Not a Disease

by amber24-03

Everyone thinks that they understand my problem. But they don't. They analyze me constantly, each positive that my so called 'eating disorder' isn't really about the food at all but rather some residual need for the control lacking in my life. But they're wrong.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I wrote this probably about 8 years ago now on a whim. I'm archiving it on my Tumblr page, but I also thought I'd finally share it here. It's just a short drabble about Emma Nelson, centered around her struggles with food during .. I forgot what season that was? Anyway, hope you all enjoy! :)

---

Not A Disease

Everyone thinks that they understand my problem.

But they don't.

They analyze me constantly, each positive that my so called 'eating disorder' isn't really about the food at all but rather some residual need for the control lacking in my life.

But they're wrong.

I don't eat because I'm fat! I would shout it from the rooftop if I thought they'd all suddenly believe me.

But they wouldn't.

And there in lies the problem.

Doctors, nurses, shrinks. They all tell me that my not eating isn't for the sole purposes of losing weight. I want to tell them they're crazy, but instead I scoff at the incorrect analysis.

"Studies show …" Each would say.

And I want to scream at them that I'm not a study case.

I'm Emma Nelson, an environmentalist, a person. Not statistics.

If I could, I would tell them each little detail about my 'disorder', and that I'm just a girl, living in a world where perfection is key.

I would tell them how it started.

I would recall the feeling of always being hungry, but focusing only on the calories, trans fats, and sugars that would without a doubt end up adding those extra unwanted pounds to my thighs.

I would recall the hunger pangs that would come in quick, like cramps, and then go just as quickly even if I never satisfied my hunger, and how strong I felt afterward in having not given in to that temptation.

I would finally admit that I don't know what drives my thought process to only revolve around food, but that the fear of gaining weight is real and unforgiving. It's not hiding some deeper anxiety. It is my anxiety.

But they wouldn't listen.

And so I say nothing as I sit in yet another doctor's office with Snake and my mom by my side as the doctor of the week rattles off the possible causes that could have brought on my need for control and then the possible steps that we need to take, as a family, to fix my worries and me.

I want to tell them that I'm not broken, just human.

But I don't.