Rebirth Amidst the Chaos E-Book

Stella Müller

• Herausgeber: Isca
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 321

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

"Rebirth Amidst the Chaos" is an unfiltered exploration of transformation, peeling back the layers of human experience to reveal the raw beauty of growth. With a voice that is both piercing and poetic, Stella Muller weaves a tapestry of insight, challenging perceptions and awakening something deeply personal within each reader. This is not just a book—it is an unraveling, a reckoning, a quiet storm that stirs the soul. It does not hand out answers but instead lights the way for those bold enough to seek them.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

For as long as she can remember, Stella Muller has been thrown into challenges that left her no choice but to see life differently. When everything shifts, you can't just stay on the surface-you have to dive into what lingers beneath, into what is unspoken, into what weighs in the shadows. Through raw and intimate writing, she explores the emotions we suppress, the truths we avoid, and the thoughts we push away. This book is a poetic journey through coming of age, life's silences, and the lessons you learn when you've lived too much too soon. Where melancholy meets beauty, where scars become stories, she invites every reader to feel differently, see differently, and perhaps, even understand differently.

Leseprobe

Stella Müller

Rebirth Amidstthe Chaos

© 2025, Stella Müller.

Reproduction et traduction, même partielles, interdites. Tous droits réservés pour tous les pays.

ISBN 9782889821082

To my mother, the unwavering soul who stood by my side through my darkest days, the one who, with relentless devotion, saved me when I couldn’t find a glimpse of hope.

Introduction

I found myself cast into the vessel of a mere human, yet gifted with a journey embellished with countless obstacles, each offering a spark of wisdom waiting to be kindled.

Initially, I saw life through the magical lenses of juvenescence; life was a bright adventure. Through the innocence of youth, I perceived life as a blessing, shielded by the belief that nothing could ever hurt me. However, within the educational system I was thrust into, a hidden challenge was unraveled, one that I would have to face during the years ahead—I found myself simultaneously cursed and blessed with dyslexia.

As I began writing the very first words of this book at the youthful age of fourteen, I grasped the heartfelt metamorphosis daunting my tender spirit within. The journey from being a radiant girl filled with abundance and love to being a teenager struggling to forge her way through the clutter of obstacles that lay ahead was truly transformative.

Little did I know that with age comes not only added responsibilities, but also unforeseen ordeals. The odyssey of life has led me down unexpected paths, as if the universe was scrutinizing my perseverance and resilience in ways I could never have imagined. I wish to impart all that I’ve learned on my journey, yet I accept that words cannot teach better than experience in itself can.

From the extending abyss of despair at the ripe age of thirteen, I’ve surfaced as my present self that embodies the evidence of the adage: to truly heal others, one must first endure one’s own wounds and then emerge profoundly healed. Although a prominent part of my past self longed for the guidance I now offer, I acknowledge that my growth was perfect the way it was, for it shaped the person I currently am.

While not every aspiration I’ve ever wanted came to fruition, many have, enabling me to distinguish between the ones that stemmed from a place of self-love and positive intention and those that came from unhealed insecurities. Within this book I combine valuable lessons garnered throughout my path thus far. Consider it a book filled with wisdom, cultivated from years of experience, all in one singular book crafted for your personal growth and healing.

Everyone has their own unique experiences, marked by their distinctive perceptions. Many mask themselves with a social façade to hide the most vulnerable parts of themselves. That which we see on the surface is barely a glimpse of what resides beneath, and this book aims to untangle the hidden layers within yourself to allow true healing to flourish. I wish for you to enjoy, learn, and grow inspired by understanding certain puzzle pieces of my story so far, so that you may blossom in your own story and find your missing puzzle pieces.

Successful individuals learn and flourish from their mistakes. The least successful person is one that is not willing to recognize when they have failed, reluctant to evolve past the inevitable obstacles along the way. Learning how to recover from life’s setbacks is crucial—ponder on the following question: What if your biggest failures and challenges were, in actuality, life’s greatest gifts? I hope this book provides new insights and perspectives on life to free you from the self-imposed limitations that humans tend to grow blind to.

