will undoubtedly attempt to remedy the situation and ‘fix’ themselves. This was the doctrine she and I worked under for the duration of our relationship.
But wait a moment. What sane person would agree to such terms? Firstly, I don’t think I was particularly sane or of the right mind at the time anyway. And secondly, she made it easy to commit to her. I have felt alone most of my life. Please don’t misunderstand me; I come from a supportive family, have some of the closest friends one could be graced with and have seen boyfriends come and go over the years. And yet for all this, I have rarely felt truly connected with another person. Typical of any contemporary teenager, I have never belonged anywhere with much ease or comfort and thus have lived most of my young life in a rather lonely state. So when the occasion arose, I discovered that I was more than willing to give everything to this person I had created in my mind.
Though I’m sure it is entirely strange to take an illness such as bulimia nervosa and personify it to the extent I have over the years, doing so provided me with a friend like no other. She understood all that I was and appeared to know everything I would ever be. She saw every beam of light and every hidden shadow of who I was. What’s more, she loved me anyway. And as my dependency on her existence manifested, so hers did to me. I didn’t just need her; she needed me and the bond was impenetrable. I first heard of ‘suicide pacts’ when I was child. I learned how people, often strangers, would reach out for others who felt as sad as they did and how, from there, they would agree to kill themselves at the same time, as if it would take them away together and they wouldn’t technically have to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. While I didn’t want to die, I probably would have if I thought I would lose her. But that’s all rather heavy right now and not something I like to think about.
I make no attempts whatsoever to glorify bulimia, but I ultimately succumbed to my illness because I wanted to. I did not consciously agree to the repercussions it would bring, yet I subconsciously immersed myself into the darkest corners of my mind before finally, I just let go. The sensation was freeing. You see people like me don’t just ‘let go’. Since childhood, I held on so tightly to myself that now I often wonder how I could even breathe for all those years. Nevertheless I was convinced that if I let anything go, even for a moment, my world would crash and burn around me.
***
I am nine years old. My sister Natalie and our friend Maeve play together every day. Maeve is more Natalie’s friend than mine but they let me tag along because nobody else will play with me. We each have our own place in our group of three. Natalie is the leader because she’s the oldest and the best at everything we do. We play whatever game she wants to play and do everything she says. I don’t mind because I like to play with Natalie and Maeve, otherwise I’d be by myself.
Maeve is the funny one in our little group. She is Natalie’s best friend and gets second pick of everything. She makes Natalie laugh and so I laugh too. I never play with Maeve when Natalie isn’t here. When we first moved to our new house four years ago, Maeve’s mum told her that she had to play with me. On my first day here, we went into the shed in our back-garden where all the toys are. Most of them were Natalie’s and I wasn’t allowed play with them. I was showing Maeve and another girl some of our toys and reached for one I liked most. When I turned around, the girls had run away. But now I see Maeve all the time because she likes Natalie.
It’s dark outside so we have to play in the house. We’re in our kitchen, which is very small but we like it because the grown-ups can’t see us and we can do whatever we want. One of our favourite games is a racing one. Maeve and I are given a glass of water and a slice of
But wait a moment. What sane person would agree to such terms? Firstly, I don’t think I was particularly sane or of the right mind at the time anyway. And secondly, she made it easy to commit to her. I have felt alone most of my life. Please don’t misunderstand me; I come from a supportive family, have some of the closest friends one could be graced with and have seen boyfriends come and go over the years. And yet for all this, I have rarely felt truly connected with another person. Typical of any contemporary teenager, I have never belonged anywhere with much ease or comfort and thus have lived most of my young life in a rather lonely state. So when the occasion arose, I discovered that I was more than willing to give everything to this person I had created in my mind.
Though I’m sure it is entirely strange to take an illness such as bulimia nervosa and personify it to the extent I have over the years, doing so provided me with a friend like no other. She understood all that I was and appeared to know everything I would ever be. She saw every beam of light and every hidden shadow of who I was. What’s more, she loved me anyway. And as my dependency on her existence manifested, so hers did to me. I didn’t just need her; she needed me and the bond was impenetrable. I first heard of ‘suicide pacts’ when I was child. I learned how people, often strangers, would reach out for others who felt as sad as they did and how, from there, they would agree to kill themselves at the same time, as if it would take them away together and they wouldn’t technically have to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. While I didn’t want to die, I probably would have if I thought I would lose her. But that’s all rather heavy right now and not something I like to think about.
I make no attempts whatsoever to glorify bulimia, but I ultimately succumbed to my illness because I wanted to. I did not consciously agree to the repercussions it would bring, yet I subconsciously immersed myself into the darkest corners of my mind before finally, I just let go. The sensation was freeing. You see people like me don’t just ‘let go’. Since childhood, I held on so tightly to myself that now I often wonder how I could even breathe for all those years. Nevertheless I was convinced that if I let anything go, even for a moment, my world would crash and burn around me.
***
I am nine years old. My sister Natalie and our friend Maeve play together every day. Maeve is more Natalie’s friend than mine but they let me tag along because nobody else will play with me. We each have our own place in our group of three. Natalie is the leader because she’s the oldest and the best at everything we do. We play whatever game she wants to play and do everything she says. I don’t mind because I like to play with Natalie and Maeve, otherwise I’d be by myself.
Maeve is the funny one in our little group. She is Natalie’s best friend and gets second pick of everything. She makes Natalie laugh and so I laugh too. I never play with Maeve when Natalie isn’t here. When we first moved to our new house four years ago, Maeve’s mum told her that she had to play with me. On my first day here, we went into the shed in our back-garden where all the toys are. Most of them were Natalie’s and I wasn’t allowed play with them. I was showing Maeve and another girl some of our toys and reached for one I liked most. When I turned around, the girls had run away. But now I see Maeve all the time because she likes Natalie.
It’s dark outside so we have to play in the house. We’re in our kitchen, which is very small but we like it because the grown-ups can’t see us and we can do whatever we want. One of our favourite games is a racing one. Maeve and I are given a glass of water and a slice of
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