“This is for anyone who’s ever had to watch someone they love struggle with extreme alcoholism.” My girlfriend wrote this beautiful song, worth a listen.
Two teenage girls talking today at Target…”Oh my god! Look at how cute this is…but it is only an XS…sometimes I wish I was anorexic just so I could fit into an XS”
Wait did I just hear you right? Hold on. Let me step a little closer.
“Oh yeah, me too! I mean, but I would totally die without food. That is just crazy.”
Oh. I did hear you right. Alright. Hold yourself back Sam. Don’t say anything. Don’t cry. You’re fine. You’re good. Breathe. Don’t go off on them. Hold your words back. There you go. They are walking away. Breathe. Wipe your face. Don’t let your co workers see you cry. Brave face. Smile. Go back to working. Write about it later. Breathe.
Here we go.
Do you want to know what anorexia is? Do you really want to fucking know? Anorexia is the constant battle of eating food and not. Anorexia is having demons sitting on both your shoulders telling you everything you should not be doing, everything you shouldn’t be eating. Did you exercise today? Well, you better go it before you gain weight. You want to be skinny right? Well, today you don’t eat anything. Actually any day you don’t eat anything. Got it? No excuses. It is feeling tired 24/7 but working out anyways. It is your eyes blacking out every time you try to stand up, passing out after walking into your room. It is your heart having a pulse rate of 190 just from walking up stairs. Anorexia is your hands shaking while typing and your legs shaking just from trying to stand. It is constantly telling people you can’t go out because you know food is there and there is no way out of it. It is absolutely hating your body. It is hiding the dark circles under eyes. It is a set of rules you follow everyday and if you fail, you are no good. It is pushing people away, as well as completely losing people. Anorexia is wanting to tell someone, but can’t. It is lying. Deceitful. Manipulative. It is your hip bones scraping against your jeans, but loving the feeling. It is seeing your ribs that makes you feel like you are getting somewhere. Anorexia is living off the growling of your stomach. Feeling accomplished because you are hungry, but aren’t eating. It is seeing your collarbones and wanting to see more. It is something that will ruin your running career, but that doesn’t stop you. Anorexia is a mental and physical illness. It is having one person there to help you, but being unable to help yourself. It is you refusing to stop because you want the results again. It is you knowing you need to step, but just can’t. It is the secret you keep, even when you tell other people that you’re doing fine. It is your mind rejecting any food you try to eat, throwing it up unintentionally. There is no way out once you step in. You can only learn to cope. And try to recover after every single relapse. You live it forever. Anorexia runs your life.
So tell me how much you really want to “have” anorexia. You tell me after all that you want to go down that path. Watching your fucking words. I have two people in my life I can depend on. There is only so much. That’s it. That’s what you get.
So tell me again, do you really want that?
As some of my followers know, I have been dealing with the demon of anorexia for a while now. Three years to put that into perspective. If any of you are recovering, or trying to recover, from this illness you can understand how the ups and downs go. At one point I weighed 90 lbs. This went on for two years, with good and bad weeks. I went from a size 12 in jeans to a size 0.
This is me at my lowest weight of about 90 lbs.
This me at 102lbs.
I was actually happy with where I was and I started to eat a little bit more, I thought I deserved that from the extended period of barely eating anything at all. I started eating again (not much but more than I was) and went back to a healthy weight of 120 lbs. For almost a year, I was completely happy! I don’t know how this happened, but it did.
Then senior year things started going downhill for me again. My metabolism slowed waaaaay down and I gained more weight. To others, I was still skinney, but I knew better. I started restricting my calorie intake again.
So where am I now? I’m a runner now. Tonight I just got back from a 5 mile run. As soon as I got back to where I am staying, I stripped off my sweaty running clothes and stepped on the demon of a scale. To my dismay the scale laughed at me….140 lbs?? What the actual fuck??
This is actually a daily occurrence for me. I have been increasing the amount of exercise I do everyday drastically. The amount of muscle I have gained is great, so I have to remember that the number there is telling me part of my muscle gain, but what about the other 20 lbs? This is something that makes me want to spiral down and at least get back to 120 lbs.
I see myself in the mirror and I look at all my imperfections. The fat on my stomach, my thighs, my arms, etc. Every single day I point out of imperfections to myself. I have a hard time wearing shorts, even though this is an important piece of clothing for a runner to wear. And tank tops? Ugh. They suck too. That dreaded armpit area where the tank top stops…I hate this the most. Along with where the bra straps go across your back and form what appears to be rolls. I worry about what others think of me. Do they see my fat thighs? Do they look at me think, wow she could lose a couple pounds? Every time I walk past someone in the store I wonder if they see me that same way I see myself as. Fat.
But I am a runner and you never hear of anorexic runners right? The two do NOT mix well. I have tried running on about 400 calories a week and it’s awful. You can not make it far and if you happen to, the pain in your side is the most painful thing ever. So even though that scale is whispering to me….you’re fat, I have to look away and remember that I am a runner and I lift. So yes, that number will increase. I am not saying I am fully recovered. I have bad weeks and good weeks. I say weeks because thats how things go for me. I have a whole week where I barely eat anything at all. And then I have weeks where food can be my friend. I don’t think one ever recovers from anorexia. I work third shift (10pm-6am) so skipping meals is extremely easy for me. I don’t ever bring food for my break at 3am and when I get back to where I am staying, I fall asleep and sleep through breakfast and lunch. So lately, I have been having a hard time. This is something you always think about in the back of your mind. You know how many calories you’re eating and when. You try your best to ignore it, but it is very hard.
Here is a couple of pictures of where I am now at 140. I dread this weight, but I look healthier at least.
(Added on note November 2016)
(Here is my small rant)
Social media is bringing the emotional state of this world down a cliff.
Your scars, they are not beautiful. They are memories, not a representation of beauty. There seems to be a over romanticization of self-harm lately. I can not stand by and watch it without saying anything anymore. There is nothing pretty about self-harm. There is nothing beautiful about self-harm. Cutting is the physical act of tearing your skin open and making yourself bleed. Does that sound beautiful to you?
Scars can be a important role in remembering where you have been and what you have come from. Now, to clarify, I am not some ignorant girl who doesn’t know what it is like, I have been there. I have been there so many countless times, that I can’t find the beauty in the act or what gets left behind. Yes, I will stare at my forearm and my legs at my faint scars for long periods of time. You know what runs through my mind when I do this? Why was I ever stupid enough to pick up my first blade and do this to myself? Cutting is addicting and once you start, you will never stop. Maybe you can go years without it, but relapse again.
Stop saying your scars are beautiful. They are just a memory. A memory of a time that wasn’t beautiful.