The hell called summer vacation

My mom, sister, son and I arrived in Italy on Saturday and will be here until the beginning of September. We’ve been to this country many times before because it’s one of the most beautiful ones in this world with its landscapes, language, architecture, history, people, food and culture, but there is this one little huge issue: It’s a summer vacation and summer vacations and I have had a little problem with each other in the last few years. Since my eating disorder started about six years ago, I’ve had huge body image issues and of course, they’re worst when you’re spending your summer vacation because that’s where you’re continuously confronted with bikinis, pools, beaches, heat, sunshine and short clothes which are all torturous things for people like me who can’t look at their bodies in a healthy way and have a rather disturbed image of them. For a long time, I struggled with choosing between staying at home with my son or going on this trip, but in the end I decided to come along because I thought I could handle it and really love Italy and my family. But I was wrong and overestimated myself. 

I can’t handle it.

At all.


I’m totally fine with our nice apartment and shopping trips and visiting cities and strolling around discovering new things in a foreign country, but this whole thing with the clothes and the sunbathing and swimming is killing me inside. I’m trying my hardest, but there’s no way I can do this. I went swimming once because I really love to swim, but wearing a bikini almost made me cry the whole time. It’s so pathetic, isn’t it? I don’t have the right to complain. I’m here at this beautiful place with my beautiful family on my son’s first vacation in his so far short life he seems to really enjoy and I’m constantly depressed. I smile and pretend I’m fine hiding in my room whenever my family goes to the beach or pool, but it’s all a big fat lie. I can’t stand it here.

I’m such an ungrateful weak little bitch. Others never get the chance to spend such a great vacation at a place like this and instead of enjoying it, I can’t handle my stupid sick thoughts that make me hate myself 24/7. The fact that I hate myself this much somehow makes me hate myself even more.

I hate myself because I thought I’d be strong, but I’m obviously not, and because I have a perfectly fine body and feel utterly disgusted by every single inch of it. 


And most of all, I hate myself because I’m ruining everything for everyone, again.

With my stupid sick thoughts caused by stupid disorders in my head I can’t get rid of.

Is this a part of recovery or a relapse? Because I can’t seem to see the difference anymore. All I want to do is leave right now, but there’s no way I can afford the flights for my son and me and my mom won’t leave with us until the scheduled departure in two weeks. And I definitely won’t ruin my family’s entire vacation by making them leave earlier.

So what will I do? Suck it up? I guess I don’t have another choice.

I’ll survive it, right? That’s all that matters. I can cry when nobody’s looking. 

I never thought this would be so unbearable, though. Hell, I’m so stupid. 

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