The Christmas tree is up and decorated. My house is cosy with decorations adorning the living room. The presents are baked, the candles are lit, and the cookies are ready. This year on Christmas Day I will try even harder than before to suppress my body checking urges, to control my portion sizes, and to ignore the vicious voices in my head telling me that one meal will ruin me. 

In the past my Christmases were dictated by Ana's evil voice. No matter how much weight I had lost due to the stress and anxiety she had laden on me, it was never enough. I was still not worthy of the festive spread my family laid out on Christmas Day. My entire afternoon was filled with consuming thoughts of calories, numbers, the scale, my intake, and how much I would have to restrict the next day in order not to hinder my "progress" I had made. I would hide in the bathroom body checking in the mirror, my hands groping my stomach and thighs where I was sure my weight gain after Christmas lunch would be instant and visible. While sitting around the table with my family sharing gossip and laughter, my mind was never truly present. Intrusive and negative thoughts about my body, my self worth, and how possessed I felt circled around my like a vulture. I was never at peace on Christmas. Not while my mind was haunted and Ana had control over me. What I thought was self control and body positivity ultimately turned out to be food obsession and dietary compulsions.

This festive season has unfortunately seen my relapse into anorexia. Though there have been days where the obsessions and compulsions have been too much to handle, I have been trying even harder to resist them. I've been baking, going on outings with my friends, hosting Christmas movie nights, and spending evenings away from home on supper dates. By spending time away from home, I have been attempting to strengthen my body positivity by being around wholesome and loving people rather than staying in bed and indulging in self pity and depression naps.

In truth, I never want to spend another Christmas with Ana. She made my holidays completely miserable and hollow in the past by turning me into a shadow of my former self. She made me lose my exuberance and passion for the most wonderful day of the year. I made a stronger effort, in spite of my relapse, to reclaim my Christmas spirit this year. I want my twenties to be a time of investing in myself, and that means the purging of intrusive and destructive thoughts and behaviour.

My holidays will not be hollow days. I have spent one too many Christmases questioning whether or not I am worthy of being alive and being loved. And on the day of the birth of my Saviour... To think that Ana has influenced and controlled my outlook on life on Christmas more than the God who has never stopped loving me. I never want that to happen again.

Merry Christmas, Ana. Now get out of my house.