Ups and downs

smoke, boy, and cigarette image

Some things are going really well at the moment. I downloaded an app called ‘Clean Time Counter’ and now know that I haven’t purged in almost 95 hours, which is amazing, and I hope that the app will continue to motivate me to stay strong because I don’t want to have to face the bitter failure, disappointment and embarrassment I will bring upon myself if I have to set the time back again.
So far, it has worked. The pressure is constantly there because nothing else can make me as relaxed and relieved as binging and purging can, but I’m trying my hardest.

Unfortunately, that makes my mood swings worse.
They’ve become a bigger issue over the last few months again and now they’re even worse, and because I can’t talk about them to my family, they assume I’m a moody bitch even though that’s just the only way I can express my moods when I can’t hide them.
But another positive thing is that I haven’t had a panic attack in at least a week, and I’m focusing more on the things that make me happy again. I write stories and play my guitar every day again after I let both these things slip for a very long time, and doing it again makes me feel fulfilled, happy and like I’m good at something.

Furthermore, that also causes my duties to be less important, and I avoid studying as much as possible and often don’t even bother to open the college website to get back to my works for days. And the bigger the gaps between the study sessions become, the more the thought of doing them scares me. When I do things I don’t like very often, they become a part of my daily life I just have to get done (like showering which I despise because of my naked body), but when I avoid them, they fill me with fear again because fears of failures somehow manage to get stronger again in that case.

And if there is something I can’t deal with, then it’s failure. When I’m not capable of fulfilling the expectations I’m holding for myself, the little bit of self-worth I have vanishes completely and is substituted by doubts and hatred.
To keep myself from falling apart, I constantly listen to music, but that’s pretty much the only thing that always holds me together when getting through with my chores.
Of course my son also makes me happy, but because I’m a young single mom, people constantly doubt and criticize me (especially my own mom which really bothers me), and when it’s about my own child, that really upsets me, so being anywhere around other people that might watch me somehow constantly puts some sort of pressure on me.
And it’s rather difficult for me to be genuinely happy when I feel stressed and under so much pressure.

My counselor says I’m making progress and I believe that as well when I look at how insightful, honest, strong and courageous I am, but my mental stability is fragile and can sometimes be wrecked by a triggering advert when I’m about to eat. Not that I’d let people notice, but I’m a mess in my head and often feel overchallenged because of that.
To keep myself up, I focus on my future plans and dreams, positive activities and goals in my life, but I can’t help but suffer from inner breakdowns from time to time causing me to want to cry, rip my lungs out or just stay numb forever.
It’s frustrating how uncertain everything is, and even worse is my still very twisted relationship with both my body and food, and we don’t seem to be able to get along.

It’s all a big chaos inside of me despite looking perfectly fine to those outside of it, and I just want it to be as okay as it seems. I just want to be okay. I just wish it were as easy as talking about it.

If someone offered me a flight to get out and never even come back once, I’d catch it without thinking. This place is hell, and I can’t wait to get everything on my list done and say goodbye, which sadly will still take quite a while. The way everyone judges me and puts me down drives me crazy, but what really bothers me isn’t what they see- I learned not to care about that a long time ago. What wrecks me are the thoughts I create myself.

couple, ian somerhalder, and tumblr image

Where are you?
And I’m so sorry.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight.
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time.

The first relapses of 2017

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Yes, they happened. And yes, I knew that they would. But still, it really, really sucks. I’m not entirely sure why it happened. Maybe I had just been keeping my shit together for too long and had to break down for once. Maybe.
Anyways, it started at the end of last week when the familiar feeling of longing overcame me and I began to miss my best friend again whom I lost in late summer 2012. I don’t know if it’s possible to completely get over the loss of someone close to you, but I know that I never did, so occasionally the pain of losing her hits me really hard and that’s what happened that evening. And when the grief returns, it doesn’t knock at the door and asks if it can come on- it crashes down on me like a wave and takes away my breath. That night, I spent hours on the tiled floor with my hands on my mouth, trying so hard to cry to be able to feel some relief, but all I got was a pain in my chest so intense that it felt like a heart attack. These panic attacks my grief causes have been haunting me for years and I often thought about talking about them to my counselor, but never did and when they stopped at the end of last year, I figured they might be over, but I was obviously wrong and now I’m guessing I really will have to finally talk about them because I can’t take them anymore.

