Okay, so in regards to my last post, trying to recover hasn't been going so well. No one actually reads these posts, so I guess this is more for myself to look back on in a few months when hopefully I'm off in college and I'm actually healthy. Over the past few weeks, I kind of let the other voice in my head take control. I lost 6 more pounds within a couple weeks. I was doing better for awhile, but of course... relapse. I guess not going to the doctor seems to be a little bit worse, since I have nothing to aim for anymore. However, I recently started an Instagram to try to help me with recovery and I honestly have to say how shocked I am to find out how many other people are in the same position as me. There are literally hundreds of other girls my age going through this eating disorder. It makes me feel a bit better to know that I'm not alone in my recovery, but it pains me greatly. All of these amazing girls who fell victim to this terrible disease; it just isn't fair. I honestly wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy because it's been hell for me. As if I haven't been stressed enough with the divorce and school and work.
The other day, I met with a nutritionist, which didn't really help. But I sort of had an epiphany afterwards when my mom and I discussed the new information we gained. It FINALLY hit me. I don't want to be miserable all the time or exhausted 24/7 or irritable or frantically counting calories or crying over every single piece of food I put in my mouth or having a panic attack at school because I'm eating in front of people. Because that just gets old. And I'm sick of having another voice in my head. There's only room for one, and that's stubborn old me, NOT the voice of my eating disorder. I WANT to go to college this fall, I WANT to graduate from high school, I WANT to travel this summer, and I WANT my old body back (And most importantly, I want my favorite cousins to come down to see me graduate and uh, hospital=no graduation, which =no cousins). I have so many things to look forward to later on in life and if I'm stuck in the hospital, how am I supposed to experience those things?
The doctor called my mom yesterday and told her she wanted me to come in for a check-up before she put me in the hospital. Naturally, flipping out was my first reaction. But my mom did something I wasn't expecting. She told her to give me a couple weeks so I could get back on track. She stood up for me. She knows the hospital is the last place I want to be and would risk my chances of getting to go to college.
It hit me that this is my FINAL chance I have to make a change. I've been given way too many second chances over the past year and I know this is the last one I have, so I'm going to make it count. Everything happens for a reason and I know that God is giving me another chance to work through this on my own and become stronger from this. So you know what? I'm going to eat. I'm going to gain back to the weight I'm supposed to be. While 86.5 pounds feels good at times, I know it isn't healthy and isn't that what we all want to be? Healthy. Not bone thin. Healthy. I want to be able to go for a run again and exercise and not feel completely winded when I walk up the stairs at school. I want to recover. So I'm going to.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Saturday, March 8, 2014
The Demon Inside
Torture. Anger. Fatigue. Misery. Just a few words to describe this monster. This monster that took hold of my brain about a year ago. No matter how much you try to make it go away, no matter how much you scream and cry and demand that it leave your body, it stays. It stays and taunts you. Tells you you're not good enough, that you're worthless, that you're fat, and that you're never going to be beautiful. Every day is a struggle. Every bite adds on to the desire to self harm. Every meal brings on disaster.
I can't remember why or when exactly this whole thing started. Although, media and all the beautiful, thin girls I see might be part of it. You can't go anywhere without seeing "lose weight by doing this!" or "shrink your stomach with these foods and exercises". It's literally EVERYWHERE. I was never really fat. I was a gymnast for eleven years and my metabolism has never been ridiculously slow. I remember looking in the mirror one day and thought "I want to be healthy! My stomach isn't huge, but it isn't flat either, so I want to try to run and exercise more!" So, I did. I ran almost every night for awhile and didn't really see much of a difference, but I felt so much better when I exercised. After being stressed out too much in school, I couldn't run all the time, so I sort of got away from it. I didn't run near as often for awhile and then I started to think more about my weight. I wouldn't allow myself to eat whatever I wanted anymore because I wasn't running it off. The demon was starting to enter my brain around this time, but it wasn't out of hand. I still ate about the same amount, I just only ate "lighter" foods or "low calorie" things.
