Ellie is my own trigger point.
Every Anorexic is an individual, and has their own unique Anonymous.
Every Anonymous is an individual, and has their own unique Anorexic.
No two are the same, and no two are shared. Anorexia is a selfish disease.
We are soul mates. Her love is my drug.
An addiction, an obsession.
A possession: something to control.
I ran to the safety in predictability and routine. I ran to an identity: I ran to Anonymous.
I ran from Ellie and her triggers.
Anonymous can control what Ellie can’t: the anxiety, the shame, the hate and discomfort she felt in her own skin.
Hating the person I was, and the desire to destroy it, started within hours of my first day at university.
It was only after I lost all sight of who Ellie was, who I was, when I met Anonymous. She filled the gap, she gave me a purpose. She made me a better person.
I was my own trigger.
We can’t control life, but we can control how we react to it.
So I let Anonymous do it all for me: she was my constant companion, always there to reassure me that everything would be ok.
I trusted her more than Ellie to know what is best for me, and to make the right choices.
We are defined by our choices, and so I became Anonymous.
Who is Ellie?
“Who is Ellie indeed. You don’t need her. She is out of control: fat, lazy and greedy.”
The body reflects, but does not represent.
My body is not Ellie, and Ellie is not my body.
In recovery, Anorexia reacts to threat.
Changes and challenges or any sign of Ellie triggers violence in Anonymous.
It’s because she knows she is under threat. She is terrified of Ellie too.
Each Anorexic has their own individual trigger points.
Some can’t eat cooked food.
Some can’t eat salty food.
Some can’t eat grains, cereals, fats.
My list is endless, so I shan’t share it here. I am ashamed of it.
Ellie is ashamed how abnormal my eating habits have become in the pursuit of safety.
Anonymous is no longer a safe option.
She also has her trigger points: moments that send both her and me into raving, panicked tantrums and evil, evil plotting to cut corners.
She is trying to cheat me out of recovery.
“Drop that on the floor, then you really won’t eat it.”
“Pour it down the sink”
“We are winning”
Lies lies lies.
And it’s because she knows she is under threat. It seems Ellie is her trigger point too.
Food has triggered something in Ellie. Senses, feelings.
Ellie is sick of feeling scared of social interactions.
Ellie is sick of people flinching if she wears shorts.
Ellie is sick of bursting into tears at the sight of a baby, something she fears she’ll never have.
Ellie is really, really sick of being cold. I live in Singapore: it’s constantly 32 degrees here and yet I shiver.
Ellie is sick of collapsing, of feeling weak. I represented my university in BUCS rowing events.
Ellie is asking: “Hey, what’s that about then?”
Ellie is sick of being sick.
Of feeling hopeless and helpless. And scared, bullied.
I haven’t felt pretty in two years.
Sick of it all.
These are triggers to eat.
Through pain and blinding white panic, but to eat nonetheless.
Following a meal plan is hard.
Too much food, too much anxiety. Not enough control.
Gaining weight is pretty hard too, at the moment.
There is no fast forward button in recovery: nothing to make me normal again.
Food has triggered my metabolism to get somewhat erratic and over excited: until it recovers from being in overdrive, I have to keep feeding it. Or we all crash back to square one, and have to start all over again.
I have to eat.
That bit is really really hard.
Recovery is a minefield of triggers, for everyone.
I am still Anonymous.
At the moment, I am ruled by her, and by Ellie.
But also by appointments, meal plans and numbers.
Kg, lb, st.
Ellie can’t believe her life is being dictated by numbers.
She hates numbers (never did thrive at maths.)
Ellie is an English student and a human being: she only wants to be defined by her feelings and suppositions. The things that lead her to Anonymous in the first place.
Food has triggered feelings.
Fear during the day.
At night though, if I have been good and eaten; I feel empowered.