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But, of course, that panic attack wasn’t the end of it, because when I relapse, it’s usually more intense than that.
My best male friend spent a night at my place, we watched AHS when my son was asleep in his bed and drank wine and vodka together. I felt the need to relax for once which is why I drank. And I knew about the consequences. When I drink, I never get sick, slur my words or stumble around like an idiot as long as I’m not extremely intoxicated, but what I do is get really touchy feely.
A while ago, I read that drunk people do things they want to do, but would never dare to actually do sober. And that’s me AF.
I’m a lonely person. I want to be closer to people, open up, talk, share, hug, cuddle, kiss, make out and have sex, but I don’t do any of these things because shutting others out is safer when you’re afraid of getting hurt, trusting too much or have body image issues, and I have all of the above.
But as expected, I threw those morals out the window with the vodka in my veins and my friend and I made out heavily and almost had sex. Almost.
And as expected, I regret it. We’re still friends and at least I don’t think this has damaged our relationship since we’re not into each other and were simply drunk (this happened before a few years ago and didn’t affect our friendship), but it still sucks that I can’t keep my damn hands and vagina to myself when I have guys around that I like and a few too many drinks in my stomach.
Anyways… That whole incident fueled my body image issues and discomfort with myself, so when my team lost the Sunday night football game, I needed some form of outlet for all those unpleasant feelings stored up inside of me to make myself feel better and finally relax.
The problem is: I know what I should have done. I know exactly how to behave in certain situations and how to be safe and protect myself from distorted behaviors, and yet I purposely decided not to do these things and repeat the old sick patterns by binging and purging for the first time after three weeks.
Afterwards, I was definitely able to feel extremely calm and no longer stressed at all because that’s unfortunately the positive effect the ED behaviors have on me (they make me feel safe, calm and secure), but I also felt horribly guilty towards my body and my recovery, and furthermore, the urge to repeat the whole thing has been getting stronger again since that happened.
My body and I are getting along worse every day and the struggle is getting harder, but I can’t slip again. Both last night and today, I’ve been feeling really down, depressed and hopeless again, but I need to keep going to pull through. It’s the only choice I have if I want this year to finally be different than the previous ones. I can’t let all of this shit repeat itself all over again.
Right now, I hate everything around me and myself and the need to get on a plane and never return is stronger than it’s ever been, but that ain’t gonna happen.
I’ll keep going. No matter what. Even though it really fucking sucks right now.

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Now the rain is just
You’re driving me crazy
I’m washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
Keeping an eye on the world
From so many thousands of feet off the ground
I’m over you now
I’m at home in the clouds and towering over your head

Done for you

The best things in life
Come with a price
The star that burned so bright faded the fastest
You’ll always feel it’s right
Even when we end the fight
Welcome home, home tonight

Singing ohhh, ohhh
Welcome home tonight
Ohhh ohh, tonight

Words they don’t know how to make amends
And all they do is push you to the edge
But it’s not wasted

It’s all done for you

Two weeks of the new year have passed so far and I don’t exactly know what I’ve been doing, but I think I’ve been doing quite well. I haven’t binged and purged once, have only smoked two cigarettes, haven’t purposely harmed myself in any way and I haven’t studied, written and read as much as I’d wanted to, but at least I have done it. Pride is something very difficult for me to feel, but at least I know that I have the right to feel it now. Staying strong is difficult. Getting up in the morning is hard and so is getting ready and getting all of my daily tasks done. I feel stuck in my everyday life and believe me, there is nothing I want more than getting out of here and never return, but I’m making it through step by step, day by day. Eating is hard, smiling is hard, leaving the house and telling people I’m fine is too, but I never back down and that’s what matters the most.