Towards the end of summer, I had surgery and got my wisdom teeth taken out. Recovering from the surgery was not fun, but I realized that by hardly being able to eat anything for a couple weeks, I was losing weight. It was really fast, too. I could see my bones a little bit, which made me so happy. I thought that if I could just keep doing this, I would be so small and actually like myself for once. At first, it was great and I still looked healthy, just smaller.
After a few months, the desire to keep losing weight continued to grow more and more. It was now to the point that I was eating about 600 calories a day and exercising for hours at a time. That empty feeling inside... it's a feeling I can't describe. My parents have been in the middle of a nasty divorce for a couple years now, I've lost so many friends and a relationship, and life has been spiraling downwards. I was losing control of everything. But food. Food, I could control. I could control the amount of calories I put into my mouth and the lower the number each day, the happier I was with myself. "You're doing so well and you have such control" was something I would tell myself daily. Every time I looked in the mirror, I could see my bones more and more each day and thought it added character to my appearance. My thighs were no longer touching, even if I tried. My hip bones were protruding and my knees were sunken in. Gratitude. Accomplishment. Happiness. That's what I felt when I looked into the mirror. People were starting to notice more and more and my mom was getting worried. People at work would rush over to grab something when I tried to lift it because they said I was too fragile. I could barely sit down without my legs becoming numb after about five minutes or the bones on my butt stabbing me. It hurt, but it felt so good because I was finally becoming thin. And other people could see, too. I thought that if I was feeling good about myself, others would feel that way about me as well. But people just stared at me without smiling. It was more of a concerned look.
My mom finally gave up after trying so hard to make me eat food. All I did was eat as little as possible and throw huge fits when she would try to force me. She took me to the doctor, where I was told that my BMI was way too low. I needed hospitalization. I freaked. "What was she talking about?! You don't need to be hospitalized. You're not in too deep. If anything, you could lose more weight. If you go to the hospital, they'll overfeed you and make you fat." The voice in my head kept repeating this. I knew the hospital was not something I needed. So I was given time to gain weight and if it didn't happen, the hospital was where I would end up.
I had never been so angry at a person as I was with my mom that day. I remember yelling and crying for hours because she wanted me to be fat. She didn't want me to be small anymore. When I look back now, I wish I could apologize, but it's far too late. This thing was controlling me beyond comprehension and I was letting it. It made me feel better and loved and empty. Emptiness felt better than sorrow.
I counted (and still do, unfortunately) calories frantically. I had countless apps on my phone that told me how many grams of fat were in every single piece of food. I Googled ways to get even smaller. I took out fat and sugar and sodium almost completely out of my diet. I would eat small pieces of fruit but then freak out because of the sugar content, even though it was natural and healthy. I ate tons and tons of vegetables. Water became my best friend. Breads, pasta, and chocolate- gone. Foods that I once loved never entered my body. I would track every single calorie that went into me and at the end of the day, I would feel so accomplished when the number was small. It became an obsession. I couldn't even do my homework without getting side-tracked. When you deprive your body of food, it becomes all you think about. You search recipes all hours of the night. You spend hours on Pinterest looking up ways to make foods as low in calories as possible while running on the treadmill. You can't think of anything else.
Looking back at pictures I had taken of myself when I was at my lowest weight has been helping. Every day is still a struggle as I try to tame this demon inside of me. It isn't gone. Some days, I can eat more and feel fine. Other days, I eat something and want to be sick and get rid of it. But I don't. I know I haven't had this disease for a long time, but it's been long enough for me to lose almost everyone I cared about, almost end up in the hospital, and almost lose my place at college, which is the escape I so desperately need. The pictures show my bones, yes. But they also show the small curves that I used to have are gone. Everything on me was basically deflated. It was just skin and bone; not attractive at all. My teeth were starting to rot. I've never had cavities in my life, but now I have at least five that I need to get taken care of because I was not getting the nutrients I needed to keep them healthy. My heart was starting to slow and skip and I couldn't exercise after awhile because there were numerous times that I almost blacked out.
