Anorexia is a parasite. It’s a parasitic illness that ruthlessly invades and feeds on the human form. Its forceful grip slowly suffocates; drawing every drop of life and bleeding victims dry. But without a host, a parasite is nothing. It has nothing.

I guess that’s what makes them so persistent and so challenging to be rid of – they’re utterly dependent.

But the irony is, it’s fear and dependency that’s instilled in their victims; an infiltration of the parasite’s deepest insecurities that make home in an innocent host. An innocent person.

And that person never gets a say. They never get to choose. They’re often unaware they’ve even been infected until the parasite’s so deeply embedded that its vile presence begins seeping out – leaving an unavoidable, devastating trail of destruction that scars both the victim and those around them. Friends and family become involuntary witnesses and casualties of the torture inflicted on their loved one.

The parasite’s entire existence is a heinous act of self-preservation. Its uncaring agenda seeks to destroy and deceive; manipulating minds and masking its intentions as comfort. As safety. As certainty.

But the only certainty anorexia offers is uncertainty. Because with a shrinking mind and a shrinking body and a shrinking world comes growing darkness that soon becomes too heavy to hold. And life suddenly carries a question mark.

Life?

That’s a choice only one person can make. It’s a choice that can feel so cruel and unfair; one that was never asked to be made yet demands a response. And it’s here the parasite festers; attempting to lull the victim into a false sense of security. Convincing them that it’s a trap, and that the only question mark is the one following “who can be trusted?”

Recovery is arduous and painful and messy. There’s no respite; it’s a choice that’s made moment after moment, and it’s hard. Healing is hard. But anorexia is agony. It’s a suffering that words can’t begin to describe.

And so I have chosen life each and every day for three years now – and I’ll keep choosing it every day I’m given, until I’m old and grey and the choice is no longer mine to make.