This post is one of the most difficult ones I am going to have to write, particularly because I never anticipated that this would happen. I thought that I would be strong enough at this stage in my recovery to push these feelings away if they ever came to my mind. I thought I would be smart enough to choose myself, my body, and my health first. But I know now, as these thoughts are running a marathon in my mind, that I am not okay. I need to address this now in the open, because there is a part of me that knows that if this goes too far, I am going to be in serious trouble.

I can feel my eating disorder thoughts and anorexic habits begin to manifest themselves in me again. And I fear that once my critical thoughts and distorted ways become stronger, I will relapse.

I can't remember when it started, but I have been feeling this way for a while. It started small: I remember one night, like many others, I wanted a cup of tea before bed. It always helped me sleep, and it kept me warm. I walked downstairs and into the kitchen to put the kettle on, without thinking twice about this little routine of mine. But then, I stopped. I don't know what made me stop, but it froze my feet to the ground so that I couldn't move another inch. It was so powerful that nothing could compel me to take another step. I felt my tummy, and the way the skin around it was soft, and I steered my body out of the kitchen and up to bed. I forced myself to go to sleep so that I wouldn't have to think about what I had just done, and what it meant. I had denied myself a cup of tea, something comforting, warm, and delicious. I enjoyed making tea, drinking it, and the feeling it gave me while it warmed my hands in my mug. So why had I just forced myself not to drink it, and physically removed myself from the space I was in where I wanted to make it? Because I was punishing myself. I was punishing myself for the way my body felt. I hated the feeling of my skin against my hands. It felt grotesque. It felt like holding a balloon filled with oil. It shook, and it wobbled (I hate that word), and it jiggled (word number two on the list of words I hate) around in my hands, and suddenly I could see her: Ana. She looked at me with disgust. I saw so much contempt in her eyes that the tears in my own threatened quickly. Her eyes travelled my body, painfully slowly, like she was reading the skin around my cheeks, under my chin, and on my chest that had developed since I last saw her. She stopped at my tummy, and grimaced in a way that I can only describe as loud. I could hear her mouth pulling and the air in her lungs turn sour as she took in what I had become. This out of control, squishy (word number three), blob of a girl with no idea about what she was putting into her body.

"Tea, Sarah? Seriously? Do you really think you deserve that?"

At this point, my eyes were closed, but I didn't have to open them to know that it was her speaking to me. I could identify her voice in a war zone. It is cruel, unforgiving, and so spiteful it cuts you like glass.

"Please go away," I thought to myself. "Please. I was doing so well. Please don't do this to me. It's just tea! It's healthy, and filled with antioxidants. I like it. It comforts me. It will help me sleep so that I can have energy for tomorrow."

"Do you really think I care about any of that? You're more stupid than I thought. Comfort? Oh please. Comfort is an indulgence for people who are weak. I don't care that tea is healthy. I don't care that you like it. I don't care about your sleep, your energy, or what you choose to tell yourself about how you are getting better. What I see is that repugnant sack below your ribs. Anything that touches your lips sits there, and it stays there, and it rots, and it stews, and it bubbles and boils, until it becomes a hard, lumpy mass that will stay inside you forever. Any liquid, any food, anything that you put inside your body, even water, never leaves. That is why you look like this now. Every single thing you've ever eaten has not left you. It is still there. It is sitting inside you, becoming a ball of festering lumps that will take over your body. So I will ask you again, do you really think you deserve that tea? Considering all of the toxic, perilous waste you've already put in your body?"

She wasn't making sense. I knew she wasn't. But she scared me. She scared me to the point that I couldn't speak. But she already knew this. She knew she had me. She was always one step ahead. And now she had me, and I was listening to her. That's the thing about Ana: She lures you in with her bold statements and ideas, and suddenly you are powerless to her. It's like a sleeping spell: You become so tired of trying to fight her, and too weak to listen to anyone else, that you have no choice but to listen to her. And she takes care of you. You don't have to think when you're under her arm. She makes all the decisions for you. As the spell grows stronger and stronger, you grow weaker and weaker. And she gets more powerful and more daring. She starts to make more dangerous demands, and sets harsher rules and restrictions, and in return, she grants you protection, validation, advice, and her own special wisdom. She takes such a powerful hold over you, your mind, your actions, and your thoughts, that you you start to embody her. The person you were when you encountered her for the first time starts to slip away. That person is too weak to fight back, so they slowly start to die. She uses your body as a vessel to live in this world among us. She is a monster. She haunts your parents and your friends so that they constantly worry about you, she fills your mind with nightmares, sickness, and such distorted thoughts, that your brain moulds to her agenda. Your stomach is constantly aching, your mouth is perpetually dry and stale, and your vision is always clouded by a smokescreen that never quite mists away. She convinces you that this is how you've always been feeling, and that if you let her keep you, she will take that pain away. She will lead you out of your misery and unhappiness, however weak you are, and make you happy again. All you have to do is listen to her.