The constant fatigue, the heart palpitations, the way I was constantly freezing, the mood swings, the bursts of anger that took hold of me, the constant feeling of sadness; I don't miss that. However, this thing isn't gone. It's nowhere near being gone. It still haunts me every day. I've done countless hours of research and found that for most people, it never does truly go away. And that terrifies me to no end. I want to get rid of this. Just being able to admit that is already a start for me. I've been eating more, too. It still kills me inside, but I'm doing it. I can eat something without crying or hurting myself or weighing myself six times every day like I used to. I still monitor my foods to the extreme, which won't go away for awhile, I'm sure. I try to limit foods as much as I can, but still get enough calories everyday. That's the thing. Now, I'm starting to learn that being healthy is better than being as thin as you possible can. It's okay to eat bread and nuts and foods that are healthy for you. Heck, it's okay to eat foods that AREN'T healthy for you, (I can't do that just yet) in moderation, of course. Also, guys like curves, so I'd really like to try to get those back... I have an appointment with a nutritionist next week and I'm hoping they'll be able to help me decide what foods I need to eat without causing me more mental pain.
For anyone struggling with anorexia, I want you to know that you're not alone. It's hard for others to understand this because they don't know what it's like (There's more terrible emotions and side effects, but I figured getting into that would make no difference and I'm trying to push those thoughts out of my head instead of thinking about them again). The pain may seem to never end, but I just know that with time, it will get easier and I'm hoping it does. You're stronger than you think you are. And you're beyond beautiful. Don't let some nonexistent force tell you that you aren't because it's wrong. Do what I'm doing and try to tell yourself something else...
"You can recover. And you will."
I can't remember why or when exactly this whole thing started. Although, media and all the beautiful, thin girls I see might be part of it. You can't go anywhere without seeing "lose weight by doing this!" or "shrink your stomach with these foods and exercises". It's literally EVERYWHERE. I was never really fat. I was a gymnast for eleven years and my metabolism has never been ridiculously slow. I remember looking in the mirror one day and thought "I want to be healthy! My stomach isn't huge, but it isn't flat either, so I want to try to run and exercise more!" So, I did. I ran almost every night for awhile and didn't really see much of a difference, but I felt so much better when I exercised. After being stressed out too much in school, I couldn't run all the time, so I sort of got away from it. I didn't run near as often for awhile and then I started to think more about my weight. I wouldn't allow myself to eat whatever I wanted anymore because I wasn't running it off. The demon was starting to enter my brain around this time, but it wasn't out of hand. I still ate about the same amount, I just only ate "lighter" foods or "low calorie" things.
Towards the end of summer, I had surgery and got my wisdom teeth taken out. Recovering from the surgery was not fun, but I realized that by hardly being able to eat anything for a couple weeks, I was losing weight. It was really fast, too. I could see my bones a little bit, which made me so happy. I thought that if I could just keep doing this, I would be so small and actually like myself for once. At first, it was great and I still looked healthy, just smaller.
After a few months, the desire to keep losing weight continued to grow more and more. It was now to the point that I was eating about 600 calories a day and exercising for hours at a time. That empty feeling inside... it's a feeling I can't describe. My parents have been in the middle of a nasty divorce for a couple years now, I've lost so many friends and a relationship, and life has been spiraling downwards. I was losing control of everything. But food. Food, I could control. I could control the amount of calories I put into my mouth and the lower the number each day, the happier I was with myself. "You're doing so well and you have such control" was something I would tell myself daily. Every time I looked in the mirror, I could see my bones more and more each day and thought it added character to my appearance. My thighs were no longer touching, even if I tried. My hip bones were protruding and my knees were sunken in. Gratitude. Accomplishment. Happiness. That's what I felt when I looked into the mirror. People were starting to notice more and more and my mom was getting worried. People at work would rush over to grab something when I tried to lift it because they said I was too fragile. I could barely sit down without my legs becoming numb after about five minutes or the bones on my butt stabbing me. It hurt, but it felt so good because I was finally becoming thin. And other people could see, too. I thought that if I was feeling good about myself, others would feel that way about me as well. But people just stared at me without smiling. It was more of a concerned look.
