Eleven: My Confession to You, Ana

Dear Ana

Years and years, I suffered a metamorphic abuse. I was trapped inside an endless haze. I remember lying on the floor and pleading for help while I allowed you to consume me. In fact, if this were to continue, I would be nothing but a chalk line on the floor. My slender body would be found with only remains of what used to be.

Perhaps I should note: I was a confident girl before you came along, Ana. I knew what it was like to smile and actually mean it. I was a carefree, naïve, innocent young lady. I loved life and saw beauty in everything. I had a thirst for knowledge and a will to explore life. Sadly, nothing gold can stay. You taught me that, Ana – not Robert Frost. I was introduced to you by a mutual friend known as Puberty. I suddenly began to hate myself, who I was, and how I looked. I would avoid the mirror in fear of what I would see, or the voices I would hear. Then I found out that you were giving them the microphone. The voices told me how worthless and ugly I was, how large and round I am, how I am not working hard enough. You were fueling the voices to tell the negative things and I believed them.

We have been through so much together, Ana. You were there to watch me through my repetitious cycle. Every day, I would go through pointless rituals of cutting my food into small portions and measuring every ounce of food that entered my body. You stood there and watched me from a distance, while I waited for a nod of approval from you. You were there for me when I couldn’t leave the bathroom until that same food exited my body. You were disappointed then though, weren’t you, Ana? You were afraid that I was going to leave you for Mia, so you told me to work harder – don’t eat anything; then you won’t have to purge it all away.

Nothing taste as good as thin feels, right Ana? You pounded that in my head until eventually; I was unable to put anything in my mouth. I thought I was finally pleasing you. I thought I was getting beautiful, even though everyone else around me was telling me how sick and unhealthy I looked. I thought they were jealous. I thought they were trying to tear you away from me. I had to hide you at this point. You and I were a team. We were going to live together, or die together weren’t we Ana?

The only solution was put me into pure isolation. All I needed to live was my music and poetry. Sitting alone in my room, I would listen to you tell me if I was doing a good job or not. At the end of the day, I would be so exhausted that I couldn’t sleep. I could often hear my heart beating in my chest, afraid this may be my last breath. I remember my Mother coming in at night while I pretended to be asleep. She would put her hand on my chest to make sure I was still alive. Ana, you didn’t only destroy me; you destroyed my hopes and dreams. You destroyed my confidence. You destroyed my family. You made my Mother cry. She didn’t think I loved her anymore. You made my Mother think that going to work and leaving me here alone was a bad idea. You made my little brother not want to hang out with me anymore because I made him too sad. For the first time in my life, my 11 month older sister didn’t understand me. You made my friends at school question me. They would ask why I didn’t eat lunch and I lied and said I already did. Was saliva my meal, Ana? You seemed to think so!

At my lowest, I thought of taking my own life. I would begin to cover my wrist with my favorite rock band accessories because I was so ashamed. If you weren’t going to kill me, I would do it myself. I hated everything. I was spiraling out of control and numb to the world. I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself. I prayed to God every night to make this one my last. I couldn’t endure your abuse anymore, Ana….yet I always woke up and dreaded every second of it. I couldn’t endure the hunger anymore, the exhaustion, the looks people were given me. My poetry was turning nothing into solitary, melancholy confessions. You took pleasure out of my pain. You never cared me about me, Ana.

I am still here to tell my story but you are not in my life, at least not like you used to be. Sometimes you come by and visit but I quickly rush you away. I cannot have you in my life and feel comfortable, or even breathe. I feel like me again Ana. I just wanted you to know that I can’t hear you anymore. You have been muted. This is me letting you go. Goodbye, Ana.

Sincerely
Katrina