would have been easy, so easy, to stop eating.
The temptation was there.
I was not hungry and unlike everything else, eating was something I could control.
It was a control.
When my anorexia started, it was merely something I could control.
My then husband controlled where I went, who I hung out with, even what we ate.
He did not like healthy foods, he loved fried foods especially fast food.
It was an ultimatum that I went with him and often his dad.
So we went out for hamburgers two or three times a week.
Slowly I stopped eating anything greasy, then anything fried, until I was down to almost nothing.
What happened? Eventually I woke up, I told him we needed help and he left.
While my anorexia was bad, it was far from being severe; yet, it still affected my health for years.
There are still residual effects, especially when I get stressed.
And while the past month would have made it easy to go back, I knew better.
Yet...
It was still hard.
I had to force myself to eat.
Twice friends asked how I could eat the things I threw together to make certain I ate vegetables and meat.
Then my grandmother died.
Things went in mad rush, I was not hungry and had little time to eat, but I did at least once a day.
The breaking point.
Then just days later a friend started chatting with me.
Her children went to visit their fathers, she was so depressed to not have any children at home.
She was upset that her parents kept visiting and telling her to eat.
She was not hungry so she was just going to eat the minimum calories possible, so she was asking me how many calories were in coffee, creamer and sugar.
I told her to just eat.
She was upset.
"I am not hungry!" Recovering anorexic In that moment I realized ex-anorexic was not correct.
"Just eat," I begged softer, she told me how she needs to lose weight and she is not hungry.
I was not hungry either, but I want to live.
I want her to live.
It would be easy to stop eating, but I want to be strong.
I am a recovering anorexic.
I choose to eat.
I choose life.