I’ve always been a happy person. I was blessed with a beautiful life. My parents are still married. I have my own bedroom, and bathroom. My mom paid for me to go to a big university in the south. Mostly all my grandparents are alive. I never have to worry about my next meal. I have great friends, and a best friend who would support me through anything. You get it- blessed.
Recently though, things haven’t been so great. Let me back track.
I was one of the last generations to truly GROW UP without social media. Sure I had a flip phone so my parents could get me from lacrosse practice, but no internet connection. However, Instagram had just come out, and my mom had just gotten a first generation Ipad. I was 14. I begged my mom to let me get one. I mean all my friends had one. They just shared cute photos of themselves hanging out, their dogs, them on vacation, at the mall, swimming at the local pool. What was the harm in it?
Mom agreed, and helped me set up my account. I selected a profile picture, made a bio, and then quickly started following my friends. Followers started pouring in, and I felt happy. People wanted to see my pictures, people wanted to connect.
I spent hours on the app, commenting, liking, connecting. Mom gave me some extra time before dinner because she had worked a little later and was still cooking. I headed over to the discover page. Tons of girls in bikinis at the beach were on the page. I started scrolling through. They were perfect. Slim, thigh gaps, perfect boobs, perfect make up. You name it.
The more I scrolled, the more I couldn’t feel myself stop. My face got hot. Did I look like that? Did people look at me and think my body was great? Sure, I had felt a little insecure or awkward before but I had never thought about things like this. I had never been exposed to things like this.
I walked over to my mirror and lifted my shirt. No boobs. No butt. My thighs touched. My waist was not a perfect hourglass. I felt bleh. I shut the Ipad off and laid on my bed. Mom called me for dinner.
I threw on some sweatpants over my shorts and pulled my long sleeve tee-shirt down. Suddenly I felt bleh. Did people look at me in the same view as I looked at myself? Did they feel bleh when they looked at me too?
I sit down at the table. Mom pours me a coke. “Ill just have a water.” I say.
Mom laughs, “But, you love coke. Whats gotten into you?”
I shrug. “Nothing. Just don’t need all the calories or sugar before bed.”
Mom sighs. “As if you need to be worried about that.”
She starts serving the food. It’s meatloaf. And potatoes. And green beans.
She plops the meatloaf onto my plate and I look at it, almost disgusted.
“You know, maybe I’m just not feeling well. Maybe it’s a stomach ache or something. I’m not hungry tonight.” I tell her.
“Darn,” Mom says back. “Meatloaf is your favorite. Well, go to bed then. No skipping school tomorrow.”
I excuse myself from the table and change into my pjs. I lie in bed. I couldn’t get those images out of my head of the girls. I wanted to look like them. I wanted to be like them. I couldn’t do that if I was eating meatloaf and potatoes and drinking a coke every night.
I laid on my pillow, drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow I will change. Tomorrow I will be better.
That was the first night the sand person visited me. The first need I knew that they did, anyway.
I woke up around 3 am, in a cold sweat. My arms and legs were chained by invisible weights. I tried to lift them, but they were glued to the bed. I had this overwhelming fear of impending doom. A shadow loomed in the corner. I tried to scream. I couldn’t open my mouth. I couldn’t move. I shut my eyes as tight as I could. Next thing I knew, it was morning.
I tried to recap what happened last night, was it sleep paralysis? A night mare? I felt weird. Like a large weight sat on my shoulders. I dragged myself out of bed and threw on a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt.
I walked out in the kitchen. “Eggs are on the table. Grab an orange juice from the fridge. Can’t be late again.” Mom shouts from the other room, hurrying around.
“Not hungry.” I shout back. “Must be that same stomach ache.”
Mom peaks her head around the corner and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t even try-“
I cut her off. “I’m not. Im going.”
She nods. “Good. Your brother is in the car waiting. Let’s go.”
All day I felt weird. Hunger loomed in me. I kept thinking about the girls in the bikinis. “Cant eat.” I thought. “Cant risk not being beautiful.”
Everyday started to go on like this.
I woke up. I went to school. I skipped breakfast. I had a bag of chips at lunch. I nibbled on dinner.
The pounds fell off. The weight on my shoulders and legs and arms didn’t.
Every night, the same thing would happen. I would wake up around 2 or 3 am. My arms and legs would be glued to the sheets. My body covered in a sheet of sweat. The shadow in the corner of my room was there. I could see it. Every night, it moved closer. I started to become scared of sleep. Every night, the shadow would wake me. The doom would hang over my head. When I could move, I would run to the bathroom and vomit. Sometimes once, sometimes three times. I started to become scared of sleep.
The shadow started looming during the day time, too. I was at my friend Mae’s house.
“What is that? What is under your eyes?” She asked me, concerned.
“My eyes-what are you?”
She held a mirror to my face. Black circles loomed under my eyes.
“The hell..” I sputtered back.
“You uh, you might wanna get that checked out. I’m worried about you, Hill. You’re like half the size you used to be. I mean what do you weigh now, like 90 pounds?”
I shook my head. “I’ve just been eating healthier and working out. You know, training for lacrosse. Gets intense.” I forced a laugh.
Mae didn’t smile. “Yeah alright. Just be careful.”
I went home. Mom made chicken Alfredo. One of my favorites. I had three bites.
The words echoed in my head…. A minute on the lips, forever on the hips.
That night, at 3 am without fail- the same thing happened.
Only this time when I woke up, the shadow was looming over top of me.
“You are playing a dangerous game.” It whispered. Its voice was like sandpaper. It was thin and hollow looking.
