Whenever I want to eat junk food (which is most of the time) and that anorexic voice begins screaming at me not to, I have a little mantra I say I my mind in response…

“No. I have served my time. I’m done with you.”

Because an eating disorder is a mental prison sentence, with no fixed end date. Your trapped between four walls; obsession, fear, self-hatred and misery. You may get let of of the cell for an hour, but you always end up back there. Alone. Others are near-by, keeping an eye on you, but you are serving that sentence alone. And you never know if you’ll make it to freedom again.

I fought my way out, and I’m determined to ensure I never go back to that cell again.

L x