The moments when I feel like falling, the nights when I lie awake struggling to breathe and the emotional breakdowns I suffer from silently all pass and I move on from them. I don’t know if this is what you can call recovery because I still beat myself up emotionally every day by feeding doubts and hatred about myself and my body, but at least I know that I’m making progress. The steps are small and every one of them is harder than I admit, but I make them. Often I feel like wanting to cry and never stop, but I don’t. Sometimes I want to talk about it, but I don’t. Keeping these moments of weakness to myself hurts me, but I don’t trust anyone enough to share them.

My life is valuable: My body is recovering from the pain I inflicted on it for several years, my grades are great, my son is the most beautiful living being in this world to me, my family is here with me, I have very few, but lovely friends, never money, but only because I always spend it, and as far as I can remember, I’ve never felt as good as I do right now, but what I can’t really speak out loud is that I still feel pretty awful most of the time and like I’m on the edge to crumbling completely. But I don’t. And that’s what I need to focus on.

As hard as it is, the Tumblr quotes are right: The storm will pass, things will get better, it’s not the end and it will be worth it at some point because I am worth it. The journey to get there is just much more exhausting than people admit.

My thoughts are still very twisted, many of my behaviors influenced by my still present mental disorders and I’m not leading the life I want, but I’ll get it one day if I keep going and don’t give up on my dreams.

Most of the people around me don’t know what I’m struggling with because it looks like I’ve completely recovered on the outside and don’t think I’ll make my plans reality either because that’s just ‘a phase all kids go through’, but even though it’s hard to distance myself from the things here that harm me emotionally (and there are a whole lot of them), the way I deal with all this is satisfying.

No matter what anyone including the voices in my head say, I’ll get what I want. I’ll get my degree and my carreer, my tattoos and my clothes, my apartment, driver license, dog and car, be a good mom, make it out of here with my son, leave this horrible small town life and small town world and never come back. I’ll leave everything behind without even looking once. And most importantly: I’ll be healthy and happy.

It’s all still very far away from me at the moment and that’s what makes it so difficult to hold on to, but I’ll pull through.

No matter what anyone says. This life will belong to me and only me and I’ll make it what I want it to be for me and my child, regardless of other opinions.

I’ll free myself from this cage. I just need to continue to keep my shit together and move forward until then, no matter what it takes and how tiring it will certainly be.

Time, strength, determination and willpower. These are the things I need for 2017.

Dear eating disorder

I’m writing this to let you know how I feel and why I am no longer able and willing to trust you.
Your one and only goal has always been to destroy me, and I unfortunately didn’t realize that until you had almost succeeded. I wish I could say that it will be easy to let go of you after everything you’ve done to me, but it won’t because as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me still loves you despite the awful things you put me through.
But the problem is that, while ruining me, you also give me something nobody else can provide me. The safety and security I feel when I’m with you cannot be compared to the feelings I have when I’m with other people. You make me feel like I am not a lost case and that there’s still hope left, that following your advice will give me what I’ve always wanted. But this is the point where things don’t work out anymore: Listening to you has never solved any of my problems and just added new ones.
You recognized all of my doubts and insecurities the second you laid eyes on me and knew exactly how to make them your weapons, especially in terms of my perfectionism and body.
Being the best liar I’ve ever witnessed, you lured me into your trap, promising me everything I’ve ever wanted if I’d be willing to make some sacrifices. What you didn’t tell me was that the sacrifices wouldn’t just be some discipline, guilt and willpower, but my entire life. Saying this, I’m sure you’ll defend yourself and state I must be confused and therefore simply exaggerating, but deep down we both know which one of us is speaking the truth this time. I’ve told many lies over the last few years with you in my life, so many that I went through times when I started to believe them myself, but this time, I can see through your games and tell things as they are.
To make you a part of my life and get what you tempted me with, I had to push away everyone I had once cared about, give up on my health, let go of my sanity and devote my entire existence to letting you tear me down.
And guess what?
You never even kept your part of the deal.
Instead of giving me the perfect skinny body my insecure inner self with its twisted mind had always dreamed of to finally be appreciated, you turned mine into a wreck.
Instead of making me someone strong, disciplined and determined, you made me obsessed with thoughts so repulsive I’d rather not even name them.
Instead of giving me perfection (both inside and outside), you attempted to kill me.
And nothing you say can ever make up for that.
Our relationship was never real.
You never gave a damn about me.
I gave you way too many second chances because I put my faith in you and was loyal, sick and naive enough to believe you’d actually help me, but every time I let you guide me, I came one step closer to my own death.
This letter could continue for many hours and I could tell you so many things I have on my mind when thinking about you (especially negative, but actually even a few positive ones because no matter how sick, you always made me feel safe), but where would that get us? How would my rant help either of us?
It wouldn’t. This is all that matters, all I need to say.
I don’t care what you think about it. You’ll think that it’s not over yet and I’m just having another one of my doubtful phases when I try to distance myself from you but end up crawling to you again, desperate for your self-proclaimed ‘support’, but this time, it’s different. Say whatever you want. I know I’m not rid of you just yet and it’ll take a lot more time to let go after all these years we spent together in our own world, but I’m starting to leave right here and right now.
We’re not done yet, but we certainly will be, becauase this year is the year I’m actually starting to fight you and don’t just pretend to make others happy and keep myself delusional.
Say whatever you want; I know you think you’re smarter than me anyways. But I’ve seen every single one of your tricks and know them good enough to be able to recognize them before I fall for them.
You’re disgusting and the only one worthless here, and I guarantee you’ll miss me once you realize I won’t come back for you.
This is my the beginning of the end of the two of us and there is no turning back. It’s far too late for that and you know who’s to blame for what happened.
Keep my smile in mind because you’ll never get to see it again.

