My therapist gave me an assignment that I have been dreading doing, but I am going to post it here, in hopes to get some feedback, or maybe help someone else going through similar things. My assignment is to write my mom a letter that I don’t send to her about what she taught me about my body. I have eating, where most of the time, I barely eat, but occasionally I give into binging and purging. So I am somewhere between Anorexic and Bulimic. I don’t like to accuse anyone of anything, but I need to be honest. My mother is anorexic and has been my whole life. Unfortunately she taught me through her words and actions messages about my own body and appearance. They have been ingrained in my mind since childhood.

Dear Mom…

I have some things to say to you, but I am glad you aren’t going to be getting this. This is only so that I can be totally honest with my feelings. I know you have a struggle with anorexia my whole life. I got accustomed to you fixing dinner for the family, but not for yourself. I started to feel guilty for eating and thought it must be bad. I wasn’t as strong as you to resist eating. Hunger always was my weakness. In fact, at first, I loved food. But something changed when I was about 12 years old. I kept watching you and feeling more and more guilty for eating, but when I couldn’t refuse to eat, I thought about the next solution. To throw up what I ate. That became cycle for me that would stay with me for the rest of my life, but I realized I was not losing weight that way. In fact, I was gaining weight. It wasn’t until Dad said before he died, “I give up. You can get as fat as you want.” ‘It wasn’t until he died that felt determined to stop eating together and the pounds were coming off fast, making you so proud of me. You didn’t care how I was doing it, all you cared about that I was losing weight. I have never seen you as proud of me until the pounds started dropping like flies. That became my goal in life, to make you proud. I was always a fuck up most of my life, and I am determined to keep you proud no matter what it costs me. Did you know that I ordered Ipecac to induce vomiting if I eat too much. Ipecac is very dangerous and possibly deadly, but I am willing to risk my life to keep you proud of me. But I feel very out of control. I am going to the gym practically every day for about two hours and practically not eating anything at all. Why am I doing this Because appearances have always been a priority in our family. I learned that from you. I’m not happy having to starve myself to earn your pride. I want to live and eat like normal people, but I don’t dare do that. I don’t know why your opinion means so much to me. I guess because I have always been a fuck-up until now and I don’t want to lose your acceptance. But I wonder if you even truly loved me until I started making you proud. Is your love conditional? It seems like it is. That hurts more than you can know. I don’t even know why I try so hard. I guess that’s all that I had to get out. I do love you; I just wish that you loved me unconditionally like a mother should.