In order to absorb the most out of this book, I recommend annotating and, most importantly, applying the lessons shared within this book, which will make it a more efficient learning experience, particularly when it comes to the many life lessons that are yet to be uncovered.

Have you ever begun a book or movie only to find it confusing and unenjoyable at first, yet once you revisited it later, it turned out to be truly great? I hope this book will offer a similar experience if it didn’t originally resonate with you. I understand that I cannot force anything upon anyone and that is not my intention. My intention is for you to thrive through your life with the knowledge and wisdom this book contains.

I must say that nothing in this book is intended to resemble an insult in any way, I truly yearn to inspire others through my journey. I wish for you to learn and expand your knowledge, forming a new evolved perception. Numerous topics in this book may be considered controversial, I am aware that many individuals won’t necessarily fully agree with what I have written. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because my intention is not to prove that what I have written is right, rather my aim is to merely offer you new insights in order to evolve and expand your perspective. Additionally, this book contains various topics that may be triggering, including addiction, disordered eating, and toxic relationships. Therefore, if you feel the need to distance yourself from these topics for a while, I completely understand. However, I believe this book can help you heal passed the triggers and enable you to face them rather than neglect them. The choice is yours, I wish for you a pleasant and insightful experience.

Echos of Despair

My energy was drained under the weight of my tortured heart. At this point, I wasn’t living, I was surviving. The only essence providing a glimpse of light was the slight hope for a brighter future in which this book flourishes by helping others heal, just as I once wished someone helped me.

As I lay in bed, my eyes shut, enveloped by the dark, a swarm of tormenting thoughts began engulfing me, thoughts of giving up and leaving right then and there, for all I sought in that instant was a mere breath of relief.

Drowning, suffocating within all the responsibilities and tireless efforts to always strive to be greater. Amidst such chaos, I was the only one to blame, for I had betrayed myself once again. I couldn’t bear the haunting echos of my taunting thoughts anymore, they were far too loud, as if they stung my upmost deepest wounds.

I rushed to the bathroom, locking the door, and collapsed to the ground. My back arched toward my knees as I clenched them tightly. Tears poured down my cheeks as my breath fastened uncontrollably—a moment of pure panic mixed with an overwhelming feeling of despair. Was this all the past trauma catching up to me? Or, perhaps, all the sleepless nights accumulating?

As my breath and storming thoughts suddenly ceased, I turned to the only hope I had left as I prayed to God—my only savior in that moment. I forced myself to stand up, rinsing away the tears that threatened to spill once more. With my eyes clenched shut, I reminded myself that in this vast world, I alone held the strength to save myself. There was no other choice but to keep pushing while holding onto what was most dear to me—this book, the only refuge that motivated me to wake up every day.

These are more than mere words that lie on a blank page; they are an expression of my rebirth, a rebirth I was so generously gifted after having betrayed myself by succumbing to the echoing voice of obsession. I feel an urgent need to share this bookwith the world, to know that it’s out there, before my inevitable demise.

The Beginning of the Path

Before we delve into the heart of my experience, let us first traverse through the prelude.

I remember growing up six months out of a year in Thailand at a luxurious resort that I considered my second home. I felt welcomed and cherished by the people around me, accepted for who I was. During those early years, I admired life through the joyful lenses of youth, every day felt like a blessing. Life seemed truly magical, I admired the little things such as crabs on the beach and sunsets that faded in the horizon. I was outgoing, eager to make friends, and life felt like heaven on earth.

As the warm embrace of summer ended, a new era of my life was yet to unfold in a new school. I essentially moved because I wasn’t getting the right education and support for my dyslexia in my previous school. The attempts of teachers in my former school, aimed at helping me overcome my dyslexia, consequently led to missing fundamental classes, worsening my overall education. Getting tutored for hours after school became a daily routine, enabling me to complete schoolwork but failing at overcoming the underlying issue, which was my dyslexia. It felt like everyone was ahead of me and I was left behind, a feeling that stuck with me for numerous years.

