Since fully recovering from anorexia, all I can think is what if? What if I hadn’t got better? What if I’ve done permanent damage? What if I die because of it? I think myself lucky to even be able to think these things.
The words ‘you will die soon if you don’t eat’ will always be with me. They weren’t said as a threat, they were said in pure honesty.
I think about death a lot, I think about how it would affect those around me if I died, I wonder if they even know how I truly feel about them and what I think of them, and I wonder.. what would I do if I only had a year to live? How would I communicate my love for these people and how would I choose to live it.
I know, this sounds negative, but it’s not. I should hopefully have years and years ahead of me, so why not act now?
If I did only have one year to live, there are a lot of things I would do. Firstly, I would travel. I know how cliche that sounds, and how it would probably be first on everyone’s list, but I would. I have a passion for seeing new things and meeting new and interesting people. And for some reason, when I am in another country, I come out of myself. I’m more confident, happier and much less stressed. Where I would go is another question, I don’t know. I’ve never properly looked into it, but I would take my loved ones.
Secondly, I would write. My knowledge may be limited, but I would write what I have learned and hope to pass on my lessons learnt.
I would photograph every moment that meant something to me. Even the small, insignificant events that happen in daily life. I would make sure all these moments were captured.
I would be happy. I wouldn’t let pointless things get me down, or anyone around me. I wouldn’t fight with the people I loved over who does what or what goes where.
I would write to the people I cherish the most, attaching something to remember me by. Something happy.
I would try my damned hardest to make sure those people had the best chance in life once I was gone. That they learned to live life to the full without dwelling on what could or might have been.
I would not waste a moment, nevermind a day. So why do it now? Why spend time thinking about the past? Why spend all my days in bed? If I am cursed with this illness for the rest of my life, why sit back and watch my life fly by?
I’m intelligent enough to realise I can’t just jump out of bed tomorrow, and start living. But I can keep trying my best to get to the point where that is made possible. And it will be made possible.
I beat anorexia, and I will beat this too.