Stuck

You’re stuck in the moment
When you thought you were rolling
But you can’t move on
You feel like you’re able
To live past the moment
You can’t move on

I’m currently debating whether I should continue my therapy because I’m beginning to feel like there’s no point in spending so much money for it at the moment. I’m stuck. Totally. I know it, my disorders know it, my recovery knows it, my counselor knows it. And the worst part? I know exactly what’s going on, and yet I’m unable to change the situation despite being the only one who can.
As usual, the problem is my overwhelming fear of leaving my comfort zone and changing something- anything. Being constantly afraid of making things worse doesn’t make recovery a very pleasant process and it looks like I’ve reached a point where I can’t go further without being taken down by my fear.
The situation is pretty much beyond remedy: I’m in the unidentifiable zone between real recovery and a real relapse where I adapt to sick behaviors on a daily basis, but realize that they’re sick and keep them under control and only act them out in a certain way without letting things slip and legitimately harming me or someone else. I’m not sick, but I’m not healthy either.
I eat, but I feel extremely guilty, I bake, but without sugar, I cook, but without oil, I eat candy, but only dark chocolate and DIY stuff (my counselor made me eat normal vegan cookies from the store yesterday and it was awful), I tell people that I’m not perfectly fine, but not how much everything stresses me, I don’t harm my body in any way, but I hate it with all of my heart.
Get my point?
I always manage to have things under control to be able to keep going without having someone notice or getting hurt in the process, but I’m not happy with the way things are.
I don’t even know what I want anymore. Sure, the long-term aims in my life are clear, but what do I want to reach with what I’m doing here and now knowing that it’s not what I actually want or need? And, more importantly, how am I planning to carry on in the future? Will I continue to live like this?
The one and only person who can change something about this is me, that’s something I realized over the years.
But I refuse to because the idea of letting go of the patterns I’ve been holding on to for such an incredibly long time frightens me. When saying that I don’t remember being satisfied and happy with my achievements and appearance, I’m not exaggerating. The thought of not being good enough has manifested so deeply that I’ve adapted to the self-proclaimed ‘fact’ that there is no way to ever change something about it, and distancing myself from this concept would turn everything upside down. Over the years, you unfortunately start to identify yourself with your disordered thoughts. Who and what am I without them? Can I risk pushing them away? Will I be left with nothing? Will I be nothing? Lose control, become invisible, gain weight, fail everything?
I don’t know. And as unrealistically as all of my fears are, they’re there and because they won’t go away, I won’t change. I’ve settled in my own little hell and as crazy as it sounds, it’s gotten quite comfortable with time because I’ve gotten so used to it.
Do I enjoy living like this?
Hell no.
Am I willing to change?
Unfortunately, no.
Because there is nothing scarier than the unknown.
So I’m stuck here, unknowing what to do with myself and my life, trying to make it through without losing myself in this chaos I’ve created. I can’t even tell anyone about this because it’s just beyond ridiculous and stupid. I could choose happiness and yet I choose to suffer because I’m a scaredy-cat. My obsession with a non-existent perfection has made me end up here, and I don’t even know where here is.
Am I giving up? Is that what I’m doing? I don’t think so. I mean, I am keeping my shit together, aren’t I? Hell, I just want to get away from everything here if I’m honest.

