A letter

Dear ED,

You tore me to pieces.
Physically and mentally.
You reduced me to nothing more than a mess of anxiety, sickness and loathing.
I've come quite far in my recovery.
I have the strength to live again, I went back to work and started to rebuild my social life.
You're still here though.
You don't talk to me quite as much as you used to, or maybe you do but I can quieten you better now.
Still you don't let me sleep through the night.
Still nights spent on the bathroom floor.
ED why did you do this to me?
I was my own person and you killed that and made me yours.
I eat better now, three months ago my weight came back up inside the healthy range.
This is both good and bad for me.
My hair stopped falling out and my energy became more again.
I eat more so you laugh at me more.
I disgust you you say.
You used to control all of me, but therapy gave me the power to differentiate between us.
I can be someone without you, I just need to carry on and find my way.
You say you do all of this because it's what's best for me, because you love me you want me to be thin.
You say you know better than anyone.
If you love me then let me rest.
I miss sleeping at night, I want to sleep when the rest of the world sleeps, not half way through the day when I'm too exhausted to stay awake.
Let me rest.
Let me heal.
Let me go.

Yours,
C