During my early school years, I endured persistent bullying, all because of the burden of dyslexia I bore. Groups of girls would taunt me, yet I was “too dyslexic” to fully grasp their laughter, so I naively laughed along, unaware of the sting beneath their smiles. Dyslexia made every facet of my early life drastically trickier, twisting even the upmost simplest tasks into a maze of utter confusion.

Particularly in school, I found myself working twice as hard compared to my peers. Every time my classmates ridiculed me, I couldn’t logically understand, but I always felt an unsettling sense of wrongness. This pushed me to stay small and hidden, separate from the rest of my class. The constant feeling of being different from my classmates made me feel profoundly ashamed. Eventually, I repeated a school year, which unexpectedly turned into an absolute blessing. My genuine friends were now in the same class as me, and I finally found peers that treated me nicely, like a person worthy of being received favorably.

Dyslexia did slow me down in my education for a while, momentarily hindering my academic work. However, I consciously decided that I was fed up with feeling shameful about my academic results, thus I worked twice as hard and received higher grades. I worked tirelessly and put much effort into my studies. Suddenly, it happened, the door that was once closed in my brain was now opened. This was a transformative moment that forever changed the course of my academic performance, it was as if everything that didn’t make sense before was now clear and logical, yet academics remained a challenge. In my youth, I thought dyslexia was a curse, but as time passed, I realised it is a blessing in disguise.

As my academic achievements excelled, a subtle yet insidious limiting belief began inhabiting my mind: my self-worth depended solely on academic validation, reaching the highest grades I could. This limiting belief, forged through my past experiences, whispered that my worthiness could only be earned through tireless accomplishments. The more I leaned on academic validation to grasp a sense of worthiness, the more I found myself craving more. This compulsion to prove myself to be worthy metamorphosed into far more destructive outcomes, the shadows of which would haunt my being in ways I shall unveil later on.

Within a blink of an eye, I had grown into an adolescent, accompanied by multiple obsessions that grew to haunt me. At my lowest, books became my savior, igniting a spark of hope amidst the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Books served as a helping hand to lift me up from the endless hole of pain I had buried myself in. I discovered my profound interest in multiple new subjects that lit up a spark in me that was so strong it would never extinguish, inspiring me to embark on a path to writing my own book. Books became my loyal companions that enabled me to shift my life completely. As the empty hole in my heart grew, books were the only glimpse of light within the darkness that engulfed me.

Years later, after Covid diminished, I was finally able to visit Thailand once again. It felt like an eternity since I had set foot in Thailand, though it had only been a couple years. I was filled with ecstasy by the mere thought of returning to my second home. However, as I arrived, after all the time that had gone by, I no longer perceived Thailand the same as I once did, everything felt different. For some reason, Thailand felt off-putting, as if the ambience had changed.

With no former warning, life’s obstacles barged in, causing the little things to no longer fascinate me like they once did. I found myself engulfed in stress and insecurity, worrying about how my body looked in a bikini rather than admiring the morning sunrise. Youth had been covered with a blindfold, replaced by a new pair of eyes that perceived life in a completely different manner. This was the feeling I thought would be exciting in my younger years, the feeling of growing up and dealing with the transition to adolescence. On top of that, school had become much more challenging, forcing me to conform my personal pursuits to maintain my academic results.

As I pondered on the school system and its subtle influence on the subconscious mind, a new perspective illuminated within me. I realized that perfectionism takes root from the seeds we gain, often during childhood. Parents may have unwittingly pressured their child to obtain the highest grades possible, convincing their youthful minds to work hard in order to be rewarded with a prize. Through phrases like, “If you get the highest grade, I’ll reward you with that thing you’ve been asking for,” subconsciously sowing the seeds of a dangerous message to a young mind: that worthiness is conditional, creating a powerful subconscious connection that worth is linked with the attainment of perfection. Through these seemingly innocent types of statements that can vary drastically from the example I shared, individuals create a subconscious connection that you must accomplish something, often deemed as challenging, in order to be worthy, leading to the formation of limiting beliefs.