Take me away
Let’s get out of this town
Run, baby, run
We’re unstoppable now

grunge, night, and run image

The sick pressure in the sick mind

Okay, so I gotta write down my thoughts right now cause I’m driving crazy.

I have this extremely strong urge to freaking purge everything out of my stomach right now, and it makes me so stressed and anxious because it doesn’t make any damn sense. I mean, yeah, I ate a hell lot. And yeah, I feel really full and bloated and fat and stretched and whatever right now. And yeah, my body is digesting. And yeah, I hate myself for it because it terrifies me. But the thing is: Despite having had a small binge, everything I ate were safe foods. Unsweetened soy yogurt, 1/2 avocado with chili, a banana, 2 clementines, some zucchini and tomatoes with pure herbs and some nuts. Oh, and a bite from smoked tofu and some wheat free pizza crust.
It was a hell lot and I regret that I was so weak, but it was all ALLOWED.
No forbidden foods. At all.
Yet all I feel is this strong sense of hatred, guilt and the unstoppable wanting to puke my god damn guts out until I see blood, my tummy hurts, my hands are bruised, nose running, eyes red and I can finally feel the wonderful relief of the emptiness inside. But I can’t do it even though I want to. Even though the eating disorder makes me believe I should and that it would be the right thing.
Even though I feel fat, disgusting and weak. I need to stay strong because I can’t lose this fight again. I don’t want anything more than to raid all the cupboards, eat all the candy, drink some soda and spend half an hour bending in front of the toilet. It’s pathetic, stupid, sick and useless, and yet I want it more than anything and feel awful for not doing it. It’s like I can feel my stomach expanding and my body getting fatter, and only writing this already makes me feel more repulsed by myself than words could describe. I’m such a stupid, fat, disgusting loser. No strength, no discipline, no success.
It’s wrong to think like this.
But I can’t stop it.
I don’t want to stop it.
It’s the only safety I have in my mind.
If the self-hatred is gone, I don’t know what’s left.
It’s all I remember feeling in terms of myself.

I hate all of this so much.

But I can’t lose. I can’t. I was there before. It could kill me this time and I can’t risk that.

Isn’t it sad that women have fought so long and hard for our rights and equality, and now all our attention is put on being a size zero?

Control

So… My eating disorder has kind of taken over again. I wish I could say I stopped it before it happened, but I obviously didn’t. Food possesses my almost every waking thought and I’ve gone back to getting tensed and nervous around it. Everything consumed makes me feel guilty, I need to write down everything except water and despite my attempts to simply live healthy, it’s getting harder to draw the line between that and my disordered behavior every day. All I can think about is the sick wanting to lose weight and be thinner than I’ve ever been, but I don’t want to devote my life to and sacrifice my health for it either. I’ve been there and it almost got me killed.
So what am I gonna do?

fat and society image

I try my best to stay on track, but I think I’m starting to lose control again.
Starvation is fortunately not an option, but claiming that my behavior around food is normal would be a lie as well.
Food is my one and only thing that makes me feel in control and not completely lost, so it gives me a sick form of safety I need to not feel completely lost. And, most importantly, the eating disorder is the only thing that makes me hate my body at least a little less and deal with my distorted body image a little better because I know that I’ll lose weight by listening to its words.
I need something to focus on when everything else slips out of my hands.
This shit has been on my mind for more than half a decade now, and the only time I could let go was when my body kept my son alive during the pregnancy and breastfeeding, but now that it belongs to me again, I feel the mad need to destroy it all over again.
I have dreams, plans and reasons to stay alive today (unlike a few years ago), but the problem is that being skinny is a part of every single one of them.
The healthy part of my brain has grown big enough to be able to convince be that these thoughts are nothing but invalid ridiculous crap, but it’s absolutely impossible to let go of them regardless.

