I feel like I just need to talk. Whether this will turn out to be a huge rambling mess or something a little more coherent, I have no idea, but I just need to talk.
As you may or may not know, I’ve struggled with my mental health for quite a while, and my ED has officially been added to the list. I’m not here to glamourize it either, because it’s honestly so fucking shit.
For as long as I can remember I’ve been so obsessed with looking and feeling skinny. I’ve never had a BMI above the ideal range, but I’ve never felt ideal.
Throughout my late teen years, it really started to become a problem. I felt so out of control of everything that was going on in my life, and eating, or not eating, gave me something to focus on. Controlling what I could/ couldn’t eat made me feel like I’d taken some power back, and it was just an escapist mechanism that I’d use when things were particularly shitty.
This went on for a few years, but started to spiral during my second year of uni. I felt lost and confused and just so so shit. I began to experience severe suicidal thoughts and urges, and I began to self harm. My eating deteriorated, but I tried to hide it, because I was so terrified of the reactions and the worry it would cause for my friends and family. My weight started to decrease, but I still wasn’t happy with my reflection in the mirror. I’d achieve the targets I’d set for myself, but it was never ever good enough. I’m now the clothing size I wanted to be, but I’ve never been more miserable.
Right now, I’m in my third year, and this eating thing is worse than ever. I’m still partly in denial that it’s even a thing, because it’s terrifying, but my doctor is finally aware of it, and hopefully she can help. Currently, I’ve dropped a dress size, and I’m eating a meal/ under 500 calories per day. But what’s really ridiculous, it that typing that out doesn’t feel ridiculous, 500 calories seems to me like far too much, when in reality, I know it’s far too little.
I think that’s probably the most frustrating thing: I know it’s illogical and ridiculous and I know nobody really cares about the number on the scales, but I can’t stop. As much as I try and convince myself that it’s just this thing I do to help me cope, I haven’t eaten 3 meals/day for months and the thought repulses me. I feel completely sick if my stomach is anything other than empty, and the thought of eating too much or gaining weight genuinely terrifies me. At first I thought this was just a weird little coping quirk that I could just turn off when I wanted to or when things got better. But I can’t. Things haven’t got better, and I can’t just turn all these thoughts off, because trust me, I’ve tried.
It really fucking sucks to feel completely at the mercy of your own mind, like you have absolutely no control over your own actions. It’s also pretty shit to completely despise the skin you have to walk around in.
I know the recovery process is going to be difficult, and right now, I’m not even excited for the prospect of the end result, because it doesn’t seem worth it, nothing does. I’m so done with all the noise in my head, and I really wish it would just quieten down for a little while.