Limiting beliefs were the demons that devoured my soul, sucking every bit of joy as they convinced me to betray myself for a fleeting, false sense of validation. Yet I chose to overcome them by healing the shadows that resided within, leading to my rebirth.

The Mirror to the Soul

Amidst the gloomy night, I arose from my slumber to go to the bathroom, only to be compelled to look at my own reflection in the mirror.

A familiar-looking figure stared straight into my eyes, she proceeded to ask, “Why do you pretend to be someone you’re not?”

As I stared in disbelief, a confused expression on my face, I answered, “What do you mean? I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”

She sighed in disappointment and proceeded to say, “Look at the precious body you were gifted with. Why do you feel the need to alter who you are, masking your essence? Why do you inflict such harm upon your physical body? It’s a priceless gift, one that shouldn’t be blamed for your haunting traumas. Why this tireless need to seek external validation? All the love you so desperately seek externally lies within yourself, for the very essence that remains neglected patiently awaits your acceptance. Why do you place so much importance on other people’s perception of you? Why cultivate all this self-hatred?”

Tears welled in my eyes as her wise words struck my soul, enabling me to realize the foolishness of my self-criticism. Filled with a merging sense of hope, I asked, “Who are you? Why are you telling me this? Why do you seem so familiar and how do you know me?”

As she tilted her head to the side, her serene gaze calmed me. Her eyes brimming with love, she said, “My identity matters not, for I have come to you to deliver a message. Use my words to save yourself from the agony you’ve been inflicting upon yourself, liberate yourself from the generational curse of such limiting beliefs. You deserve far more than to succumb to the chains of your addiction.”

Goosebumps crawled up my spine as I heard the clock tic midnight. Silence invaded the room as my vision blurred out, still unaware if this was a dream or a hallucination made up by my troubled mind, for I no longer knew what was real. Dissociation had become my refuge, one that provided a glimpse of relief as I realized that I could simply quit life altogether.

Her body began to fade as I stared into the mirror. Her gentle voice vanishing with each word, “But if you must know, I am you. I am the neglected self within, waiting to be healed, a representation of your neglected innocence. I rest within your soul, emerging for a mere instant to send you this message that you so desperately need to grasp. You are profoundly pained, your bloodstained wounds are slowly dimming your spark, and carelessly tormenting your soul. I urge you to heed my message. You must trust yourself and the power you hold within. I am you, a certain version of yourself wise enough to understand…”

Her divine presence dissolved into thin air, leaving me questioning what had just happened. In that moment, my body was carried to my bed by an unseen presence, for I was far too weak to walk, and suddenly my eyes shut. I felt at peace after that strange and otherworldly experience that surprisingly did not scare me.

Finding Light Amidst the Oppressive Darkness

Self-limiting beliefs cause us to doubt ourselves when what we should be doubting is the belief itself.1

— Tracy Nowell Coaching

Have you ever noticed how, all of a sudden, we feel we should be doing something, feeling a certain way, or even looking a certain way? These expectations we place upon ourselves, in reality, stem from society’s definition of success and happiness. We pressure ourselves to conform to society’s expectations to achieve constant happiness with merely materialistic pursuits. But what we often overlook is that without “bad,” there is no “good.” We must learn to detach from the limiting belief that we need to constantly be feeling great and perform our best in order to be worthy.

We often lose ourselves in the relentless demands of perfection, productivity, and self-imposed worthiness, a reflection of societal limiting beliefs that we’ve inevitably internalized to grasp a sense of worthiness and gratification. When we fulfill these self-imposed expectations, believing we will be rewarded in different ways, we eventually realize that it is the very thing that feeds our profound discontent. We are creatures who incessantly fancy more than we already have, caring far too much about other people’s perception of us. This tireless pursuit of always striving for more than we already have, often driven by a thirst for validation while taking the countless blessings we already possess for granted, is also a contributing factor of mental disorders. When we feel freshly achieved, we expect to feel this profound sense of accomplishment, happiness, and endless satisfaction, but oftentimes that feeling of joviality eventually fades quicker than we expected.

