Undiagnosed

Rae Ruane

Instructor’s Introduction

Graphic memoirs–personal stories in the form of comics–create powerful narratives through the juxtaposition of text and image. In WR120: The Graphic Memoir, we study examples of this form that explore challenging subjects including American racism, childhood neglect, medical trauma, homophobia, and suicide. After the class has formed a community through courageous discussions of published graphic memoirs, students write their own.

Rae Ruane’s memoir, “Undiagnosed,” is a fearless example of the genre’s power. Rae’s memoir does not simply report a story from her past; it shapes her present and future through the telling. She shares a family story about disordered eating not from a position of certainty, but from an uncertain and evolving point of view, allowing the composition of the memoir to inform her understanding of herself, her behavior, and her relationships. The narrative voice slips back and forth among versions of herself, repeatedly insisting on her own “denial” of something she “can’t fully acknowledge,” even as she exposes her truths on the page. Rae’s memoir proves the transformative power of the genre: we make our narratives, and, in turn, our narratives make us. 

Jessica Kent

From the Writer

Creating “Undiagnosed” was a very challenging and intimate process. This project was the perfect opportunity to share a story that I had not previously told. In class, I went through three rounds of assignments to polish the story, beginning with a spoken presentation to my classmates, The Moth style. I shared my first draft with my mom and sister and spoke to them on the phone. Portions of this conversation have been reproduced at the end of my memoir as a way to connect my past experiences to my present sentiments. This conversation also helped me to get an outside view of events that I might have otherwise misremembered. I didn’t want to falsely represent elements of my sister’s story. Through my writing process, I have become closer to my sister and mom and also gotten to know myself better. 

Undiagnosed

Dear Reader,

I never intended for this story to be told. I always planned to bury my feelings, squash my fears, and not cause any worry for the people I love. But I knew, deep down, that this would always be a part of me and I couldn’t ignore that forever. My goal with this memoir was to finally allow myself to realize my truth.

Throughout my sister’s battle with anorexia, I watched from the shadows. I knew exactly what I was seeing happen; I’d watched all the YouTube videos of people’s eating disorder timeline photos. I noticed how skinny she was getting, how little she was eating, and how unbelievably thin she looked in her ballet leotards as she would fill her water bottle before leaving for class.

I knew what was happening, and I was jealous. How could I not compare myself to her? Through my dysmorphic eyes, she looked so much skinnier, so much better than me. I could never escape her.

During quarantine, I could never get a break. From anywhere in the house, I could hear her chopping vegetables for her salads or blasting classic rock from the spin bike in the garage. I didn’t have any space to myself. She took over our shared room as a space to do her remote schoolwork. When the door to our room was shut, I knew she was following workout videos. Walking into my own room was really just intruding on her. When she was in therapy, I could hear her conversations through the walls of the house to the extent that my mom had to play music to cover it up. 

Even though I didn’t really recognize it happening, she was influencing me to restrict my eating and start exercising more. Every time I walked by a mirror I would examine my stomach. But even if I had fully acknowledged what was going on, how could I possibly compete with her?

I was such an awful sister that year that my 2021 New Year’s resolution was to be better. We had fights about the dumbest stuff, and she would always cry and use her mental health as an indisputable weapon. We all had to tiptoe around her because it was tragically simple to trigger her. And being so careful about how we talked about food made my obsessions and scrutiny secretly grow.

When I sat down to write my story, I realized that while my sister’s eating disorder may have caused a lot of my issues to come to light, I have always had body image issues and paid special attention to comments about my body. I quit ballet in middle school partly because of the way the tights cut into my stomach. I hated how I looked in the ballet uniform and would cover up as much as possible with a skirt and wrap sweater. I was also a lot taller than the other girls and that compounded how I compared myself to them. I never told my mom why I really quit ballet. She had grown up dancing and it pained me to quit because I knew how much it meant to her. But I just couldn’t do it.

I had to choose between endless examples like this to include in my memoir. Reader, if I listed them all here you would probably stop reading out of boredom because the list would be so long. And I remember them all so vividly, I could easily write them all down. Maybe I will someday, but I will spare you here. But writing this allowed me to make connections between all these scattered memories and helped me convince myself it was a complete story worth telling.

I never wanted to call attention to myself by making my issues public knowledge, something I had to come to terms with in this process. But telling my mom and sister what I’ve really been struggling with all this time was strangely freeing. Don’t get me wrong: I was slightly annoyed at their concern and tried to downplay everything. But I understand how important it is that I address these issues. 

I also understand how important it is to be kind to myself as I share such a vulnerable thing, especially in a format where I am forced to draw my body over and over again. But that is kind of therapeutic. I could’ve chosen a more abstract art style or to not draw anyone’s bodies realistically, but I believe that learning to be comfortable with how I portray myself is an important challenge.

Reader, I wish you luck in realizing your own truth. Please be brave; it’s worth it. Thank you for reading.

Love, Rae Ruane

Rae Ruane is a first year student studying Film and Television in the College of Communications at Boston University. This project gave her the chance to expand her love of writing and visual storytelling in a new medium. She would like to thank her WR120 professor, Jessica Kent, and her sister, Elsey.