Calling her "Ana"

"Ana" and "Mia" were names I adopted for my ED when I was in hospital. The other girls talked about how "Ana" was laughing at them and taunting them, and I related.
Having an eating disorder is like having a little devil on your shoulder.

















"Ana" talks to me. She tells me I have no right to recover, that I never will, that she'll always be waiting, ready to starve me again when the opportunity arises. She laughs at me, taunts me, tells me I'm a fat, ugly, worthless bitch who'll never amount to anything. She tells me I have to be perfect, and assures me that as much as I try I'll never reach her impossible standards. But still, I try. When Ana fails and I eat, Mia slinks up, telling me to purge, to binge, to exercise, take laxatives. Do anything to get rid of the food.

But the crazy thing? Ana doesn't really exist. Neither does Mia. They're disorders, all in my head. They're my own creation, yet I have this abusive, love-hate relationship with them. With figments of my own mind.

But I'm just so stuck. It's awful, feeling trapped by a person that isn't even real. It's all me, it always has been. This disorder isn't some  evil entity on my shoulder. It's ME.

They tell me I have to separate myself from the disorder, but a part of me thinks that doing that is no better than trying to exorcise me. You can't take away a part of my own mind.

I'm so confused.

I wish I could make sense of this illness. I wish I could just let go of Ana and Mia.