The Silent Suffering
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Writings
The words of sufferers and their loved ones.
Page 1
Beauty and PowerShe looked into the mirrorand saw pain etched into her face.Pain of being depressed,pain of an unhappy life,pain of unacceptance.The mirror, blurred and clouded,began to reflect part of her life.Childhood abuse,painful teenage years,losing and gaining weight uncontrollably.She leaned toward the mirror,her eyes squinting.She saw her struggles,her torment,her breakdowns.She saw an anorexic.A thin and gorgeous,loved and acceptedyoung lady of nineteen.She smiled at the image in the mirror.She traced the thin figure,outlining skin and bones,still smiling.'This is me', she thought.'I am on this pathand I'll look like this in time'.She held on to the imageof beauty and power.She vowed never to let go.© December 29, 1997Ali Davis
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Never EnoughBones and skin.Sunken eyes.Weakness.No will to fight.This is the disease inside of me.Pain.Passing out.Fatigue.The physical signs of my eating disorder.I want to fight,but my brain is unwilling.My body screams in pain,but my brain quiets the screams.Body and brainbattle from control and power,leaving me caught in a vicious war.© February 18, 1998written by Ali Davis
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Thinner I pinch my face and thighs,aware of the fat.I suck in my cheeksto reveal a much thinner face.I scowl at the image in the mirrorwhile I swallow back a flood of tears.Eyes clouded,jaw set,teeth clenched.I wish away my fat image,replacing it with a new,prettier,thinner me.I smile until the image fades.I am still fat.I am still what I hate most.I am me.© June 11, 1998written by Ali Davis
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TrustTwisted mirrors,distorted thinking,blurred sight.I try to trust those around me,those who can seehow unreliable my sense of sight can be.I try to trust those who know that my thinking is keeping me stuck.But the mirror,and my brain,never lie.The mirror shows mejust where I stand on the outside;the image everyone sees.My brain takes inventoryof who I am on the inside;that which no one sees.Trust the mirror.Trust my brain.Both work to show meexactly who I am.© September 1, 2001written by Ali Davis
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The GameIt started out as a game.I could trick my mindand control my body.Losing weight was easy.I starved and I threw up.Exercise, Ipecac, laxatives and diureticsmolded my body,but they ruined it, too.Yet the compliments were welcome,reinforcing my drive for perfection.I met my goal weightand set another magical number to achieve.I was in it to winand nothing was going to stop me.Not my family,not my body,not my mind.It didnt matter who I hurt in my pursuit.The game got harder and the rules changed.I struggled to keep up.I tried harder to win.I hurt my body,I hurt my mind,I hurt my soul.But I was winning.The game was a gambleand the stakes were high.But I was willing to bet it all.I started to lose,time after time,yet I was determined to win.Now the game is no longer a game.Its a way of life;a life I hate.I gambled too much.Im paying the price.I am a slave.The gamble of my body and mind was never really a game,and I was destined to lose from the start.It was the fine print at the bottom of the page;what you dont read, yet sign on the line anyway.It was a trap.I am paying my debt.My body is ruined,I dont trust my mind,my soul is dead.I am stuck in the hellThat I thought Id be able to get away from.I am tired.I am damaged.I am alone.The game is no longer fun,and I dont want to play anymore.© April 28, 2003written by Ali Davis
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The Monster WithinDaily I fight a battle with the scale,praying that each time I step on,the number has gone down.My mood depends on that sacred,flashing red number.There is a war within my headand I fight alone.The war between conflicting thoughtsmakes me confused,and I am frozen with uncertainty.If youre going to eat,you must purge.Youre slowly killing yourself.You must starve yourself.You are not what you weigh.What am I supposed to believewhen the world tells me two different things?To be healthy means Im fat,but I am fat when Im thin.There is no middle ground,and I listen to the monster within me;the monster that tells me to starveand purgeand hurt myself.The monster says that I am not worth enoughto care about myself.The monster says that Ill never amount to anythingand questions why I even try.I am not strong enoughto fight what the monster says.So I continue to starveand purgeand hurt myself.And its slowly killing me.© May 18, 2003written by Ali Davis
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Existence Your existence I have lived,day after day,year after year.You tell me that I'm fat,that I eat too much,that I must get rid of it.With reckless abandon,I listen to your every wordand comply with your every wish.What I want doesnt matter.My wishes are overrun by your demands.I am a puppetand you control me completely.You scream at me;so loud it makes my head hurt.You wont go away,despite my tearful begging.You make me cry,but you dont care.You make me hate myself.I hurt,and you laugh at my pain.The things you say to meare things I must believe;fat, ugly, stupid, worthless, beyond hope.If I dont believe these things,you torment me until I do.You point out every flawand you magnify every mistake and failure,past and present,until I see nothing good.You dug a holeand told me to climb in.Youll be safe there, you said.So I climbed inand found out that you had lied.I trusted you,hoping maybe youd be honest just this once.Now Im stuck,and there seems to be no way out.Youve extended your hand to me,but youve kept it just out of my reach.Do I really want to reach for you handand remain indebted forever?When you tell me to look in the mirror,you show me a monster.I hate what I see.You made me this way.You ruined me.I no longer want to listen to you.Im going to try to trust thosewho see me through eyesother than yours and mine.My body and my mindare no longer yours.You have to leave.You dont belong here.© August 14, 2004written by Ali Davis
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Dancing with DemonsI thought I was okay.I assured everyone that I was fine,hoping that I would eventually believe it.I thought things were great.I ignored the signsthat pointed to my demise.Denial.I am dancing with my inner demons.At first,the dance was slow.I controlled where my feet stepped.I could combat the negative thoughtsthat begged me to give in.The demons danced fasterand I struggled to keep the pace.A skipped meal here,a purge there.It was no big dealbecause I still had some control.The demons dance even fasterand I can no longer keep up.My control is gone.My days are filled with starvation,binges,purging.My nights are long, sleepless and dark.I feel guilty for my failures and lack of strength.I long for the slow dance with my demons;for the control I once had.I long for the happiness I once knew.I long to be okay.© February 12, 2005written by Ali Davis
Page 9
ImagesAll around usare images of perfection.Television and magazines,Hollywood and modeling runways.The images are the guidelinesby which we are judged.If we are not like them,we are nothing.If we dont look like a Barbie doll,we are not accepted.These images are with us everyday.We try to block them out,but these images of perfectionhave been engraved into our brainour entire lives.Women like Mary-Kate Olsen,Allegra Versace,Kate Bosworth,and Kiera Knightleyare images of societys perfect women.Women die every single day,victims of the same unattainable goalfor the perfect body.Starving and purging,excessive exercise and calorie counting,laxatives and diuretics,diet pills and ipecac.Causing permanent damageto bodies we already hate.Despite all of this,we are dying.Slowly dying.Dying to fit this image.Dying to be perfect.Dying to be thin.© October 23, 2008written by Ali Davis
Page 10
i hate mirrors.... (I am this pitiful soul begging to be empty)..:they show nothing but despair inches that hang~ not noticed by anyone else~ and the ugliness eats away ripping my skin while i sleep unknowing of the souls that are high in their beauty; yet shameful in disguise. I weep in my prison Alone, Untouched (by my own choice) covering up every part that seeps this blood and aches while screaming into the moonlight and others just watch in passing as my tears trail behind me adding one more layer to these bones. (how is it that one determines their self worth by the quest for nothingness?)written by Robin Grosch
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