Contributed

Girl With The Eating Disorder (Contributed by Lindsay)

Today’s letter was contributed by Lindsay (@lindsholifield)

Dear girl with the eating disorder, You hide in your baggy clothes, hoping no one will see you. You lie and tell them you've already eaten. When you slip away to the restroom after meals, no one suspects a thing. But you are hurting inside. The voice in your head is relentless. Girl who think she will never be free, I promise you there is hope. You may not believe me, but you are beautiful. You deserve so much more than hurting yourself. There is life on the other side. One day you will live that life. You are loved more than you will ever know. Let us in, let us hold you tight and whisper grace over you. Let us walk with you towards healing. Together, we're going to make it. Love, Lindsay

Today’s letter was contributed by Rachel, an extroverted twenty-something writer, reader, learner, and dreamer surviving off coffee and deep conversations. She believes in early mornings, live music, road trips, and finding the good. Follow her thoughts on Twitter at @_rachchristine and her writings at www.sincerelyrachelchristine.com: To the drug-addicted brother from the sister who cannot save you: I just want you to be okay. I heard somewhere that big sisters are supposed to help quench the thirsty dreams of their younger siblings. I’m sorry that I did not do that for you. It’s crazy to be a witness to the erosion of your spirit that’s taken place over the last few years. It’s hard to watch someone so close to my heart become the personification of statistics, symptoms, and stories. It’s safe to say that a drug addict is everything they say he will be; a liar, a thief, and a desperate shadow of a person. You still have a spark every once in awhile, but I sometimes wonder what the size of the flame would be, had heroin not decided to try and squelch it. Would you be a businessman? A drummer? A teacher? Some days I slide down to the floor and cry achingly and I press my palms into my eyes, wishing away reality. It’s like I’m homesick for what used to be, for who you used to be. I want to laugh with the young boy who wore fake glasses in his school picture because he knew “class clown” was in his birthright. I want to joke around with the teenager who will still play Nintendo 64 with me, and won’t laugh when I lose every time. I long for your eyes to see the world through sobriety, through actuality, through redemption. Because the world is an incredibly beautiful place that is desperate for the spark of humanity to come alive. I long for your arms to be pink once more, with signs of life instead of death, signs of healing instead of affliction. I long to know why this is your story – but I don’t know that any of us ever will. It is no less beautiful, and you are no less worthy of hope than any of us. We are a broken people, each of us. You are not alone in this, you are never alone. The fullness of love is attainable; you just have to look for it. I love you. Sincerely, Rachel Christine

The story goes far beyond the cover

Today’s letter was contributed by Sara-Anne (@sara___anne). Her words remind me that stories are often deeper than what we initially perceive. It is these deeper stories that make humanity so beautifully diverse. Check out more of her writing.