For those of you who don’t know, I have anorexia. I am pretty vocal about it, and you can ask me anything about my experience.
A month or so ago, I had the privilege of meeting a friend of mine, who’s also a true-blue card-holding registered psychologist. Let’s call her Dr. Roxy.
We did some catching up, as we haven’t seen each other since the early 2000s. And she told me frankly that I should and could get my PWD ID. We had a pleasant time, then we took our photo together and parted ways.
Getting a PWD ID appealed to my discount-loving Chinoy persona. I also relished the fact that I could get ahead of long lines, and get premium parking space.
But more than those perks, something deeper was egging me on.
It took a while for me to decipher the hidden message, but now I’m ready to share it.
When I was processing my papers in Manila City Hall, the nice lady who was in charge treated me as if I was fragile.
I didn’t take it personally, as she treated everybody the same way. Incidentally, when this lady was about to hand me my card, some passerby bumped me, hard. And, the thin person that I was swayed and almost toppled over.
The lady in charge looked alarmed. Then, she spoke to me kindly, with a touch of condescension. I didn’t mind.
And it turns out I don’t mind. Not at all.
There are some people who romanticize their mental illnesses. But to judge them would be like judging myself. Sort of.
Lots of people remark about my thinness. Many say they wish they had anorexia too, so that they can resist eating foods and gaining weight. Many people also say that if they only had anorexia, they could revert to the younger, thinner versions of themselves, so they can wear whatever outfit they want off the racks.
Meeting with Dr. Roxy made me see myself and my condition from the perspective of a seasoned professional. My friend (and diagnoser) confirmed it. I exhibit aberrant behavior. I don’t eat like normal people. But then, I’ve known that all my life.
When I was officially given the papers to prove it and the card that says PWD (due to psychosocial disability), I rejoiced. I feel relieved. More importantly, I feel seen as who I am. My case got peer-reviewed, and my personal, subjective experiences were validated.
So now, I can courageously say, “No, I have not been imagining it all along.”
I’m legit not-right-in-the head. Specifically, not-right-in-the-Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Adrenal axis (HPA axis).
I don’t think I’ll ever eat like a normal person, and that’s OKAY.
There are other aspects of my life I can focus on.
Getting my PWD ID helped me acknowledge the truth: I am a person out of the norm. I am not like most people in a significant way, and in a debilitating way. I can’t wish my anorexia to stop, just like I can’t heed many well-meaning people’s advice to “just eat”.
Like my other PWD peers, I don’t want my disease. Sometimes, I wish I was fully functional too.
But at some point in my life, anorexia became me.
Over the years, I have come to realize I don’t know where the disease ends and I begin. It’s been so much a part of me that it’s grafted. Like a parasitic orchid, it grows with me and within me. I can’t untangle the knots, and I deep down, I don’t want to. Because if I do that, I will demolish my psyche.
In the end, I’d like to think that the act of getting my PWD is an act of owning my mental illness. If you are in the same predicament as me, then, I urge you to put yourself forward.
True, you won’t look at yourself the same way, but would you like it any other way?
I’d rather be honest and forgive myself. Or another way to put it, “Accept who you are, Melany, and move on.”
The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.
