I’m back in the psychosomatic hospital (since Wednesday).
A therapist once told me: “You know, it’s kind of wondrous. Others try to lose weight over and over again, but can’t, and you? You just set your goal and do it. Where do you think is the reason? Where is the difference between you and the others, besides the eating disorder?”
At first I was really stunned and even taken by surprise. What did he want to tell me with that? That I was not a completely hopeless case and had at least enough discipline to starve myself by choice? Yeah, that must be true strength. Therapists like him are also the ones who like to ask you (the girl with the ED) during a therapy session that they are planning on losing some weight for the upcoming bikini season.
Well, back to the topic. Why can some people lose so much weight so easily and others just can’t even after a hundred tries? And why do so many of them have eating disorders? There must be something about it. Some good anorexia tips. Who likes to change his lifestyle, eat healthy and work out? Crash diets and starvation are so much more effective!
Well… The thing is, anorexia and weight loss success don’t have much to do with discipline and willpower. It’s more about the motive (Latin motus = motion, driving). Most of the anorexic girls and women don’t actually want the perfect bikini body the media wants them to have. The motive has a much higher priority. It’s about control, power and the own ideals. But also about fear, austerity and perfectionism. And a lot of other (often unconscious) things like a missing self esteem.
But whatever the motive is, the more priority it’s given, the bigger chance the person has to reach the goals.
We don’t need motivation from the outside, no compliments or insults to strengthen the inner motivation. Who gets demotivated too fast, has too high goals or unrealistic expectations. We don’t consider bad days as relapses. We’re still on the way to the same goal. Every day, good or bad, leads us to where we want to be. And we know we’ll make it. There is no other option, there mustn’t be. Because otherwise we could lose much more than just a damn dress size…
Tomorrow I’ll be in the third month of my pregnancy and I feel fatter than ever before in my whole life. I’m tired, hungry and sick all the time and that’s driving me literally crazy. My belly has already gotten so enormous in my opinion and I can’t stand that. It’s so hard to eat right now. I wanted this summer to be a thin one. I wanted to go back to the state when everyone could clearly see my ribs and I had a lil thigh gap. But now I’ll be the fattest one ever in July. This is so awful. You know, the thing is, I don’t wanna sound like I don’t want my child. I’m really looking forward to having my baby. I’ve never felt happier about something than becoming a mother. I’ll be luckier than ever with my kid. I just wanna skip the pregnancy because that’s killing me. I mean like, if I could say I’m already almost done and there won’t be much time left I think it would be easier, but I still have about six months to go which is half a year. That’s like a lifetime. I mean, I really don’t wanna sound ungrateful… It’s an amazing feeling to have this life growing inside of the own belly and if that was all that’s happening inside of me, I’d be fine, but the problem is that I’m not just growing a baby belly. There’s also a lot of fat. No mother is as skinny as she was before the pregnancy when her child is born, that’s just an illusion created by TV. You don’t just gain a baby, you also gain baby fat and that’s what scared the hell out of me. I don’t wanna gain weight, I wanna lose it! I mean, I can still do that in 2016, but that’s still such a long time to live with… Being fat. I will definitely lose a lot of weight again next year, but without starvation, binging or purging, but I don’t wanna have to wait until then… Can I just skip the stupid pregnancy or at least the weight gain? Can I just have a baby and no unnecessary fat? Please? Damn. I’ll be the happiest mom ever once my baby is born, but I don’t wanna wait until the end of November or the beginning of December (they didn’t calculate the exact date yet)! By the way, I’m hungry again. And feel sick at the same time. My body is spinning like shit right now. Dear baby, can you just keep calm in there and stop creating such a mess inside of me? It’s really hard for me to keep going right now and eat because every time something touches my lips, I get scared and think about throwing it away and starving for the rest of the day. Which I can’t do because the baby’s health is way more important than my stupid disorders and what they want me to do.
This is my whole story.
Shortened, cuz otherwise this would take ages.
I wrote this for some bitch whom I told that I’m suffering from an eating disorder and depression and a few other things she answered something like this: where is your problem? Stop exaggerating. We all diet sometimes and during puberty, everyone has breakdowns and a mood that goes up and down and sometimes even sadness for no reason.
Later I told her about losing my best friend and her answer was: well, everyone dies sooner or later. And by the way, suicide is an act of cowardice anyway. I could also name other things she caricatured, but I guess it’s not necessary cuz you already got the point.