I want to go out and attend concerts or parties again, but I need to be thin to wear a sexy outfit.
I want to graduate, but I need to be thin to wear a robe when I receive my certification.
I want my own apartment, but I need to be thin to allow myself to have food there.
I want to go to college, but I need to be thin to find friends there.
I want to get a good job, but I need to be thin to succeed there.
I want to be in a relationship again, but I need to be thin to be able to show my naked body to another person again.
I want to be a good mom for my child, but I need to be thin to be a good role model.

Isn’t that pathetic?
My weight doesn’t have anything to do with these goals.
I’m driving myself crazy and can’t really focus on anything anymore for absolutely stupid reasons. My eating disorder is maddening and deranging me so bad that I’ve been neglecting my friends, family and duties again because I frantically run around wondering whether I’ll eat or skip the next meal.
Control.
That’s all it’s about when I feel lost inside myself.
I just wish there was a normal way for me to achieve it because I don’t want to live like this again.
But I don’t have a choice anymore because I’ve already made one and it will make me go down again.
Strength, willpower and determination- those once were the things I was proudest of in terms of my personality, and now I’m throwing it all away to feed a disease. The probably saddest thing is that I now even realize what I’m doing to myself and no longer deny anything when I look into the mirror, but somehow this realization can’t stop me from my road to a huge relapse.

author, writing, and authors image

Pretending everything is right
To make it better
I’ll hide my makeup smeared eyes
To show that I try

Glamorization of mental illnesses

Yeah, I’m fully aware that about a thousand people have already made their rants about this topic, but I really don’t care. It’s tragic that we spent years trying to raise awareness for these disorders and now we have the attention we needed and instead of realizing how serious this issue is, (especially young) people suddenly think it’s something you should be happy to suffer from. Isn’t the word ILLNESS enough to understand that it’s not something you should want? Obviously not. Somehow, stupid kids think that’s it’s cool, glamorous or special to suffer from disorders. How can you be SO blind?

A few examples…

anorexia, ana, and anorexic image

I really can’t believe my eyes when reading this. Whoever wrote this admitted that it’s a disease and explained that it can’t not be beautiful to suffer from it. Right. So just because someone suffers from cancer doesn’t mean they that tumors aren’t cool, right? Is it inappropriate to make this analogy? Probably. But is it appropriate to state that starving yourself to death for a distorted body image is beautiful? No. Anorexic people destroy their bodies systematically for an illusion in their heads that isn’t, has never been and will never be real and there is absolutely nothing beautiful about sacrificing your entire life to become a walking skeleton you won’t even see in the mirror. And believe me, they don’t think that’s beautiful either. And you know why? Because anorexia is a disorder.

But there’s another great thing: Merchandise.

Really, Urban Outfitters? Is suffering from an illness that makes people take their own lives so great that you need to print it on a shirt?

And another reason why I love this store… Isn’t it bad enough that this model looks like she’ll be admitted to the hospital tomorrow? Do you also need to make her wear the statement?

And how about this beautiful necklace that’s been tagged with being ‘pastel’ and ‘grunge’? Yeah, it’s so great to feel like hiding in your room for your entire life because even the smallest social interactions terrify you.

Mental Illness T-Shirt

Don’t we ALL love it when something invisible destroys our lives every day?

It might not be Christmas yet, but didn’t Target sell a nice holiday sweater last year? Why shouldn’t we joke about the constant checking, repeating, cleaning and obsessing? Cause, you know, it’s funny.

