Peer and teacher response for TIB and FINAL




Amy VanDeventer
English 1102


From all the therapist and doctors I have seen, they all seem to start with the same question, “Where did this begin?”  and that’s the same question I am unable to answer today. It’s not a cold; I didn’t catch this from anyone. I couldn’t tell you where it began, but I can tell you how unfathomably enthralled by this disease I became[KA2] .
            I remember being on my first diet in elementary[KA3]  school. I didn’t start with a low self-esteem, but somehow I got there. I slowly began to forget what it was to feel all right, to feel steady, to feel secure. My hands began to shake, my nails were blue, I was losing hair on my head and growing hair on my arms. [KA4] It really is incredible the way our bodies try to save us from slowly killing ourselves. The hair I grew was called Lanugo; it’s our body’s way of protecting ourselves[KA5]  from low temperatures. I was cold all of time. I began to measure things in their absence instead of their presence.[KA6] 
            I can’t describe how uncomfortable I was in my own skin. I would spend hours in my room crying just wishing I could peel my flaws away. I wanted to escape my body. It became much more than weight, a number, or food. I hated myself. After each meal that I didn’t eat, I would walk to my room, lock the door, and graze my pale hand over my stomach counting each of my ribs. I knew I wasn’t fat, I knew I was thin, but it was never enough. In the morning I ate dry cereal and at night I ate five almonds; I didn’t allow lunch. I grew perpetually tired. The idea of going to ballet class after school was daunting. Slipping on my leotard in front of a wall of mirrors became harder. Yes, this may seem sick and disturbing but I felt invincible, it was an incredible high[KA7] . My teachers at school and the ballet studio started to call my house. [KA8] 
One day my mom pulled me out of school to go to the doctor. I thought they were going to laugh at her. I was wrong. I remember lying down on the sterile plastic sheet, face white as snow. She pulled my shirt up; I was too tired to show my discontent. “When did this begin?[KA9] 
            I was hospitalized for months, got out, relapsed, and went back to the hospital. I had to break this death cycle and finally I replaced dying with living. I [KA10] don’t know where my eating disorder began and realized there is no definite end. I’m learning that this is always something I’ll deal with, but not always something I will have to fight. I learned that recovery isn’t easy, but it is possible. I finally saw my light at the end of the tunnel[KA11] [KA12] .

 [KA1]You asked about the title, but I think that it works. I like that it is simple and not too cutesy.
 [KA2]I like that you are building suspense in the introduction by not mentioning what the disease is yet. It hooks the reader to keep going and find out what you are talking about. Good job!
 [KA3]What was this first diet like for a child? As in, what did the diet consist of? Could you give specific details for your reader?
 [KA4]Great description here.
 [KA5]You may want to phrase this as “it was my body’s way of protecting me…” to keep the focus on you.
 [KA6]Eloquently put.
 [KA7]I am a little confused by this sentence. Feeling invincible and high seem to go against you being uncomfortable in your own skin and hating yourself. Can you try to make it clearer for your reader?
 [KA8]You asked me if this seems out of place, and yes it does. You could use it to start your next paragraph because it seems to be the cause of your mom pulling you out of school.
 [KA9]Who said this? You? Your mom? The doctor? This particular event is a little hard to follow. Can you make it clearer?
 [KA10]You need to transition between these two ideas. It seems a little choppy in your conclusion.
 [KA11]You want to try to avoid clichés. Is there another way that you could conclude the essay? Could you go back to an earlier idea or image? Maybe play with the mirror metaphor and how you see yourself now?
Amy,
I enjoyed reading your essay and I am impressed at your honesty and your ability to play with your language. I think that you have a very strong essay that will be very interesting to a wide audience. I think that it could be even stronger if you worked on creating transitions for your reader and making sure that all points are clear. I have tried to mark any sections that lose focus or lack clarity. However, please keep in mind that your writing is quite beautiful in spite of a very difficult subject, which can be very hard to do. Overall, you have a great essay and I look forward to seeing what you do in the next draft.






Peer Reviews:















Recovery is Possible

From all the therapist and doctors I have seen, they all seem to start with the same question, “Where did this begin?”  and that’s the same question I am unable to answer today. It’s not a cold; I didn’t catch this from anyone. I couldn’t tell you where it began, but I can tell you how unfathomably enthralled by this disease I became.
            I remember being on my first diet in elementary school. I ate half of whatever lunch my mom packed me. I rewarded myself with one sweet treat at the end of the week, if and only if I had been a “ good dieter”. I didn’t start with a low self-esteem, but somehow I got there. It was early middle school when I stopped dieting and started restricting. Going to school was hard, looking in the mirror was hard, but living was the hardest. I slowly began to forget what it was to feel all right, to feel steady, to feel secure. My hands began to shake, my nails were blue, I was losing hair on my head and growing hair on my arms. It was my body’s way of protecting me. I was cold all of time. I began to measure things in their absence instead of their presence.
            I can’t describe how uncomfortable I was in my own skin. I would spend hours in my room crying just wishing I could peel my flaws away. I wanted to escape my body. It became much more than weight, a number, or food. I hated myself. After each meal that I didn’t eat, I would walk to my room, lock the door, and graze my pale hand over my stomach counting each of my ribs. I knew I wasn’t fat, I knew I was thin, but it was never enough. In the morning I ate dry cereal and at night I ate five almonds; I didn’t allow lunch. I grew perpetually tired. The idea of going to ballet class after school was daunting. Slipping on my leotard in front of a wall of mirrors became harder. When my life was out of control, I had control of what I put in my body. This alone led me to believe I was powerful. I had a secret. I was safe. But it was all a lie.
One day my mom pulled me out of school to go to the doctor. I thought they were going to laugh at her. I was wrong. I remember lying down on the sterile plastic sheet, face white as snow. The Doctor pulled my shirt up; I was too tired to show my discontent. She then said those infamous words, “ when did this begin?” I was unaware that I was diagnosed with an Anorexia Nervosa until I was sent to inpatient treatment. When the double doors locked behind me, I realized it wouldn’t be easy to get out. Everyone around me wanted to be the thinnest and the sickest. I was three hours away from home and the youngest one there. My secret, my power, my security from my eating disorder was gone and all that was left was a malnourished body that lived each day by a number on a scale.
            I was hospitalized for months, got out, relapsed, and went back to the hospital. Everyone at school, in town, in my family knew me as anorexic Amy. I didn’t want this to be my identity. I spent my days starving and shivering, while I could have spent them being a child. I missed out on all those sleepovers where eating until your belly ached was just a part of it.  I had to break this death cycle and finally I replaced dying with living. I don’t know where my eating disorder began and realized there is no definite end. I’m learning that this is always something I’ll deal with, but not always something I will have to fight. I will forever be engaged in a silent battle with the mirror. I must remember that I am more than the number on the scale, more than the gap between two thighs, and more than anorexia will ever have to offer me. I will remember that recovery isn’t easy, but it is possible.


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