SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
Updated: Mar 16, 2023
I am currently writing to you 16 days into Australian summer, yet the wind is so strong that the rain falls at diagonals, the sky is one united grey cloud and the temperature has plummetted. The disconnect between the expectation of summer and the reality of winter weather is alike to the convoluted friendships I've fostered throughout the life I've lived with anorexia. Seeing a reflection of the devil in your mind as you look into the eyes of a beloved friend comes with its benefits and detriments. I found myself loving the exceptional personalities of these friends, yet envying, competing with and despising their devil. It was difficult at times to separate the friend from the devil and I couldn't always. And so was born my experience... In seeking sympathy for the(ir) devil.
THE DEVIL
There in front of me was everything my eating disorder had ever wanted me to be... perfect. Perfectly in control. Perfectly unwell. Perfectly appearing. Perfectly traumatized. Perfectly struggling. Perfectly borderline. Perfectly delirious. Perfectly attached to dying. All my life, I'd wanted to be perfect... And with every rule, promise and secret the eating disorder instilled, I felt closer to attaining perfection than ever. Meeting these friends was like finding pandora's box. I learned, copied and studied my perfect friends who had rules I'd never thought to make and showed me secrets I didn't know I could keep. Of course, perfection is unattainable and of course, the benchmark of perfection for eating disorders is never enough but in my mind's eye, they were as perfect as could be and I now knew exactly how to be perfect just like them.
SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
Heartachingly, I have a devil too and the toxicity was a two-way street. But like a white butterfly fluttering amongst fire in the depths of hell, we gave each other an opportunity for comfort, understanding and support. Already, my shopping list was limited in quantity and variety, resulting in heavily disordered plates and bowls of food. Now, the devil further restricted my intake when foods that I considered 'safe' weren't 'safe' for my friends. But, in finding sympathy, I had friends who didn't judge those disordered plates and bowls, ask incessant questions and make unhelpful remarks. It felt comforting, relieving and easy. It didn't matter whether it was eating together or simply passing the time, sympathy allowed for an eye in the midst of a storm, a branch to cling onto amidst a flood.
THE DEVIL
Unfortunately, with eating disorders, the devils in our minds are the catalyst for the severe physical complications that follow. Often, medical intervention is required. This is when treatment plans manifest- psychiatric wards, specialised eating disorder units and community support. It wasn't until I was in these environments that I met other people who shared my devil. But meeting other devils wasn't assuring... It was a playing ground where rules were absent and winning was the only goal. Our devils would prey on one another, ready to pounce and gnaw at every minute detail until it was their own. I had to know their discharge date, I had to know their admission and discharge weights, I had to know their previous admissions and lengths of stay, I had to know their meal plan and I had to know their secrets. I had to know because I had to feel on top, to feel 'sicker' or 'sick enough' and win at our disgusting, hopeless, devastating losing game.
SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
In the hospital system, I felt powerless, abused, patronised, traumatised, glamorised, fetishised, depressed, isolated, and misunderstood. Considering that in hospitals, control is being taken away from the eating disorder through regular nutrition, loved ones often undermined me by pinning down my felt emotions to this fact. They failed to recognise that the methods that the system implicated, the lack of education from nursing staff and inconsistent treatment was often brutal and inhumane. This cycle became a harsh reality. It wasn't until I met my friends' devils that finally, I didn't feel 'crazy'. They not only validated my experiences but shared them. It was liberating and refreshing. Finally, I didn't feel so desperately alone.
THE DEVIL
The funny thing about devils, Dolls, is that they don't just look big, red, and scary but they make you look and feel that way too. The big is for the feelings- the big burden you carry, the big hole in your heart, and the big weight of sadness. The red is for the blood that drips from my lips and nose due to the depletion of nutrients and for what stains my skin after I fall or self-harm. The scary is for how scared I feel of food, events, and freedom, for how I look to others, and for how I feel when I see them looking.
SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL
Nobody who loved me could ever understand why I'd torture myself the way I do, for how it could possibly bring me a sense of comfort and allow for, finally, some relief. They did, though. Their devils understood. When two devils look at each other, they see home. There was no judgment. They understood why I did what I did and why I do what I do. And in that there was silence. Calm.
The devil isn't a friend and there is no denying that. However, even the world's worst people, the cruellest minds and blackest hearts have allies. I don't think devils deserve sympathy by any means, but nevertheless, I think they need it to sustain themselves. Or else, everything would be too dark. The sun would die, all the flowers would wilt and the world would end.
Kisses,
COS x
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