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 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.
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.