And I listened to her.

"Turn around. Go back to bed. Sit with that horrible feeling in your stomach, and that ache at the back of your throat, and stay there until tomorrow morning. You will see that one cup of tea will not make a difference. You will wake up feeling less guilty. You might feel light-headed, dehydrated, tired, or ill during the day, but that just proves that your body can be pushed to the limits, and still survive. Your body can survive without the pathetic pleasures of chocolate, tea, lunch, breakfast, and still carry you through the day. It's like being on survival mode. Almost like a warrior. Now, do you want to be a warrior, or do you want to be a sniveling little child who chooses a useless cup of tea over seeing how far your body can take you? Will you listen to me as I help you grow stronger, or will you succumb to uncontrollable urges that make you weak?"

She put her hand on my shoulder, turned me around slowly, and pushed my back so I started walking up the stairs, back to my room.

I had listened to her.

Since that day, it has grown stronger. I have been refusing more, restricting more, planning meals, and not letting myself enjoy that cup of tea in the evenings. When I am deciding what food to eat, I never go for my first choice. I always go with a second, smaller, less flavoured option. Sometimes, when I reach for a piece of food I'm not supposed to eat, my hand freezes in midair, like it's being blocked by an invisible shield. And I have no control over that. I find it more difficult to prepare and eat food in front of people. I can't stand talking about food with people. When I am hungry, I google pictures of food I am not allowed to eat, and just look at them until I stop feeling hungry. Ana always congratulates me, further proving her point that my body can survive without the pleasure of food. One of the more worse things is that I can't think properly, because all that goes through my mind every second of every day is what I've eaten. During lectures, during conversations, while listening to music, I list over and over again every piece of food I've eaten, and what that means I can eat at my next meal (But only enough food at the next meal to keep me going. No more than that). It drives me insane to the point that I can't sleep at night, because it plays like a stuck tape repeatedly. My brain never switches off. It says "food, food, food, food" with every beat of my heart.

I have weighed myself compulsively at least four times a day for the last couple of months. I have lost weight, gained it back, lost it again, and then gained it back again. I have seen my ribs, the poking bones in my shoulders, my protruding collar bones, and my spindly arms become ever more prominent. But I have also seen my face become rounder, my thighs become thicker, my tummy become softer, and my hips become bigger. After every single meal, I can feel the liquids and nutrients in the food slinking through my veins, and I can feel my stomach digesting them. I can feel the food becoming a solid mass, and I can feel the lumps and warts in it. I can feel my body changing, and I can feel the weight I am gaining after every mouthful. I sit down at the dinner table, and I stand up looking and feeling like a completely different person. All the food I have eaten sits on my body. One glass of water makes my tummy plump to the size of a grapefruit, and makes me cry with anguish as I wish, wish, wish it to go away. I wish for it all to stop. I wish for the food to stop. I wish for it to stop playing games with me. I wish for it to leave me alone.

I know that if I don't start taking these eating disorder habits seriously right now, I am going to get into even more trouble. I am so terrified of what Ana is doing to me, and how easily I have let her in again. But this time, it's different. This time, I don't want her here. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to restrict, and cry, and hurt, and ache, and push, and lie, and lock myself out of my own head. I don't want her to tell me what to do. I am making a life for myself. I am at university, working on my courage, investing in myself, growing my self-love, spending more time with my friends, and meeting new people. Ana doesn't have a space in my life anymore. She doesn't fit in with the life I've made.

The only way she will stay is if I leave the door open for her. If I keep inviting her in, then she will not leave. And I cannot allow that. I will not allow my life to be swallowed whole by her again. I refuse to. I have my family, my health, my education, my friends, and my future at stake. And Ana doesn't have a place in any of that.