But unfortuely, this is not where the glamorization ends. The Internet is the best source for it:

skinny, thin, and fasting image

Maybe we’ll see how many hearts it takes to starve to death!

grunge

How much we all love insomnia. 

thinspo, text, and thin image

Never give up until you’re either dead or chained to the hospital bed!

skinny, thin, and thinspo image

(on the road to destruction)

acid

We’re SO cool.

girl, skinny, and thinspo image

Who cares you’re dying as long as your bones are showing?

quote

(yay, we’re sick!)

I can’t even put it into words what I think about such pictures. They make me speechless and that’s rather rare for me. It’s just… Why? Why is this considered desirable to be mentally sick? Why do they think sicknesses are worth striving for? What is wrong with this world and this generation?

Things nobody tells you about mental disorders

Today’s pop culture has created a certain image of the life with mental disorders, but there are many parts all those books, movies and songs never mention, things even people with the illnesses often don’t even realize.

1. Choosing recovery
Yes, recovery is a choice everyone can make, but people always make it look like you do that once and for all and then there might be this or the other relapse and then you’re on a rollercoaster that only goes up, right? Well, that’s not how it works. Recovery is not something you decide for once, but every day. And that’s what makes it so hard. Every time you’re being confronted with the triggers of your disorder, you need to make the choice again. Will I choose the easy way and just give in to the voice in my head or will I do the right and hard thing and fight it? You know that giving in will give make you feel relaxed, comfortable and peaceful for a while (unlike fighting it which will make you feel stressed and anxious), but you also know that it will destroy you. That’s why you chose recovery in the first place. You don’t want the disorder to destroy you. But it’s so much easier, isn’t it? For instance, one of my biggest triggers is food and I need to make the choice to either starve, binge, purge or eat healthy and normal every single day and it doesn’t get easier. Not at all.

fight

2. How hard the simplest things can be

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One example: summer. It’s July, really hot and sunny, and everyone I know loves spending their spare time swimming, tanning and relaxing at the lake. Well, everyone but me. I love swimming and spending time with my friends and family, but besides the fact that I hate the heat, tanning and sunshine in general, short clothes make me feel nothing but terrible. I hate my body. The stretch marks, the weight, the scars… I can’t wear anything that shows more than my arms and decollete, and therefore shorts or, even worse, bikinis, are absolutely impossible. Sucks. And the hardest part will be our vacation at the end of the summer which will be, yay, in Italy. One of the most beautiful countries in the world, but also one of the countries where you can’t wear jeans in August, especially not at the beach or pool. Thanks, eating disorder. Everyone is excited about their vacation and I’m scared as hell.

3. The magical cure named counseling
Isn’t it what everyone expects? You show up for your appointments, cooperate, do what the therapist wants and then you’re automatically better because, you know, that person has studied this and is getting a shit load of money for treating you. But unfortunately, that’s not how it works either. Yes, counseling will help you, but it will not cure you. Regardless of how much time you spend with your therapist, you still need to work on yourself even more. Those people can only listen to your problems, give you advice and make you realize what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, but they can’t solve anything. Unfortunately, the only one who can save you is you.

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4. How hard living with such a disorder is
Mental illnesses don’t take breaks. They don’t show up and disappear when it’s convenient. They’re always there, every second, every minute, every hour, every day, and it never ends. Why don’t people realize that there’s nothing harder than fighting a war inside your own head all the time?

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5. No, just because I’m fine doesn’t mean I’ll always be

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Yeah, there are good days, but there are also bad ones. I might be okay today, but I’ll probably break down tomorrow because one good day doesn’t mean that everything is over and will always be awesome. That’s not how it works. That’s not how easy it is.

6. That there’s nothing romantic, beautiful or glamorous about it

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Depression is not sitting on the rooftop at night with a cigarette Lana Del Rey songs. It’s lying in your bed at the middle of the night wondering how long you’ll be able to handle feeling so frozen inside, like there’s nothing left of you.

Anorexia is not a skinny pretty girl refusing a piece of cake for her bikini body. It’s a voice in your head that makes you feel like you will never be good enough until you’ve starved yourself to death.