The “shoulds” of society, signifying social expectations, oftentimes become our own “shoulds,” we internalize them into our belief system. When we fulfill the “shoulds” of society, we may momentarily feel a glimpse of happiness and pride. Nevertheless, reality intervenes and wakes us up from the illusion that was formed through societal norms. The inevitable reality is that everyone is at a different stage of their own unique journey through life, we mustn’t fall for these limiting beliefs, for they have been programmed subconsciously through generations of limiting mindsets, a sort of generational curse.

We are all undeniably unique and have different needs. For example, what could be considered unhealthy for one individual, may be healthy and very much needed for another. I’ve seen time and time again that being healthy is marketed as a “one size fits all” approach, but that is far from the truth. Unfortunately, I learned this lesson only after falling in this vicious trap, already engulfed in countless limiting beliefs, drowning in them as I became a slave to my growing obsessions.

I went through multiple obsessions, each seemingly worse than the last, all driven by an all-consuming cycle and unending “goals.” I constantly craved more, and no matter how much effort and energy I invested in these unending pursuits, I never felt good enough. No matter what I did, every time I looked upon my reflection that stood in front of me in the mirror, I always believed I was never good enough. That was until one day, when I chose to commit to one of the most uncomfortable paths: my healing journey.

With all this being said, I want to introduce you to a significant era of my life that I consider the short introduction to the destructively chaotic path that awaited ahead:

“Filling the Empty Hole with Emptiness”

During this challenging period of my life, I grappled with the onset of disordered eating habits, a way to suppress the emotions I so desperately sought to numb. Initially, I struggled with overindulgence, followed by complete starvation, though this short-lived period was merely a foretell to the plights that were to emerge. It was a short period, merely representing a whisper compared to the tempest that was to emerge, a deadly voice that would later overshadow my entire life until my very last chance.

Upon returning home, weighed down by the overwhelmingly tireless week I endured, I sought a mere instant of solace in the familiar grip of short-lived distractions. Yet these fleeting moments of relief quickly morphed into deafening struggles, ones that submerged me in a destructive solace. This behavior buried me in a pit of profound guilt, forming a toxic cycle of overindulgence, followed by days of deprivation, trapping me within the confines of utter despair. In reality, I was suppressing my emotions, seeking peace within the disorder itself, akin to a destructive refuge.

I felt like an utter disappointment, leaving a sense of disgust imprinted upon my skin. The mere thought of living as the person I had become was unbearable; I yearned to escape this physical world and exist purely as a spirit rather than a spirit trapped in a body. I felt miserable, unable to identify the source of this deep sadness within me or why it constantly seemed to be taunting my being. As soon as the overwhelming weight of my previous suppressed emotions attempted to surface, destructive coping mechanisms had a way to take control over me, manipulating me into believing that it could help me evade my life for just an instant. Little did I know that such a loss of control would push me into a deadly trap, one where I desperately sought complete control.

I searched for ways to escape my destructive habits, for I grew consciously aware of their merciless destruction. Yet amidst my desperate attempts to heal through quick fixes, all I was doing was merely putting a bandage over a gaping wound. Instead of healing the root cause of my anguish, I was merely suppressing my profound inner turmoil that persecuted my being. The best way to put it is that I believed I was filling a profound void of emptiness within myself, yet I was only aggravating it. The coping mechanism I had formed through my relationship with food became akin to a compelling drug, offering a fleeting moment of relief and a brief escape as my focus began revolving around it.

Each indulgence, followed by torturous starvation, provided an ephemeral refuge from my overwhelming responsibilities, serving as a distraction from my gaping sorrow. In actuality, it was never truly about the food itself, it was about having a distraction from all the persistent stress and agonizing wounds that lay deep within my soul. Yet, I was a fool for suppressing my emotions, for they were inevitably going to burst at some point, like an overflowing glass of water.

