Simrah's Story
Simrah Sohail, a 23-year-old from Karachi, Pakistan, spent two years battling anorexia and bulimia in silence, feeling isolated in a society where eating disorders are rarely acknowledged. As her struggle consumed her identity, she found herself trapped in self-destruction, believing she deserved the pain. But a moment of clarity changed everything—she realized that chasing an unrealistic ideal had cost her everything, yet still hadn’t brought happiness. Choosing recovery wasn’t easy, but with resilience and hope, she is reclaiming her life, determined to write a new chapter filled with strength and self-love.
My Story
The Silent Battle
Hi, I’m Simrah, a 23-year-old from Karachi, Pakistan. For the past two years, I’ve been fighting an invisible war—one that stole my identity, my peace, and everything I once cherished. Anorexia turned into bulimia, and my life spiraled into a black hole.
Living with an eating disorder (ED) in a desi society isn’t just a challenge; it’s a battle within a battle. Here, food is at the heart of every tradition and celebration. To struggle with something so deeply entwined in our culture is isolating. But the hardest part? The silence. EDs don’t exist in our society. People don’t talk about them, and they certainly don’t understand them. For a long time, neither did I.
Losing Control
I didn’t choose this battle. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to turn food into an enemy. It happened slowly, quietly, until it consumed me. My identity disappeared. My control over myself vanished. I withdrew from my friends, my family, and the life I once had. And the worst part? I started finding comfort in the very thing that was destroying me.
A Moment of Clarity
Self-abuse became my escape. Purging until I bled, gasping for air, feeling every ounce of life being drained from my body—it became my way of coping. My body was weak, but my mind was weaker. And I let it happen because, in those moments, I believed I deserved it.
But then came a moment of clarity, one that shook me to my core. I looked at myself and realized I had achieved the “perfect” look society glamorizes—a smaller frame, a zero figure, but at what cost? I had nothing else. The girl I was, the one with big dreams, energy, and a love for life- was gone. I had traded everything for a body that felt hollow, and I still wasn’t happy.
I asked myself: Five years from now, do I want to rely on antidepressants just to feel normal? No. That was my turning point.
Choosing Recovery
Recovery hasn’t been easy. It’s messy and painful. But taking that first step, the hardest one, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m learning that I deserve more than this battle.
With each ending comes a new beginning, a chance to rewrite my story and I will write the best version of it. With love and hope,
Simrah