I tried to scream. I tried to thrash my body around.
“STOP THE GAME! STOP THE GAME! STOP THE GAME.” It screamed. “PLEASE!”
Finally, it stopped. Silenced covered my room like a blanket.
I shook my arms and they slowly began to move. I picked up my legs and ran to the bathroom. I was so nauseous. It was going to happen. I was going to puke.
I felt my stomach heave. I was so tired of throwing up. There was hardly anything to throw up.
The bathroom door swung open. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mom screamed. She ripped my arm out from my mouth.
“What are you talking about?” I spit back looking down on my hand, my fingers covered in vomit.
“How long have you been doing this? How long have you been making yourself sick? Is this why you’re so skinny now?”
“I-I-I I don’t know!” I cried back.
Was this the reason I had been throwing up the whole time?I had never recalled myself doing this before. I was shocked.
“I didn’t know, I didn’t mean-“ I tried to tell mom.
“No. You’re getting help. Tomorrow.” She slammed the door.
I got help.
I went to treatment.
Things got better.
I gained weight. I got healthy. I loved who I was and I didn’t care what anybody thought about me.
It was time for me to go to college.
It was time to really grow up before actually growing up.
I loved it. I loved life. I loved myself.
Until I didn’t.
Turns out, drinking a lot of alcohol and eating like shit catches up to you quick. Ever heard of the freshmen fifteen? Try freshmen thirty.
I was in denial about it at first. I tried to lose the weight in a healthy way.
I worked out, I planned all natural and organic meals. I fasted the healthy way.
Nothing. Weight kept piling on. I had never weighed this much. I was ashamed. How could I let this happen? How could I do this to myself?
My body was damaged from the years before. It held onto weight because I had starved it for so long.
I fell back into old habits. I mean summer was coming. I couldn’t weight this much and wear a bikini. Surely, no boys would talk to me if I looked like this. Everything was great again. Weight started falling off, I felt more like myself. Sure, I was hungry and tired and achey most of the time, but it would be worth it- right?
It started again. The shadow. The weights. The impending doom.
A month into restricting and binging and purging, a break through happened.
I woke up. It was late. 3 am. My arms and legs pinned to my sides. The shadow in the corner.
“Breathe.” I thought. “It’ll leave soon. It’ll all be over soon.”
“Yes it will.” That familiar, raspy voice groaned.
I closed my eyes, squinting them tight.
When I opened them, the shadow loomed over. Except this time, I could see it clearly.
A thin, pale armed and legged creature hovered over top of me. Long, blonde and think hair laid at its sides. A potato sack on top of heads. I couldn’t see its face, but I could smell its breath.
“What did I tell you?” It rasped toward me.
“I- I- What?” I muttered.
“Stop the game.” It spat.
And then it disappeared.
Time went on. I skipped more meals. I dropped more weight.
The shadow continued to visit me. It hadn’t talked to me since that night.
I was so hungry. So tired.
I walked into Political Science, my legs shaking.
Then I fainted.
In my unconscious state, I dreamed of the sand person. The same figure that loomed over me that night.
This time, it held an old fashioned stop watch.
“Tik…. Tok…. Tik…. Tok….” It spit.
“What do you want from me?” I yelled. “Leave me alone?”
It moved its head in my direction. It moved toward me.
It stuck its long, bony arm in my direction and wrapped its thin, long, harsh fingers around my neck.
“I warned you. I told you to stop. I TOLD YOU!” It yelled in anger.
“Told me what?” I choked, tears pouring down my face.
It said nothing, but tightened its grip.
I looked behind the sand person, body paralyzed, air leaving my body.
A grave stone sat lonely upon a small hill. I tried to make out the words carved into it.
Hillary Carlyn Lane it read.
“But… but that’s… that’s me…” I muttered.
The sand person said nothing.
The strength returned to my arms.
I reached up and ripped the worn sack off of its head.
A familiar face looked down upon me.
“You’re me..?” I asked in shock.
“I told you to quit this game.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“You’ve been me this whole time?” I choked.
The sand person nodded. “I tried to warn you. I did. Ive been watching this for years. Starving. Binging. Purging. Depriving. Disgusting” It spat.
An electric shock jolted my body.
“Clear!” I heard someone yell.
The sand person ripped its head side ways.
“You got lucky. This time.” It said and everything faded to black.
I woke up shortly after in a hospital bed.
“You sure got lucky kid, thought your heart had just about gave out. You know your BMI is severely underweight? I checked your history, seems like you fell back into some old habits, huh?” A nurse told me, reading paper work.
Mom ran into the room. “Oh, Hilary, why didn’t you tell me this was happening again?”
I shook my head. “I don’t Mom.” I sobbed.
And things got better.
I went back to treatment.
I regained my health.
I met a boy, and we fell in love.
I had never been so happy.
I slept peacefully at night.
The sand person didn’t bother me.
One day I woke up and saw a message on my phone.
“Hey girl… I know you don’t know me. But I was just wondering if you were dating Shane still?”
It read.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Uh yeah. Why?” I typed.
“Im so sorry. I didn’t know…”
And my heart shattered into a million pieces.
I felt every morsel of food leave my body as I ran to the toilet.
How could he do this to me? How could he sleep with someone else?
I called Mae, and she has been staying with me.
I haven’t been able to eat though. My stomach is still so sick.
It’s been 4 days since Ive eaten. The familiar feeling of hunger felt almost… nice.
I woke up this morning at 3 am, arms glued to my side.
The shadow loomed in the corner.
“Tik… tok…” It snarled.
“Tik…tok…”