EVERYBODY gave up on me. This disease was the ONLY POWER I had--and I considered any attempt to stop me as deadly a threat as if it were the Viet Cong. I would not submit--and even those who said they loved me got real fucking tired of me.''She's gonna die--I've done all I can do.'' Yeah, I was a handful--all 78 pounds of me. If they watched me eat--I needed only half a second of their inattention to hide food in my clothes--If they got on me about exercising--I exercised in the dead of night--with the fan turned on to cover any noises. I had an intervention--but the positive effects of it took years to appear. So my saviors gave up. ''I am willing to help save her life but if it's not within the next-- like two seconds-- I'm ready to take credit for trying and give a great eulogy at her funeral.'' IF YOU LOVE AN ANOREXIC--DON'T GIVE UP. Their resistance is not a personal slap at you--it is all about the only security they know.
Amen! Because I was loved and my family did not give up on me I am so much better now! It is nice to feel alive inside rather than dead. Your journey through this dark disease and your courage to fight and claw your way out of it is an inspiration to many who need to hear that there is life out there to live and enjoy. :)
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