And all that shit coming out of her mouth pissed me off so damn much, but I have manners and higher standards, so I responded this instead of giving her medical definitions she wouldn’t care about anyway:
“Do you know what it’s like when:
– you wake up and want to die
– you slit up your own skin because you think you deserve the pain
– you stick your finger in your throat after every single meal
– you’re scared to leave your bed
– you go to bed and wish you’d never wake up again
– you feel like your skin is burning all the time
– you have nightmares about your future
– you’re rotting from the inside
– all you can think about is death
– you want to kill everyone you love
– you’re scared to even touch food
– you hate every inch of your body
– your body is your worst enemy
– you don’t feel anything at all for weeks expect this endless emptiness
– you don’t even feel physical pain anymore
– you can’t live without pills
– you’re scared to get close but hate being alone
– the most important person in your life dies
– you’re always alone
– no one can help you
– even doctors say it’s hopeless
– you don’t know what happiness feels like
– you feel the urge to kill everyone cuz you think all people are bad
– you can never trust anyone
– all you focus on is trying to numb the pain inside
– the pain is with you all the time
– no matter how good you feel, a part of you always stays dead
– you’d give everything in the world to talk to someone for one last time
– every height, knife or street is a temptation
– you only feel good while hurting others
– you can’t live with yourself
– you feel guilty for every single bite
– you want to punish yourself even though you don’t even have a reason for it
If you don’t, you should better shut the fuck up because you have no idea what you’re actually talking about. And you should be happy about that.
Mental illnesses are demons in your head and they try to kill you every day. Be glad you’re happy and normal, but don’t you dare to stultify people who are suffering from these things.
Sincerely, the ‘stupid little exaggerating girl'”
I know this was sort of exaggerating, but I couldn’t have made my point so clear otherwise.
Christmas days ain’t even over yet and I think I can already state it was horrible. I mean, I’ve already had so much worse Christmas eves when I thought about committing suicide or spent the whole evening being insulted by my father and purging the food my mom had forced me to eat. But this year was awful anyway. I forced myself to smile and repeat that I’m fine and everything’s okay and actually it should have been, but it wasn’t and I just don’t know why! My mom, sis and I are finally able to take care of each other and I’ve never loved them as much as I love them now. My mom believes in me and trusts me and finally accepts me just the way I am, but still… It feels like she’s a stranger. We sat around the tree and got our gifts, but I felt so cold and numb inside. All I feel is this fucking emptiness and the only person who can take it away is my boyfriend who’s not here. It’s like I’m dead inside. I’ve lost myself, drowning in my demons because they know how to swim. And right now I’m crying. Why am I crying? I’m so sick of crying!
I can’t take this. Everything’s overwhelming me. I was not able to eat since the holidays started. I threw it all up again even though I had promised myself to stay strong and stand the urge. My twisted mind was stronger, again. I know it’s not real and just an illusion the ED creates, but I feel like I’ve gained at least 10 pounds and I’m so heavy and fat and chubby and disgusting. Tried to keep telling me I have a normal weight, but I don’t believe it anymore and think about starting to starve all over again. But then every single part of this process recovery comes with is lost and worthless. And that’s what I wanna avoid the most. What the fuck is wrong with me? After years, I finally WANT to get better and healthy and then ‘Ana’ and ‘Mia’ and ‘Cat’ and ‘Sue’ and whatever their shitty cute liar names are are stronger than me?! Today I went through my old stuff today and found my old journals and diaries. I kept them all, in books, USB-sticks, folders and writing pads. I shouldn’t have read them. Now I’m even more depressed than I was before. I’d like to show you some little parts of it to make you be able to understand my thoughts about it. I realized how insane this stuff is, but still a huge part of me believes the stupid words. PS: I didn’t write down any specifical weight numbers because I hate telling them.
This is my first post. For a very long time, I thought about an own blog cuz I thought it would feel good to share my thoughts with the people out there. (And my psychiatrist said it would help me.) So here I go, even with tears in my eyes.
First of all, I wanna tell you something about me. Not things like age and name, I’m talking about the personal stuff. Let’s get started: I moved for 5 times, was bullied for 2 years (age 12-14), have a mom and sis I love and a father I barely know today cuz he’s an asshole, got my eating disorder (anorexia and bulimia which means I either starve or purge all day, that changes time by time) when I was 11 years old and my depression one year later. And then there are also my social anxieties I was diagnosed with at the same age and doctors used to call it social phobia until one of them told me that’s wrong and it’s actually a social disorder. Whatever, docs always change their minds! Also, I have the so called borderline personality disorder and no one knows when it actually came up. To me, it means I can’t really handle feelings. There are overwhelming or they disappear and turn into a horrible emptiness no one can imagine without this syndrome or I just don’t know what these feelings are called. I’m like unable to trust people and afraid of letting them get too close, so I hurt them and push them away so they can’t do it. That’s why I usually stay alone. There are people I love, but I feel like they don’t even know the real me because I can’t show it. I hide behind a wall of lies, act like I have so damn much self-confidence although it never existed in my whole life. I’m a liar, but I can’t help myself cuz I’m way too scared to tell the truth. And because of all this stupid stuff, I started to self harm when I was 12 years old, too and tried a bunch of different ways to do it like burning, cutting, piercing, hitting, slapping and freezing different parts of my body and the oldest scars I have cover my whole legs. I’m glad at least the ones on my arms have disappeared cuz I hate it when I always have to hide them in summer.
