Trisha T.
Photography by Lydia Troupe
Dear Reader,
Trisha’s letter describes her personal journey with an eating disorder and we advise those who may be triggered by these topics to exercise caution when reading this letter. If you are struggling please reach out to our Peer Contacts or one of the resources listed on our Resources Page.
Sincerely, The IfYoureReadingThis Team
If you’re reading this, you are strong enough to overcome challenges even when they unexpectedly come your way.
In July, I boarded the SkyView in Atlanta.
The ride felt around 15 minutes…maybe more, maybe less. I can’t remember clearly because I was distracted by the company.
I was filled with a nervous energy halfway through - when should I make a move? What’s right for her? My thoughts fluttered away from me and out of my head.
When I boarded the SkyView on July 25th, I never got off. To this moment, I am still in that tiny air-conditioned cabin.
The company is different. The view is different. But I’m still stuck within its four walls, my vision flashing with its brightly colored spokes.
Thinking back, the first time I rode a SkyView was in Toronto. I was eight years old. I don’t remember it very well, but I was there. And thinking about it, I never really left.
Round and round, round and round, sometimes to the point of boredom, sometimes to the point of panic, of glee that ended suddenly and of the darkness that persisted- I never disembarked from the SkyView.
The lights were off for the first half, but I was stuck. I was dazzled by worlds that didn’t even exist, gazing out the windows of my cabin while life threw me in a loop and people threw me around like dust.
Eventually, the night set and the lights flickered on. The neon glare blinded me, and I couldn’t see 2 inches in front of my face.
People would ask me why I’m doing it. Why do I keep going back? Why do I stop eating twice a year? You have a great family, you have friends, you live comfortably, you’re smart and attractive…
If life is a feast, why do you starve yourself?
I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe it’s because every time I reach the top of the SkyView and get to admire the city skyline, I plummet back down. My life is enclosed within the four walls of this cabin and I cannot escape the cyclical journey the wheel takes me on. I bang on the walls sometimes, but they do not let me out. I’m too far above ground. It would be dangerous to get out. I need to stay locked in this claustrophobic box filled with people I despise…the biggest one being myself.
Sometimes I dreamt of opening up the top of the cabin. I would fly, fly, fly away, until I was among the stars and had completely lost sight of the Earth. I would finally be reunited with the light coursing through my veins.
But that would involve leaving behind everyone on Earth who wouldn’t make it to the stars soon, I told myself. Not that I didn’t try to get there… I always came back. I stayed.
I stayed in my cabin. For fourteen years.
Last week, the air conditioning in my cabin stopped working. For a luxury Ferris wheel, it was totally unprecedented. I was enjoying the view while I was stuck at the top, and when the lack of cooling threw me off, I realized, for the first time, that I haven’t set foot on the Earth for more than half my life.
How do I exit this doomed Ferris wheel? How do I finally make it to the ground for long enough to open up the door and exit? I’ve never done it before… the last time I was out of this damned cabin was at the age of 7.
That’s a question I’d like to answer, but I don’t know the answer quite yet. But I will keep looking. I will keep trying. I will reach out across time and distance through the portal of SkyViews to get to the child who boarded that SkyView in Toronto and tell her that even though people in her life will cause her to self-combust, she will come up from the flames. She will be okay. She is enough.
Trisha T. (she/her), Georgia Tech
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