I remember one particular moment that marked the metamorphosis of this cycle during this period of my life. It began with an enormous headache—an unusual one that paradoxically made me feel liberated yet was intensely painful. It felt as if I wasn’t in my body, as if I wasn’t really physically present. In that moment, I was the conscious observer of my reality, detached from the material body I was placed in. I felt free yet trapped. As I lay in my bed, droplets of liquid ran down my arid skin. This moment felt eternal and divine, one that cannot fully be explained through mere words. Though I cannot distinguish whether it was a dream or reality, for it has faded into distant memory.

My mother entered my room and lay beside me, holding me in her arms filled with pure, unconditional love. This moment was so precious to me; I felt at peace as my head rested on her, and she ever so gently caressed me. I felt an overwhelming sense of safety, one that felt so rehashing amidst the chaos I had created. I closed my eyes and hoped to remain in this moment forever. I sobbed, still consciously ignorant as to why I felt this profound sadness that was buried within me, consuming my soul. That instant marked the beginning of my pilgrimage, or in other words, the beginning of my chaotically destructive path that eventually led to profound healing. It was the start of a journey encumbered with obstacles yet loaded with growth and inner liberation.

I’ve come to realize that we often become fixated on immediately solving our struggles and setbacks but overlook the very root cause that triggered them in the first place. While I couldn’t seem to nail the exact origin behind my disordered eating pattern, I always had a creeping feeling that it stemmed from unresolved trauma. I believe that I began encountering disordered eating habits partly because I confused food with feeling emotionally relieved or as a mere distraction. Despite all this sadness built within my being that accumulated from early childhood, this was merely the prologue to the rollercoaster journey that awaited me.

The following part was one of the toughest periods of my life so far, I call this part of my journey…

“The metamorphosis of a toxic cycle and the beginning of a new destructively chaotic era”

Following my disordered eating habits and my relentless quest to grasp academic perfection as a means to validate my worth, my ceaseless struggles metamorphosed into an obsession far worse than anything I had encountered previously. I desperately yearned to feel worthy, a profound thirst for validation likely rooted from trauma. Individuals often form limiting beliefs due to trauma, external influences, and social stereotypes, creating toxic patterns which later grow to haunt them. This profound thirst for acceptance gave birth to a deadly obsession: I tremendously and insatiably desired to shed as much weight as possible, another loop of torture as I began entirely starving myself, offering a sense of immense control.

It all commenced on a seemingly ordinary day. I remember sitting in class, feeling pangs of hunger. Oddly, I took a perverse pleasure in starving myself, forcefully maintaining a sense of emptiness within my stomach. Amidst the hardships I was enduring at that time, I believed that starving myself would numb the emotions I so desperately sought to suppress. And for a while, it worked, or at least it served as a distraction for a short period of time. It felt like a twisted satisfaction, it made me feel special, it made me feel in control.

However, I was not yet healed enough to acknowledge that everyone’s needs are different physically, mentally, and socially. As a consequence of my burning desire to lose weight, I began mimicking the exact portion sizes and eating pace of my past roommate, skipping a couple of meals in between in the hope of losing weight. I did this mainly because I noticed that she ate small portions at a slow pace, and knowing that she could do it motivated me to stick to this new regime for several weeks.

Unsurprisingly, I was under-eating, signaling my body to go into survival mode by slowing down my metabolism. This triggered a whole load of health problems such as digestive issues, deteriorating physical health, and an overwhelming sense of unhappiness and dissatisfaction that spiraled into a depressive state. My misguided endeavor to find solace in starvation only worsened that profound sense of despair and sadness.

A couple of weeks later, I got called into the nurse’s office for a check-up. As I stepped onto the scale, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline invaded my body, eager to finally unveil the number I weighed on the scale. There it was—I was at the exact weight I was hoping for. I lost a part of myself that day, the forfeiture of the spark I once cherished. I was slowly sacrificing my happiness and enjoyment of life as this insatiable obsession grew to haunt me, for this was merely the beginning down a deadly path.

Amidst the crack of dawn, I committed myself to intense workouts before any glimmer of light arose, striving to achieve a lean physique, one that I sought out of a place of insecurity as the media continually reinforced this beauty standard. After consistently doing these exercises, combined with being in a significant calorie deficit, I finally grasped the physique I desired. I craved losing weight because deep down it made me feel like I was worth something, a twisted way to prove my worthiness.

