By Terri Bulan, Staff Writer, Emerson College
Apparently I’m crazy. I didn’t know it until people started to say it behind my back in eighth grade. That pissed me off, not only because people were talking smack behind my back, but also because I wasn't insane. I’m still not. The only reason those kids in my grade thought that I was crazy is because they had never seen me eat. They saw my bones protrude from beneath my pale skin, my hair thin, and my clothes fall off my body.
When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Even now those are hard words for me to put on paper because I still hear those nasty teenagers calling me “crazy,” but I need to tell my story so that these people will understand. The first thing that one should realize about people who suffer from anorexia is that we are not crazy—we are starving. We are beyond hungry for love, acceptance, support, and happiness.
Read More Here
Apparently I’m crazy. I didn’t know it until people started to say it behind my back in eighth grade. That pissed me off, not only because people were talking smack behind my back, but also because I wasn't insane. I’m still not. The only reason those kids in my grade thought that I was crazy is because they had never seen me eat. They saw my bones protrude from beneath my pale skin, my hair thin, and my clothes fall off my body.
When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Even now those are hard words for me to put on paper because I still hear those nasty teenagers calling me “crazy,” but I need to tell my story so that these people will understand. The first thing that one should realize about people who suffer from anorexia is that we are not crazy—we are starving. We are beyond hungry for love, acceptance, support, and happiness.
Read More Here