Letter to my Eating Disorder

I’m sure you already knew this was coming, but just to be clear, I’ll spell it out for you:

I will no longer plan my life around your schedule. I don’t care what you think or need or require. I am tired of putting your needs first. I require freedom from you. I will continue to think and act for myself. You are no longer a part of this equation.

Consider this a break up letter. What you want and what I want are two very different things. Yes? You are concerned with keeping me obedient, quiet, small, scared, frail, dependent, alone, miserable, sick, malleable, anxious, sad, weak, manic, frightened, muted, controllable, naïve. I am concerned with keeping me me: strong, safe, happy, independent, alert, active, healthy, vibrant, sharp, radiant, productive, unafraid, trusting, capable. We are not on the same page. Lets face it—it will never work out this way.

So stop calling.


I don’t want to speak with you or hear from you. I don’t want you popping in unannounced to criticize me for this or for that. You have no right to tell me what to do or what to eat or what to think or what to feel. Now, I’m sure it will upset you when you see me going on with my life. It will kill you to know that I am happy, but please, just keep quiet. It’s none of your business. You are my past. There is no place for you in my future.

It’s over. We’re over.

Can I put it any more clearly?

If we see each other in passing, please be prepared for me to ignore you. I will not be cordial. I will not ask how you are doing. I don’t care how you are spending your time. I don’t want to hear about whose life you are currently destroying. I just hope that she will also see what a parasite you are: what a ridiculous waste of time and energy.

So this is goodbye.

I would thank you for all the memories, but frankly, there are none. You have been deleted. Erased. Forgotten.

I can’t hear you.

You aren’t even a whisper.