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.
No comments:
Post a Comment