I embodied the physical traits that were preached desirable, aligning with my whole social-media feed that centered around dieting and beauty standards. Despite having reached my goal of losing weight, I still felt empty, akin to a pit of misery. As a matter of fact, I had never felt worse. As the holidays approached, I decided to push myself to the extreme by completely starving myself.

From this point forwards, the path darkened, and I found myself pushing away the people I loved, sinking into complete isolation. The reflection in the mirror grew to become an utter stranger, unrecognizable. I hid away, secretly exercising and continually lying about my food intake, all as a means to avoid my mother’s watchful eye. Her profound concern had turned into a tight grip in which I felt trapped, where my every move was clouded by fear and deception.

During the holidays, beneath the radiant sun of Thailand, anxiety overshadowed my being at the dining table. I sat there, shackled like a prisoner to my own mind, dreading the chaos that this insidious addiction would unleash, as it had done countless times before. The flavorful dishes that stood before me remained untouched, for I had become a devoted slave to anorexia. My mother’s frustration simmered, fueled by the profound sadness built up inside her as she witnessed her daughter wither away, day by day. Despite her relentless efforts in forcing recovery onto me, I couldn’t betray anorexia. Amidst such a dark period, she lost her vibrant daughter, as I lost myself, submerging into the profound abyss that had already engulfed my being.

Every conversation with my mother spiraled into an argument, for even the upmost innocent comment between us turned into chaotic conflict. Driven by her desperate yearning for my recovery, she forcefully attempted to impose it upon me. Yet, anorexia’s force brutally clashed with her, creating a cacophony of screams. One torturous truth about anorexia is that if one doesn’t obey to the merciless voice, it feels like it is the end of the world. I felt condemned to fighting for my addiction despite loathing it, despite it ripping my life apart.

My mother’s tender-hearted attempts to force recovery onto me only triggered my obsession further, for I was merely a servant with no say in the matter. The constant screams and bitter arguments still linger painfully in my memory. The heartbreak in my mother’s eyes cut deeply, colliding our mutual suffering during these painful moments.

Over the course of a few years, I repeatedly visited a wellness center to receive treatments aimed at enhancing my recovery and well-being. Despite the help I was offered through the countless treatments and infusions I underwent, I remained foolishly enslaved to the self-destructive path of anorexia. I restricted my food intake to the point where the liveliness I once had within me had entirely vanished, for my body was on its last reserve. Life felt like an endless loop of torture, bound to suffer and betray myself for a false sense of worthiness. Each morning, I awoke with the stern sense that my purpose was to obey anorexia, inching slowly towards death. Every moment was pure agony; I was a prisoner to an insatiable will to shed as much weight as possible. Trying to break free from such chains would evoke a war that I was deeply terrified of and sought to avoid at all costs.

There is so much more to this experience that goes beyond the limitations of words—these words are no more than a droplet compared to the tsunami of experiences I traversed. My mother’s relentless efforts clashing with my tormented resistance merely caused further heartbreak, separating my innocent, lively self further day by day. I didn’t dare to disobey the torturous voice, for I desperately sought a sense of worthiness. I was petrified at the mere thought of gaining weight, I believed that I had to prove my worthiness through sacrifice. Despite my unwavering faith that I would one day recover, the monstrous, obsessive voice in my mind kept ordering me to get sicker. The voice continuously echoed in my mind, pushing me further, expanding the void of emptiness within my being. Isn’t it just so ironic that we claim to have “free will,” yet we often are the very beings enslaving ourselves?

During this period of my life, I received all the “compliments” I had once longed for and expected once I became thinner. I remember my friend’s mother pulling me aside privately, and in a worried tone, weighed with concern, asked if everything was alright and if the weight I had lost was intentional. Worry engraved itself on those around me as they remarked how surprisingly skinny I had gotten. My mother, with her voice filled with heaviness, told me I looked sickly, like a ghost. My body was depleted to its last reserves, stripping off most of its muscle mass and vitality.

