Turning Veins into Gains .................................................... Anonymous

Turning Veins Into Gains

Nonfiction by Anonymous

“There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever. There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn’t matter anymore.” —Laurie Halse Anderson

The idea that something that was once a very dark and sad place could blossom into a greater perspective on what truly understanding and loving my body means is one of the biggest personal milestones I’ve accomplished to date. I could have never imagined that a decision made in one day would lead to a seemingly endless fight I had to break through for the following five years.

The First Meal Missed

Let’s refer back to the year 2014; times like these were blurry, yet so distinct. I was just a kid then, twelve years old to be exact, sitting in a dark space that was my room. The only source of light came from the unfinished assignment radiating from my laptop, the smell of baked chicken wafted in from the kitchen, and the sound of laughter could be heard from my family, who was having one of our then “nightly family dinners.” What seemed like a warm, inviting environment wasn’t really the case. Now don’t lose me here; support systems are only half the resolution to problems such as mine. In my case, the only form of support I received came from online support groups: Tumblr pages, Reddit forums, and even online articles written by those who have gone through the same issue. “Issue.” What a seemingly simple way to put it; what a simple way to describe the indentations of bones visible through the surface layer of skin, or the uncomfortable shade of white fluorescent light glistening off the tiles of my bathroom floor. “Simple” is a perfect way to inaccurately describe a seemingly overlooked battle that unfortunately takes the lives of 10,200 people yearly: one death every 52 minutes. Support is something I began longing for. Not the support of a significant other, friends, or even my best friend (and cat) Oliver, but the support of my family.

Fight Or Flight

“Wake up! Wake up!” The voice was distinct, yet my head was in such a fog that I couldn’t seem to put a name to it. Through the commotion of my family trying to wake me up, all I seemed to focus on were the sirens blaring and echoing through the walls of my house, the cold shiver of my skin against those all too familiar bathroom tiles. The faint weeping of my little sister caused me to feel instant regret; not even I could comprehend what was happening. At that moment, there was no stronger feeling than the pounding of what seemed to be a never-ending headache. This marked the first of many hospital visits that were to come; unlocking a memory that would later become the highlight of my physical and mental journey back to wellness. Unfortunately, eating disorders aren’t easily broken, nor are they simple to start. What seemed like a small decision to skip lunch and dinner that one day five years ago snowballed. I can make it half a day without any food then one day, I thought to myself; I’ll be fine. Simple choices on meal decisions grew into a mindset: the mindset of hating food. Overcoming any mental issue can never be easy, but mix that battle with physical deterioration and you have the recipe for a fight for survival.

My Outlet

I changed my perception of my eating disorder from a controlled portion of my life to just another variable I had yet to overcome. I knew I needed something more than just a therapy session or a medication to get through this; I needed an outlet. I am very competitive. Losing is not an option for me; whether it be a life-threatening situation or a small argument, I refuse to lose. Now I’m much too impatient for drawing. I couldn’t be a poet, and I