Perfectly Okay.

A girl's journey.

She stared greedily at the plate of hot, mouth-watering fries.
No. Control, Mia. Control.
She desperately tried to look away.
But it was like the fries attracted her towards them. The smell, the sight of them.
And she was so hungry. She was always so hungry. Last she ate...well. Let's not.
She shuddered, and then reached out, and grabbed one. She was done. She couldn't take it anymore.
She devoured the entire plate, and even licked off the salt and oil.
She immediately felt happy, her mind at rest. This was what she needed. What she wanted.
Her feeling of euphoria lasted for mere seconds before those all too familiar feelings of shame and self-loathing swelled up in her. Tears stung her eyes, and suddenly her jeans felt too tight.
Her stomach rumbled, and she ran to the bathroom, letting out all her anger, disgust, shame, sadness and pain in the form of the food she had just eaten.
......

Mia was sixteen.
Dreams of being perfect had filled her head from when she was a kid. She wanted to be tall, beautiful, a cheerleader, popular, cool, someone people admired and liked.
Her older sister, Jenna, had turned out that way. She personified perfection, and Mia was so used to her taking the spotlight that at times she had to remind herself that she existed.
But then, it wasn't that way for Mia. Far from it.
Mia was fat. She hated herself. She hated looking at herself in the mirror every day, seeing a fat, ugly, unhappy girl stare back at her, with a look if deep loathing.
She had tried. She ran, she exercised, she swam, she went to the gym. But no, nothing worked. Every time she exerted herself, she would have her hunger pangs and cravings, and after self-debating for ten minutes, she would finally dig in, first one, then two..and then ending at five bags of chips and one entire bottle of coke.
She tried. They had to give her that. She tried.
But she was so tired. Nothing was working. She weighed exactly the same she did last month, and she looked at the mirror and still saw that same, ugly bloated girl staring back at her. She was so tired of herself, so tired of the world, so tired of being overshadowed, underestimated, laughed at, and ignored, that she was desperate to matter, and she was desperate to change herself to make people like her.
But nothing worked, and she was on the verge of giving up.
And then, she discovered a new way.
...

The first time she had ever made herself throw up, was at a birthday party, when she was fifteen.
It was her then best friend, Rachel's birthday. Loads of people had been invited. The table was laid with the finest, and her most favourite food.
She ate so much. She couldn't stop eating.
Eating was her way of feeling content, of feeling complete.
And then when all of them were playing spin the bottle, and when James, who was Mia's crush spun the bottle and it landed on her, Mia was ecstatic.
And James said, "No, anyone but that pig."
Mia was hurt beyond belief.
She got up and excused herself and went to the bathroom.
Was this the life she was going to have to lead? People calling her a pig everywhere she went? People talking behind her back, Mia forever remaining overshadowed and judged and miserable about herself?
The bile rose up in her throat. She bit it back at first, but then went and took all of it out.
All of her anger, her pain, her sadness, she just let it go.
And it felt so much better.
She was going to be okay.
As long as she kept doing this, she would be okay.
At least, that's what she thought.
...

Two years later, and Mia still disappeared into her bathroom after every single meal.
Not only that, she felt such acute pain sometimes, she didn't know where it came from. It was so so painful. And during those moments, she would grab a box cutter or a knife and cut away at her wrists, too. That gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. It hurt, but it made her feel so much better.
Her family noticed the change in her.
From being a plump, round-faced girl with a lovely face, Mia became rail-thin, frail, and weak. She often had blackouts, and was almost hit by a car once.
Long wounds traced her arms and wrists. It was scary to pook at them.
She looked in the mirror, hoping to see the perfection she always wanted, but this time, it was a pale, weak girl, with dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks sunken, and her hair dank.
She looked dead.
She was scared by her own reflection.
She never meant for things to go this way.
Yet, it was addictive. The cycle, how she satisfied herself by binging on food and eating enough for three people, and then letting it out almost immediately after, along with all her raging feelings and emotions. That was so easy. But was that really what she wanted?
...

