The story of my eating disorder
You should always fight a sickness instead of letting it grow …!
Eating fuckorder, hate that fucking shit, but I thought that I would share my story, and how I am experiencing it.
I guess it all started when I was a kid. I would just eat, eat and eat, just to fill the void I guess, I didn’t really have that many friends, didn’t really do anything(other than eating), so yeah there was some kind of void. The school nurse kept telling me that I was too fat and that I needed to loose weight.
My dad kept teeling me that I was fat, that I had manbreast, and forced me to go to the beach and like only wear my swimshorts although I wanted to wear a t shirt to cover up my fat, but I wasn’t allowed. And the worst part is that he then would talk about my body and how I really needed to train, because when people look at me they would think what a looser, we can bet him up.
And then I just kept gaining weight. Trying to ease the pain. Without any luck.
My family have always been troubled, have always had problems. My dad was violent, and loud. My mom didn’t care, as long as he didn’t yelled at her.
Then in 8th grade my big sister ran away, because she had enough, enough of my dad and his violence and loudness, enough of all the insane rules. After this my parents started fighting a lot, and sort of gave up on me and my sister. So I needed to do the grown up things, like grocery shopping, cooking etc. and while I was doing this I lost 50 kg/110 Ibs in like 2 and 1/2 month, I was so skinny, I didn’t eat, exercised a lot, and I felt like I was in control.
My thoughts was all over the place, I would often skip school because I felt fat, often have suicidal thoughts because of the bad consius I would get of eating, and it was just a nightmare. People would tell me I looked good, and I got addicted! Even though that people also would ask me if I was sick, and tell me not to loose any more weight. That was everyone but my family.
Then I went to high school, where I got so stressed, my family was still a mess, and I was still skinny and broken, later on I got so stressed that I started overeating once again, but this time I didn’t gain that much weight because I would throw all of it up, fucking minimum three times per day. Horrible. My thoughts were unbearable, it was like there were two persons inside me, my logic self and my eating disorder, and the eating disorder always won.
The second year of high School I was admitted to the mental hospital, were I went to a group, sort of like an AA meeting, then I got a therapist and then I needed to get checked all the time, because I had ruined my body.
Almost every month there was a fear of getting hospitalized, then it got better, and then it got worse again. And here I am today.
I’m taking a gap year, so I can be more stable when I start at the university next year, but it is so hard, and the progress is so little, but I need to do this.
You wanna gain some kind of control which the eating disorder gives you, and that is how it starts, but after a while you get addicted, you are so scared of getting fat, useless and discusting and that is what being fat feels like for us. You also used the food to compensate for all the bad feelings whether you choose to overeat, starve yourself, or throw up. And we feel like we are in control, but it is a fake control, it is a sickness, the real control would be getting well.
It is 5 years ago I lost all of that weight, 5 years ago that I was told that I have an eating disorder(although I didn’t really believe it back then), and 5 years is a lot. Five years is more than I have known most of my friends. And that’s why it is hard for me to let go, because as much as it has been a pain in the ass, the eating disorder was the only thing that got me through the pain.
Of course a lot of the pain also came from the being gay and unaccepted(but that is another story).
What I didn’t knew back then was that the pain just would get bigger and bigger.
My eating disorder is my best friend but also my worst enemy(cliché I know, but true)
Now I accept that I have a problem, and I know it’s bad for me, and I want to be well again. I need to. But it is damn hard.
Wish me well on this journey, because it needs to happen now, if I ever want to get well. And got luck to you eating disorder victims out there. Remember it’s a sickness, and you always should fight a sickness instead of letting it grow.
All the best