Letter to Lord Voldemort (aka my eating disorder)

Dear Lord Voldemort,

I must first start out by saying how incredibly grateful I am to you. You have somehow pulled me through the darkest times of my life. This past year though, you started to turn on me. You’ve taken away some of the most valuable things in my life, and threatened to take it all away. You took my concentration and turned it on food; counting, measuring, weighing, etc.

Instead of focusing on school and my law studies I was thinking of my body, distrusting it. I was thinking of if my stomach was going to grumble during class, loud enough for everyone to hear by the way, instead of learning the language I wanted instead.

Instead of focusing while I was teaching at dance you had me looking in the mirror and examining every single inch of my body. You had me staying after and stretching extra because I had to be lean enough. I had to look the best in dance clothes. Instead of focusing on my technique in my own dance classes you had me focusing on how my stomach, my thighs, my arms looked during every single move.

I listened because you promised me it was all worth it. You promised so many things.

You promised me I would be a better dancer when I was thinner. The lighter I was, you said, the higher I would jump, the more I could turn, the more flexible I’d be.

You promised me I would be smarter. Once you’re thin, you said, the faster your brain will work. You will be better in school once you’re thin, you shouted at me.

You promised happiness and less anxiety. Once you’re thin you won’t need to worry about anything. You will be happy with everything about yourself.

The biggest promise of all. Once you’re thin enough you’ll be a blank slate. Nothing will be left of this thing once called Kylee, you told me. That you that you hate, you can change her once you’re thin. You can start over; you lied.

Then when I reached some goal I had set for myself you’d see someone thinner. Someone shorter and smaller would walk by and you’d scream out, letting me know I had a new goal. There’s another thing. You are the king of all comparison. You would compare me to everything and everyone. Not only the girls on the street, the mannequins in the window, but the light post and the doorway; inanimate objects became size markers. You took away my eyes and replaced them with scanners. Scanners that were constantly on the lookout for something to compare myself too.

You took away the warmth in my life, and the warmth from my body. You took away my life for a period of time.

But like I said. I can recognize how you saved my life, and I can be thankful for the things you gave me. You gave me momentary success at reaching goals. You taught me to work for something that I really want. You taught me that I will always fail much more than I will succeed but you taught me that I have the ability to relight that fire and keep going. You showed me that I have determination and perseverance. You showed me that there will always, ALWAYS, be someone better, thinner, smaller, taller, shorter, lighter.

You let me escape my life for a while. You let me numb all those feelings that I just couldn’t handle.You showed me what it’s like to despise everything and everyone, and how much I need to have more than one emotion. You showed me the importance of embracing the little things in life, because when you don’t everything just spirals down. You taught me that putting labels on things angers me and using numbers to define myself just makes me upset.

One of the greatest things you have taught me is that being so dedicated to changing your body  isn’t rare, in fact the rarest thing in life is accepting your body for exactly what it is. You’ve taught me that you can be unhappy with yourself at any weight, any size, so why not be happy with you the way you are.

So thank you, thank you for giving me a perspective on life. Thank you for all the lessons you’ve taught me, even if your methods were unconventional. Someday I will thank you for leaving me too.

Thanks,

Kylee