Orthorexia: How She Changed My Life

I'm Xanthe Freed and I'm another teenager with a secret. Mine is bigger than most. It's not relevant to boys, it's not relevant to bitches. I'm just a girl with a problem- and that problem is Orthorexia Nervosa.
I'm Xanthe Freed and this is my story.

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11. Cracking

School was awful the following Monday. Word had gotten out that I'd relapsed and everyone wanted to get a look at me. In registration I heard my name at least six times, at break Grace and Jill were staring at me as if I was about to disappear into thin air and at lunch time I was watched by everyone sitting on tables close to my table. That was when I'd had enough.

I pushed my tray away from me, having only picked at my food. Deryn stared at me. I folded my arms and sat back in my chair.

"Xanthe, what are you doing?" Deryn asked, leaning forward so that she was whispering.

"They all know, Deryn. It's not a secret any more. They want a show. They want to see the relapse. And the can have their fucking relapse if they want it!" I snapped.

"Xan, don't do this for their benefit," Deryn pleaded.

"I'm not doing it for their benefit. I'm doing it for myself. If I end up going to rehab, which I will, I may as well go in at my worst."

"Don't say that. You won't go to rehab. You're not that ill."

"You don't know that. No one knows how ill I am. Not even I know, Deryn. I was convinced that things were getting better, but they got so much worse."

By this time, several eyes were on us, including Joel who was making a beeline to sit with us. I got up from my chair, grabbed my bag and looked around at all of my peers.

"Are you all happy now?" I hissed, storming off, shoving past Joel on my way out of the canteen.

I avoided both Deryn and Joel for the rest of the afternoon, choosing to sit in the nurse's office, claiming that I felt violently ill. Of course, school knew about what had happened over the weekend, so they let me sit in stoney silence for two hours. Gretchen was waiting for me outside of the school office after the 3:30 bell chimed. She looked upset and confused.

"What the hell were you doing in the canteen earlier, making a scene like that? You're only making things harder for yourself, Xanthe. I want you to get better! I'm not going to let you make yourself any worse!"

"Oh shove off, Gretchen. I already have mum and dad on my case. I don't need you telling me what to do too," I said through gritted teeth, walking away from her.

"I only do this because I care about you!" Gretchen screamed at me as I continued to increase the distance between us.

I didn't show my face at home that night. Instead, I locked myself in my room with a pile of junk food, staring at it for hours until I finally cracked. £10 worth of junk, gone. And then I threw it all up. My whole family heard me purging. I did it for over an hour, until all that was coming up was bile. Shortly after purging, I passed out on the bathroom floor. 

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