What else is crazy about me… I almost forgot my trauma- no, I didn’t forget it, I suppressed and eliminated it. The memories hurt so much. And of course, you want to know what I mean and I’ll tell you because you guys don’t know who I am and I’m anonymous on the Internet. It happened with my first boyfriend when I was 13 years old and because I didn’t tell him my real age, he thought he was allowed to have sex with me. So I lost my virginity and we fucked a couple times and I thought he’d be my one true love (you know, first love is always being overvalued by the teens) until I realized who he really was. An abusive, violent, addicted junkie. Sadly, I noticed it way too late. When he had me, he started to always boss me around and made me feel like his slave. Because of his aggressive behavior I got scared of him and when I said something against him, he hurt me. I didn’t tell anyone (fear!), so I lost control and it had suddenly gotten so far that I did drugs because he wanted me to and had sex with him even when I didn’t want it because when I told him my opinion, he turned from the perfect boyfriend he was in front of others into the fucking asshole. Then there was the day when I finally stood up and defended myself and well… I went through a night I will never forget. He abused me, sexually. Rape. For weeks, my skin felt like it was on fire and I had never hated my body so much before. I felt like I was rotting from the inside. I can’t tell any more details, it’s really private. The only person I ever really told about it died. Also a depressing fact about me. I lost my very best friend. She was the only person that knew everything about me. No one will ever get my whole trust again. I was finally able to completely open my heart and head and… Then she killed herself. Not that I’m mad at her because of it, I know all the reasons. I’m just hurt and disappointed. There will always be something missing in my heart. Emptiness. A piece of me that was ripped apart by this loss. The very best quote I ever heard about this topic was said by Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries):
“When you lose somebody you love, every candle, every prayer is not gonna make up for the fact that the only that you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be. And a rock with a birthday carved into it that I’m pretty sure is wrong. So thanks, friend. Thanks for leaving me here.”
I could never express the feelings better than Damon did in season 4 (watch it, it’s epic).
Because of all this shit, of course I went through a couple therapies. The first one when I was 12, a stupid psychologist who didn’t have a clue. One year later, I attempted suicide for the first time. Tried to throw myself in front of the train. Because of my fear, I had gotten drunk before, so I was so damn stupid to miss the train I wanted to be killed by. Someone in the train saw me and the police found me before the next train could come. (I lived in a cottage, so not many trains passed) I was sent to a locked psychiatric for a whole month and I really wanted to recover. The problem was… They lock you up in there, but don’t cure you. They lie to you and say everything would change. But I never met someone who can say it really worked. This kind of hospital only exists to protect: you from yourself, the world from you or you from the world. The therapies are there to keep you from dark thoughts and boredom. But that’s the fact they don’t tell you in there. Of course I had a bad relapse at home and even attempted suicide again. Deadly drug overdose. You know how easy it was for me to get drugs although the only things I’ve ever been addicted to were cigarettes for 3 years and weed for 4 months. I’m ‘clean’ today. Back to the topic: I didn’t die because I was found by my mom and taken to the hospital by the emergency. I almost died, but barely survived. Today I don’t know if I should be happy or sad about it. Locked psychiatric again, for 3 weeks. Then I was send to an open one. Only difference: school and day-release with other patients depending on how much the doctors think they can trust you. I was allowed to go home after 4 months and yay, had another relapse. I wasn’t stable enough yet and bullied again when I went to another school. But this time, my mom realized my condition before I could try to kill myself again. She noticed it because I was very underweight at that time. The ED made me barely eat and exercise way too often. I spent other 3 months in the same open mental hospital and then people decided to not allow me to go home again. A therapeutical residence or facility, I don’t care how you call it. It was so horrible there and everything was getting worse and worse until even my body almost gave up. I spent some days in a normal hospital because I spit blood all the time and my heart didn’t beat normal. The passing out had already started at the age of 12, but now it was so bad that people noticed something was wrong with my physical health. I couldn’t stand it any longer and told my mom about it because I didn’t want to do another suicide attempt again. Wise choice. We finally found a great hospital, a so called psychosomatic clinic. You know why only this one worked? They have a real therapy concept! You don’t spend your day drawing pictures and making music, you have to cope with your illness! They focus on the reasons why. The disorders are only symptoms for your problems! That’s why their especially for your disorder made therapies work. They know what it is about. And they don’t tell you any lies there. You don’t just get through the stuff in there and then you go home and everything’s fine. NO. That’s not how it works! It’s not like a broken leg. You lay there and wait until the docs have cured it. NO. It’s a very long process and the relapses are part of it.
There is no key to recovery. But this year, I was able to find a way how to get through this without giving up. It’s okay not to be okay as long as you’re not giving up. Yes, I’m scared and I often think about dying and I binge and purge, but I have already gotten so much better! I have a completely normal weight, my body’s fine and today I purge like once or twice a week. I once did it 10 times a day. I also barely self harm, can eat in public, don’t control my weight anymore, can go to school, got my concentration back and I had sex again. Drunk, yeah, to suppress my fear, but I know I’ll soon be able to sleep with my boyfriend without any alcohol. And I’m able to live at home with my mom and my sis. I’ll try to fight, no matter how hard it is because this year, I finally found reasons to live, goals to reach. That’s the most important thing in recovery: a goal.
Although I feel so desperate and empty right now. I’ll just keep going and try to make it through. People don’t want to kill themselves. They only want to kill their pain. Stay strong, guys. Thank you so much for your attention.