Amaryllis
September 5th, 2011, 04:47 AM
Today I'm 15. 2 years ago, I developed a mental illness called Anorexia and Orthorexia Nervosa, as well as compulsive overexercise and body dysmorphia. My life spiralled out of control.
I spent my 14th birthday crying, freaking out and exercising over half a slice of my birthday cake. It was one of my "bad" foods. By then, I was a walking skeleton but I didn't care. I was in control. Of course, I wasn't. Control was the last thing I had. My body was eating itself, trying to stay alive but at the same time, my organs were shutting down. I was dying.
Believe me, I wanted to recover. Really, I did. But I couldn't. Sometimes I'd wish I could just give up. Just starve and watch the numbers slip. Skinnier, skinnier, skinnier. Until finally, I was 0. Recovery isn't easy. It never is. It isn't a journey where you take 2 steps forward and 1 step back. It was more like a step some days, static sometimes, a couple steps back on bad days. Really, it was so much easier to just give up.
Eventually, I was hospitalised and put on a drip. I was 50 pounds. A little voice told me then, "Yes. You did it. You're a freak now. You have a reason to be sad. You're stronger than everyone - you went where none of your friends could. Good girl. You're one of us now. A skeleton. A starver. An anorexic."
A stronger voice told me something else though. Just a simple sentence. Nothing fancy. But nonetheless, the one sentence that saved my life. "I can't live like this anymore."
I realised I didn't want to spend the rest of my life watching the food channel like it was porn, reading calorie books like they were bibles and exercising like it was a religion. I didn't want to die this way either. Not when I could recover. Not when I'd come this far. This wasn't the life I wanted so it wouldn't be the life I'd live.
I still stumbled after that. It was like running up a massive escalator that was running down with a skeletal hand grabbing onto my ankle. Never letting go. I was tired, afraid and alone. But you know what? I just kept pushing.
Some days were bad. Some days, I just wanted to starve. To give in. It was too hard, too painful to recover. What would I be without my eating disorder? What would be left? Ana was strong, she was holding me up, listening to her was my way of coping. It kept me from thinking, kept me from everything but the pain of what I was doing to myself. Why when I could keep this beautifully ugly, skeletal body? I wanted to live but I wanted to die.
But eating disorders are not coping mechanisms. They are not lifelines. Starvation was not a death that would provide release. Eating disorders magnify pain - they make you wish you never started in the 1st place. It is a slow and painful death.
Today I ate a slice of my birthday cake. And then some more and I stopped because I was too full. I didn't exercise because I was too lazy to. I didn't cry. I didn't cut. I gained all the weight back and then some more. But that's okay, because I don't want to live my life listening to Ana. I'm meant for greater things. I sing, draw, photograph, write, help and laugh.
I never thought recovery was possible but it is. So don't give up now cause it's worth it. Life gets better.
Love,
Faith and Trust
EDIT: And here's a little recovery guide I wrote but it's pretty long :) Read it if you have time.
http://www.virtualteen.org/forums/showthread.php?t=110035
I spent my 14th birthday crying, freaking out and exercising over half a slice of my birthday cake. It was one of my "bad" foods. By then, I was a walking skeleton but I didn't care. I was in control. Of course, I wasn't. Control was the last thing I had. My body was eating itself, trying to stay alive but at the same time, my organs were shutting down. I was dying.
Believe me, I wanted to recover. Really, I did. But I couldn't. Sometimes I'd wish I could just give up. Just starve and watch the numbers slip. Skinnier, skinnier, skinnier. Until finally, I was 0. Recovery isn't easy. It never is. It isn't a journey where you take 2 steps forward and 1 step back. It was more like a step some days, static sometimes, a couple steps back on bad days. Really, it was so much easier to just give up.
Eventually, I was hospitalised and put on a drip. I was 50 pounds. A little voice told me then, "Yes. You did it. You're a freak now. You have a reason to be sad. You're stronger than everyone - you went where none of your friends could. Good girl. You're one of us now. A skeleton. A starver. An anorexic."
A stronger voice told me something else though. Just a simple sentence. Nothing fancy. But nonetheless, the one sentence that saved my life. "I can't live like this anymore."
I realised I didn't want to spend the rest of my life watching the food channel like it was porn, reading calorie books like they were bibles and exercising like it was a religion. I didn't want to die this way either. Not when I could recover. Not when I'd come this far. This wasn't the life I wanted so it wouldn't be the life I'd live.
I still stumbled after that. It was like running up a massive escalator that was running down with a skeletal hand grabbing onto my ankle. Never letting go. I was tired, afraid and alone. But you know what? I just kept pushing.
Some days were bad. Some days, I just wanted to starve. To give in. It was too hard, too painful to recover. What would I be without my eating disorder? What would be left? Ana was strong, she was holding me up, listening to her was my way of coping. It kept me from thinking, kept me from everything but the pain of what I was doing to myself. Why when I could keep this beautifully ugly, skeletal body? I wanted to live but I wanted to die.
But eating disorders are not coping mechanisms. They are not lifelines. Starvation was not a death that would provide release. Eating disorders magnify pain - they make you wish you never started in the 1st place. It is a slow and painful death.
Today I ate a slice of my birthday cake. And then some more and I stopped because I was too full. I didn't exercise because I was too lazy to. I didn't cry. I didn't cut. I gained all the weight back and then some more. But that's okay, because I don't want to live my life listening to Ana. I'm meant for greater things. I sing, draw, photograph, write, help and laugh.
I never thought recovery was possible but it is. So don't give up now cause it's worth it. Life gets better.
Love,
Faith and Trust
EDIT: And here's a little recovery guide I wrote but it's pretty long :) Read it if you have time.
http://www.virtualteen.org/forums/showthread.php?t=110035