I try not to make my posts too dark or serious, but to be perfectly honest I’ve been trying to mask the unfortunate bitch in my head who keeps screaming at me:
“Waste of space!”
Frankly, I wish I could extricate the voice in my head and slap her in the face. But the sad part is, I’m the one devaluing myself and putting myself down. My self-worth has never been very high, but recently I think I’ve hit a new low and as much as I try to stomp the fire out, it just gets worse.
My E.D. has seem to come back with a vengeance. I guess she didn’t like seeing me happy. It’s unfair to have this invisible person hanging around you 24/7, telling you what to do and how much you can take in.
To get a grasp on how this started would be a miracle. But let’s take a walk down memory lane, just for poops and giggles. Five years ago I moved to South Dakota to meet my biological mother. She was incredibly overweight and kind of poor. At that point, I didn’t have enough money to eat more than once a day, but I had gotten by before because I had a meal plan at college and before that I lived with my foster mom who provided my brothers and I with the junkiest of foods.
Seeing how out of control my mother’s weight was, was a wake up call for myself. I was about 170 at 5’4 and I had a low self esteem, but I loved food. When I met my bio mom, something in me said I was going to end up just like her if I didn’t start cutting down my intake. I got controlling with how much I ate. I would literally go to the store once a day so I could get the small item of my choice and I got to choose when to eat it.
Over the course of 6 months of malnourishment, I started getting anxiety attacks and heart palpitations. At one point, I thought I felt my heart stop for 5 seconds or so. Just when the sun started to shine and the snow melted, I moved back to California and went back to school.
When I was back in California, I decided to weigh myself and found I had dropped nearly 50 lbs in those 6 months. It started to get really hard to put food in my mouth and actually keep it down. If I wanted a croissant, I couldn’t eat the whole thing. I nibbled and chewed until I could swallow. I felt bad any time I went out with friends, making them feel awkward that I couldn’t eat with them.
Before my 21st birthday, nearly two years later, I hit E.D. rock bottom. I started fainting at work, my first non-seasonal job. I had to see a doctor and he made me realize that I had a serious problem and it could potentially kill me.
My recovering wasn’t immediate. It took a long time for me to come to terms with my disorder and it’s an ongoing struggle. Lately I’ve been falling back into the habit of starving myself, despite being more educated on how it’ll affect my body.
What makes matters worse is having this other person in my head saying I can’t reach out for help, because if I can’t do this alone, I’m weak and anorexia will win. It doesn’t help that I feel like talking to people would be as effective as talking to a brick wall. I can’t begin to understand what anyone is supposed to say to help or make me feel better.
The only thing I can do right now is look how far I’ve come.