In all honesty, I secretly relished being treated differently; it made me feel like I was worth being taken care of, like I truly earned love and care. I mistook all their concern as compliments, I thought I wanted the attention of others in order to validate my worth. Yet, instead of feeling worthy and valued, it made me feel a profound sense of hopelessness. I thought to myself, perhaps if I was sick enough to be hospitalized, then I would finally be regarded as special enough to be worthy of love and care.

I recall my teacher pulling me aside, his eye contact agitated with worry as he privately asked if I was doing alright and brought up grievous weight loss. I proceeded to force a smile, concealing my profound sense of dissociation and emptiness, and lied by insisting that everything was perfectly fine, acting dumb as if I didn’t know anything about my weight loss. I hated myself for lying so much, it became a daily ritual at school, it was like a façade that served as a shield.

The only time of the week in which I could truly shed this perverse pretense was during therapy, it was the only time I felt heard and accepted. Each time I entered the therapy room, a wave of relief and safety engulfed me, it was my safe place, a brief moment to take a breath before drowning again and being submerged by the suffocating reality. Usually, I would always cry during therapy sessions, it was like a cathartic release of profound suffering and pain, but during this gloomy period of my life I merely felt numbness and cold. Yet even with that anchorage, my soul was chained to this raging addiction, consuming me from the inside.

Month after month, I revisited wellness centers and received multiple perfusions for different elements my body lacked. Despite the continual pressure from my mother, I was not ready to recover. We will inevitably stumble upon obstacles on our unique journeys, and it is up to us to respond to it in a manner that will allow each of us to grow and evolve, even if it initially feels terrifyingly petrifying. Remember, we can’t control outside circumstances; we can only control our response to the outside world.

I was torn apart, engulfed in internal turmoil, yet I projected a façade that claimed to be of health and body-positivity. However, façades can be disappointing, and I was far from healthy. People applauded me, for they only witnessed a mere glimpse of my journey, they only saw what I wanted them to see, the carefully fabricated image I presented them. Most were oblivious to the psychological torture I was enduring, carelessly starving my body.

I meticulously displayed an online persona aimed to depict a healthy version of myself, utilizing social media as a mask to conceal the truth, hiding the imperfections that lay beneath. Don’t be fooled, for many of us blend into the crowd, donning façades as masks, betraying our authentic selves to blend into the crowd. Just like Franz Kafka once said, “I was ashamed of myself when I realized that life is a masquerade party, and I attended with my real face.” We live in a world where the genuine truth is veiled, masked by a social façade, disguising profound cries for help within.

My body cried out for help, yet I was incapable of healing it, for I was the very destructor orchestrating its own destruction. My body, truncated to a mere sack of bones, reflected the havoc within. I remember my friends ordering hot chocolate at a restaurant while I chose tea. I chose tea, a warm cup of water to provide some semblance of warmth to my skeletal form—a warm cup low in calories, low in joy. I remember my friends indulging in warm plates of pasta while I once again chose a cold, sombre salad. I remember my friends wearing tank tops while I hid beneath a sweater. I remember holding my friend’s hand and feeling the stark contrast between their warm skin and my cold, dry touch. I remember watching my friends progress joyfully through puberty while I withered away, losing any recollection of who I once had been. I was a dead plant in a field filled with flourishing flowers.

Though, all I hadn’t considered the extent at which this obsessive drive would take me. Yet I would soon reach the absolute limit, one that drove me to decide between life and death.

I can vividly recall this one particular moment in Thailand during this chaotic period which significantly marked me, the night where everything could have gone terribly wrong. It was the morning after an unbearably gut-wrenching night in which I felt horrendously sick, one which shall never cease to haunt the chambers of my recollection. Previously, I had consulted with a doctor who meticulously examined my development. He informed me that I lacked many essential nutrients, meaning that I was in desperate need of incorporating certain types of food in my diet. So, that same evening, I followed his advice and ate the foods he advised. However, I had indulged in an unusually dense meal, a shock for my system which had become unaccustomed to receiving so much food.