She couldn't even lift her schoolbooks in her arms.
Her vision was blurry, and she felt so weak, so tiny, so petty.
The next thing she remembered, she was in the nurse's office.
Her parents, and the counsellor were in front of her, and they demanded to know what was wrong with her.
After ten long, terrible months, she finally let my feelings manifest in the way that is normal. She broke down in front of them, and told them everything.
They were appalled. Her mom started crying.
It was terrible.
She never wanted things to work out this way.
But it was what it was, and she couldn't take anything back.
She had anorexia nervosa, and she knew, the journey of recovery was going to be long, tough, and difficult.
....

She had to spend three months in the hospital.
Apart from that, she also met a lot of people like herself, teenagers, with problems. For example, Ryan, who had lost both his parents, and had stopped eating, for nearly a month. Jennifer, a beautiful, slender dancer, who needed a straitjacket after having sudden anxiety and panic attacks and trying to kill herself.
Alessandra was a model, a beautiful, tall and statuesque girl. But like me, the desire to be perfect and the constant reminder that she wasn't, chased her everywhere she went, and she had starved herself to the point where she had lost all her curves, and was too weak to stand properly. She spoke a lot to Alessandra, or Sandra, as she asked her to call her. They even cried together.
With Sandra, and the rest of the people in there, something dawned on Mia.
Nobody were perfect. No one.
Till then, she thought she was the only one who was going through what she was going through, the only one with the constant inner turmoil, the only one broken, desperate, and miserable.
But then she met those people, and she realised.
Perfect people aren't real. And real people aren't perfect.
As she had thought, the road to revovery was a long one. Treatments, medications, and therapy filled her daily life. She was immensely grateful to the doctors, nurses and therapists. She made new, and probably her first real friends, Alessandra and Ryan. It was hard at first, but slowly, she learnt to smile again. Her parents visited her everyday, and her dad told her, "Mia, we love you. You are always going to be loved by us, unconditionally. It doesn't matter what you look like."
And Mom constantly said, "I don't get why you thought you were ugly. Have you seen those beautiful, big brown eyes and those long pretty eyelashes? Havs you seen those high cheekbones and that smile? Why would you think you're undesirable, honey? You're not."
For the first time, she actually listened to what people around me were saying. Till then, she was so consumed in her own sadness and inner battles that she never paid much attention to what others said, convinced that they were stupid and didn't know what they were talking about.
Finally, after three long months, she was released. She overcame her problems, and could finally smile again.
She had come a long way, and she was better.
She had found best friends in Sandra and Ryan, both of whom actually lived pretty close to her. Ryan even went to her school. These people had seen the worst side of her, and she had seen the worst side of them. That brought them closer than anything else. Before leaving, Sandra hugged Mia, and Ryan gave her a kiss on the cheek. They promised to stay in touch, and Mia was happier than ever.
She returned home with her parents, and home never felt greater.
She had restrictions imposed on her eating habits, but that was okay. She needed them. No one forced anything on her. She was okay.
For the first time, she felt happy to be alive, okay to be herself.
Those scars, stretch marks and everything else were just reminders, and lessons and she was glad they were there. Everytime she would be stuck somewhere, she would look at them, and think 'I've been through there. There's no way in hell I can't get through this.'
She was happy, and she felt comfortable in her own body. She realised what it was worth, and never abused it again.
She had friends, and no one was ever going to call her undesirable ever again.
And even if they did, she didn't really care.
And as one of the nurses put it when she was leaving, Mia was perfectly okay. And somehow, that was all that mattered.

Author's Note

Please let me know if you liked it and where I can improve. :)

Reviews

[EvaThornburn]

I think you've done a nice job writing about eating disorders. It's not talked about much these day. Are you the character Mia? I hope if you are that, you continue to grow and learn from it. I know reading about it will help others who can relate to it. Thanks, for sharing. Eva

[Aatreyee Ghoshal]

Thank you!
And no, I haven't been exactly in Mia's place, but I have been close, close enough to know what it's like.
And yes, I hope so too, thanks so much. :)

[EvaThornburn]

Your Welcome.