Dear Diary (Fictional)
By Erin
This is a fictional journal entry about a female teen struggling with anorexia.
September 20, 2007
Dear Diary,
It’s just me again. I haven’t written to you in a while, but I just can’t hold this in anymore. My feelings are bubbling inside me and you are the only one I can talk to about them. So, here it goes.
It was just another truculent day at school today. Oh, by the way I learned that word at school today. It seems to fit right in with my life. Kids were making fun of me, teachers were worrying, and on and on. I am getting sicker and sicker everyday. I need help and I know it, but there is no one to go to. The closest family and friends I have are the ones making me this sick. Once again you are the only one that knows my real story and who supports me just by listening. Some day, maybe, my mom or dad will find this and then they will understand what it is like. How they make me feel when they say such piercing words of dissatisfaction. How can they not notice what they are doing to me? Do they still love me?
Seventeen years old and a size five is who I am or at least who I was. I used to be happy with myself. I used to be the girl every guy wanted and I accepted that. Now, if a guy looks at me I look the other way. He doesn’t want this, I think to myself. It isn’t good enough. Oh, how did I get this way? How? Deep down I do know the answer, but why wasn’t I strong enough to stand up to it? God made me perfect in his eyes, but I don’t accept that anymore. Constantly, I think that I need to be skinnier. I need to eat less; I need to work out more. More? Listen to me. I am a high schooler who can’t control herself anymore. I am now a size zero and weigh a hundred and one pounds at five foot seven. I work out twice a day, once at five in the morning and once at four in the afternoon. I hardly eat. Actually, do I eat? You can’t even consider what I do eating. I don’t eat breakfast; I have a bite of a salad at lunch and some fruit for dinner. I am always languid, never having the energy for fun. I am throwing my life away. High school should be the some of the best years and I want to be able to enjoy my last year. I can’t go on like this, not anymore. First I need to face how I got here to begin with.
You already know the story, but for my sake, diary, I need to write it down again. Beginning of junior year is when it took root. My mom started telling me that I shouldn’t be eating that ice cream because she was starting to tell I had gained a few extra pounds. I didn’t worry about it too much. Sometimes she could be like that. Then she started telling me I was eating too many carbs and sugar. I didn’t think so, but it still got to me. Later another incident took place. My sister came home from college and she commented on how my clothes were too big for her and that I couldn’t barrow her clothes anymore because I would stretch them out. That’s when I started eating less. I couldn’t take that kind of ridicule. I had always been involved in sports, so I was always in shape and I thought I looked pretty good. However, I started thinking to myself that I wasn’t really in shape. I needed to lose some of this fat here and there. So, this is when I started working out more. At first it started as a “just lose five pounds” deal. That would be healthy and it would make everyone happy, at least I thought so. It became a disease though and I couldn’t and can’t stop it. My friends noticed I wasn’t eating as much when we went out. They always told me to eat more, but somehow this bothered me. I took it as I needed to eat less. Don’t ask. It was now the middle of junior year. I broke up with my boyfriend because I thought I wasn’t good enough for him. He pleaded with me over and over again. He told me I was absolutely gorgeous, but in the back of my mind I could hear my mom and sister saying I need to stop this, I need to do that. Then I started noticing the models in magazines. They were absolutely gorgeous and they were skinnier than I was. So, I continued to spiral downward. My mom still nags at me every time I eat something. I walk down the halls and everyone stares. The looks from the plus-sized girls to the looks from teachers cut me open as if I am still not good enough.
Good enough? What does that even mean? Who I am not good enough for: my mom, sister, friends, myself? Deep down I know I am good enough for God. He will always love me no matter what. I don’t have to be skinny for him to love me. Isn’t that all that matters? As long as I have my Lord, who cares what other people think. If I am good enough for God I am good enough for myself. Diary, I think I am ready to get better. Gain some extra pounds, tell my family what they are doing to me, get professional help, and get my life back on track.
Wow, that was an intense entry. But, guess what? It made me finally ready to get back on my feet. With God on my side I will overcome this issue and my senior year will be the best time of my life.