Anxiety is not burying your face in your lover’s chest being told that everything will be okay. It’s a constant terrifying fear that makes even the smallest things impossible to handle.

Oh, and then there are those people who post their self harm wounds because the blood is so inspiring and beautiful and whatever.

Like, seriously?

Why the fucking hell do people think it’s cool or special to suffer from a disorder? What. Is. Wrong. With. You?

It’s not beautiful

I’m struggling with my weight again. Well, ‘again’ is actually wrong because I’ve never stopped struggling with it. My pregnancy got me some more pounds and now I’m clearly not obese or something, but I’m just not skinny anymore. My stomach isn’t flat anymore, regardless of my position, and my thighs always touch, no matter how I stand or sit. And there’s fat where it’s not supposed to be. I actually wanted to lose the weight, but turns out I don’t have any time for sports (finishing school as a single mom is much more stressful than I expected it to be- not that I’m overchallenged or something, I’m doing a great job- but I just don’t have any time left for anything) and I can’t change my diet. Restricting or controlling how or what I eat (I mean, I already do that by living vegan, but that’s because of ethical reasons and has got nothing to do with any weight loss strategies) would bring the eating disorder back immediately and I cannot let that happen.
But the thing is: the thoughts are there. I would never admit it by speaking it out loud, but it’s true. The voice is back and forces me to consider my options, tries to convince me my current weight makes me a fat, lazy and worthless failure, tells me how useless I am. I ignore it, but it can’t ignore the pictures the voice brings back into my mind: the pictures of all those skinny girls and women.
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They’re thin as fuck, have those thigh gaps and visible rib cages and collar bones and hip bones and all that crap. And I hate myself for deep down, secretly wanting to be like them all over again. I mean, what’s the freaking point? They’re not even pretty! Thank god the healthy part is nowadays much bigger than the sick part in my head and makes me realize that. Bones are not beautiful. Walking skeletons are not beautiful. Girls that look like they’re about to fall apart, break down or collapse are not beautiful. Women whose bodies don’t have anything ladylike and feminine are not beautiful.
And you know what’s not beautiful either? Dying.
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Because that’s what eating disorders cause: sickness and death. Been there, done that. Those bodies look sick and desperate and not pretty at all. Those girls need a good therapy and not a freaking catwalk. What the hell is wrong with this society that it glorifies disorders? Even though everyone says showing starving girls is inappropriate, Size Zero is everywhere and the media keeps telling us we need to look like that to be beautiful. catwalk, gif, and Gisele Bundchen image
That’s the trick: They tell you to be yourself and that everyone is beautiful in their own unique way and then they judge you and tell you how you have to be and act and look to be pretty, famous, rich and successful because those are the most important things in life.
Be yourself- as long as you like what everyone else likes. And you’re beautiful the way you are- as long as your belly is flat and your legs thin. Girls are not supposed to be too girly because that would make them basic bitches or something, but they’re not supposed to be too boyish either because that makes them tomboys and unattractive. They gotta be chill, but not too chill, and look natural, but not show any flaws, and eat burgers and fries, but keep their small sizes. Of course girls are not the only ones forced to fit with that type, but I am a girl, so I know pretty much about girls. Why do we advertise sicknesses instead of helping people recover from those sicknesses? How twisted is that?
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And don’t tell me people get the help because outside hospitals and therapies, they don’t. Ever seen the movie (or read the book) ‘It’s Kind Of A Funny Story’? Emma Roberts totally proved how cool mental disorders are in that one. And damn, how cool teenage suicide and nuthouses are! But don’t you dare let that kind of stuff happen to you in real life. It’s cool and funny- as long as it doesn’t happen to you. Because if it does, they’ll run away. Because they can’t handle it. But it’s cool, right? Cancer also seems to be such a popular topic in teenage books and movies (and I’m not just talking about ‘The Fault In Our Stars’- which is great though, but I don’t read a lot of teen stuff) and everyone feels so sorry for those poor people- as long as those poor people don’t cross their ways in real life. We all feel so sorry for all the lost souls, but we don’t do anything to help them anyway. We say we don’t know what to do, but we actually don’t even wanna know.