My mom finally gave up after trying so hard to make me eat food. All I did was eat as little as possible and throw huge fits when she would try to force me. She took me to the doctor, where I was told that my BMI was way too low. I needed hospitalization. I freaked. "What was she talking about?! You don't need to be hospitalized. You're not in too deep. If anything, you could lose more weight. If you go to the hospital, they'll overfeed you and make you fat." The voice in my head kept repeating this. I knew the hospital was not something I needed. So I was given time to gain weight and if it didn't happen, the hospital was where I would end up.
I had never been so angry at a person as I was with my mom that day. I remember yelling and crying for hours because she wanted me to be fat. She didn't want me to be small anymore. When I look back now, I wish I could apologize, but it's far too late. This thing was controlling me beyond comprehension and I was letting it. It made me feel better and loved and empty. Emptiness felt better than sorrow.
I counted (and still do, unfortunately) calories frantically. I had countless apps on my phone that told me how many grams of fat were in every single piece of food. I Googled ways to get even smaller. I took out fat and sugar and sodium almost completely out of my diet. I would eat small pieces of fruit but then freak out because of the sugar content, even though it was natural and healthy. I ate tons and tons of vegetables. Water became my best friend. Breads, pasta, and chocolate- gone. Foods that I once loved never entered my body. I would track every single calorie that went into me and at the end of the day, I would feel so accomplished when the number was small. It became an obsession. I couldn't even do my homework without getting side-tracked. When you deprive your body of food, it becomes all you think about. You search recipes all hours of the night. You spend hours on Pinterest looking up ways to make foods as low in calories as possible while running on the treadmill. You can't think of anything else.
Looking back at pictures I had taken of myself when I was at my lowest weight has been helping. Every day is still a struggle as I try to tame this demon inside of me. It isn't gone. Some days, I can eat more and feel fine. Other days, I eat something and want to be sick and get rid of it. But I don't. I know I haven't had this disease for a long time, but it's been long enough for me to lose almost everyone I cared about, almost end up in the hospital, and almost lose my place at college, which is the escape I so desperately need. The pictures show my bones, yes. But they also show the small curves that I used to have are gone. Everything on me was basically deflated. It was just skin and bone; not attractive at all. My teeth were starting to rot. I've never had cavities in my life, but now I have at least five that I need to get taken care of because I was not getting the nutrients I needed to keep them healthy. My heart was starting to slow and skip and I couldn't exercise after awhile because there were numerous times that I almost blacked out.
The constant fatigue, the heart palpitations, the way I was constantly freezing, the mood swings, the bursts of anger that took hold of me, the constant feeling of sadness; I don't miss that. However, this thing isn't gone. It's nowhere near being gone. It still haunts me every day. I've done countless hours of research and found that for most people, it never does truly go away. And that terrifies me to no end. I want to get rid of this. Just being able to admit that is already a start for me. I've been eating more, too. It still kills me inside, but I'm doing it. I can eat something without crying or hurting myself or weighing myself six times every day like I used to. I still monitor my foods to the extreme, which won't go away for awhile, I'm sure. I try to limit foods as much as I can, but still get enough calories everyday. That's the thing. Now, I'm starting to learn that being healthy is better than being as thin as you possible can. It's okay to eat bread and nuts and foods that are healthy for you. Heck, it's okay to eat foods that AREN'T healthy for you, (I can't do that just yet) in moderation, of course. Also, guys like curves, so I'd really like to try to get those back... I have an appointment with a nutritionist next week and I'm hoping they'll be able to help me decide what foods I need to eat without causing me more mental pain.
For anyone struggling with anorexia, I want you to know that you're not alone. It's hard for others to understand this because they don't know what it's like (There's more terrible emotions and side effects, but I figured getting into that would make no difference and I'm trying to push those thoughts out of my head instead of thinking about them again). The pain may seem to never end, but I just know that with time, it will get easier and I'm hoping it does. You're stronger than you think you are. And you're beyond beautiful. Don't let some nonexistent force tell you that you aren't because it's wrong. Do what I'm doing and try to tell yourself something else...
"You can recover. And you will."
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