I feel a bit transparent this Halloween. You see, for the past six months I’ve been a
ghost. That means no name, no presence,
no identity. I am getting nicely paid, and that takes some of the sting out of
transparency, which is a necessary condition for a ghost writer. But this temporary gig has got me thinking
about all the years when I was a ghost of a different kind. It’s got me to thinking about the living
ghosts I encounter every day. For what
is the world of eating disorders but a kind of ghost world?
You have no body that belongs to you.
You cannot own your own true identity.
You give yourself no credit.
You are the servant of a ruthless task master.
You feel insubstantial and powerless.
In the case of models, actors, or athletes who develop
eating disorders under pressure from a demanding coach, casting agent, or
designer, there may even be some financial compensation for becoming a ghost.
But when an eating disorder reduces you to ghosthood, you
cease to exist in any other state. Truly, your condition is an existential crisis. To be
or not to be becomes a grave and persistent challenge.
This reflection throws my current state into bold and happy
relief.
Ghosting as a writer is a job
that I slip into and out of as I choose.
It pays the bills. It gives me the kind of amusement Casper enjoyed in
the cartoons of my ancient youth. There are days when it’s fun to slip out of
my real life roles and into a different persona.
Even when I’m not technically ghosting, I do
this every time I invent a fictional character.
But the difference between ghost writing and the ghost world of eating
disorders is that I can travel
at will between this imaginary being and my own mind and body.
I know who I really am, and I can quit my
ghost role at any time.
My Halloween wish is for all those who are caught in the
ghost world of eating disorders to dare
to quit as if they were only ghost writing. I know, I know all too well how much easier that is to say than to do. But as a friend of mine tells me all the
time, recovery isn’t for sissies. It’s
for real people who are sick and tired of living in a ghost world.
I feel a bit transparent this Halloween. You see, for the past six months I’ve been a ghost. That means no name, no presence, no identity. I am getting nicely paid, and that takes some of the sting out of transparency, which is a necessary condition for a ghost writer. But this temporary gig has got me thinking about all the years when I was a ghost of a different kind. It’s got me to thinking about the living ghosts I encounter every day. For what is the world of eating disorders but a kind of ghost world?
You have no body that belongs to you.You cannot own your own true identity.
You give yourself no credit.
You are the servant of a ruthless task master.
You feel insubstantial and powerless.
In the case of models, actors, or athletes who develop eating disorders under pressure from a demanding coach, casting agent, or designer, there may even be some financial compensation for becoming a ghost.
But when an eating disorder reduces you to ghosthood, you cease to exist in any other state. Truly, your condition is an existential crisis. To be or not to be becomes a grave and persistent challenge.
This reflection throws my current state into bold and happy relief. Ghosting as a writer is a job that I slip into and out of as I choose. It pays the bills. It gives me the kind of amusement Casper enjoyed in the cartoons of my ancient youth. There are days when it’s fun to slip out of my real life roles and into a different persona. Even when I’m not technically ghosting, I do this every time I invent a fictional character. But the difference between ghost writing and the ghost world of eating disorders is that I can travel at will between this imaginary being and my own mind and body. I know who I really am, and I can quit my ghost role at any time.My Halloween wish is for all those who are caught in the ghost world of eating disorders to dare to quit as if they were only ghost writing. I know, I know all too well how much easier that is to say than to do. But as a friend of mine tells me all the time, recovery isn’t for sissies. It’s for real people who are sick and tired of living in a ghost world.