FightingAgainstAnorexia

Status:
Joined: July 12, 2011
Last Seen: 9 years
user id: 193995
Gender: F




Pocrescophobia: Fear of Gaining Weight

After four years of starving and over exercising, needles and feeding tubes, terror and anger, medical crises and personal failure, loss after loss. After
all this, I’m only 15 years old. I was staring down a path of a shortened life expectancy, but I was fine with that because I still had this: I was thin. I
was 5’6 and 73 pounds; 73 pounds too much. I wasn’t satisfied, I was never going to be satisfied. People would say “you’re too thin,” but that’s
what I liked; my bones, the empty stomach, the excessive exercising. I was sick, I was weak, and I was admitted to a hospital. After being hospitalized
for five months, I was sent to a treatment center where I’ve been for almost two years. On July 15th, 2009, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa.



However, along with anorexia, came self harm. I'm not sure why I did it. Maybe because I couldn't cope with everything that was going on inside of
me. Maybe because I thought it was my only way out. Maybe because that was the only thing that kept me from killing myself. I don't know. I
don't expect you to understand, I don't even understand. Many people say that self harm doesn't hurt, but really it does. It's just not as bad as the
pain you're feeling on the inside. Many people also don't understand why someone would purposely hurt themselves. And well, it's hard to
explain. There are many types of self harm: cutting, burning, scratching, biting, and so much more. I've done them all. There was a time when I
wouldn't wear shorts, tank tops, t-shirts, or even a swim suit. I eventually did again and I would notice people looking at me. You know, staring at
my arms, my legs, and my stomach. I was addicted by that point, so I didn't mind. I used to be really self conscious about my scars though, but
luckily for me most have faded.

 

 

Atelophobia : Fear of Imperfection

Over the past few years, everything in my life has changed. I've lost myself and who I was. Most people close to me have left, including my best
friend. My family has been slowly falling apart. I haven't been able to go to school for two years. But through all this, I've actually re-found
myself. I finally realized that I didn't want to kill myself. I wanted a life. A healthy life. A life where I could be trusted. A life where I could be a
normal teenage girl. A life where I could eat things without feeling guilty. That is when I finally started to really fight and really try to become better.
Not for anyone else, but for myself. I'm starting to like living. I try to follow my meal plan, I don't self harm, and I try not to over exercise. I'm still
in treatment and although some days are by far harder than others, I've finally reached the point where I've realized that I can't live with anorexia
the rest of my life. Either I beat anorexia or anorexia beats me. For what it's worth I'm Callie, I'm 15 years old, and I am much happier than I have
been for the past four years.


"Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night
when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for
eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story."

 

Quite a few people have asked about my story.
Why I became anorexic, where it all started, and where I'm at now.
It's long, I'm shortening it, and I'm not forcing you to read it.


I don't remember a time when I wasn't insecure, self conscious, or having a high self esteem. It's just the way I've always been, probably the way I'll always be. Anyway, everything was normal. I was a normal girl, just like you. I had friends, I didn't care about much. Things suddenly changed. I didn't like eating in front of people. I stopped eating lunch at school. My friends would ask why I didn't eat. I would just tell them that I already ate (lies) or that I wasn't hungry (lies). I didn't see anything wrong with lying and I certainly didn't see anything wrong with not eating. I then got to the point where I wasn't hungry anymore and people stopped asking why I wasn't eating because it became "normal" for me. Soon after that, I stopped eating breakfast and dinner. I'd only eat dinner if we were having a family dinner, which was usually only on Sundays. Otherwise, I would tell my parents the same lies I told my friends. My life was a constant lie. I told lie after lie to both my parents and my friends, yet they all believed it. On a "good" day, I would eat less than 500 calories. On a "bad" day, I would eat no more than 700. I would exercise six hours a day, mainly at night or in the early morning so no one would be suspicious. If I ever ate more than 700 calories, I'd throw up even after exercising. I had no energy. When I wasn't exercising, I was sleeping. I had lost most of my friends, but it honestly didn't matter to me. Only one thing mattered to me and that was the number on the scale. I then became depressed and I started to self harm, everyday. One day, I told my best friend everything. She told my parents, but my parents shrugged it off because I told them that I was getting better and that it wasn't a big deal. I acted like I was getting better, it must have been believable. Nothing I did was good enough for myself. One night while exercising, I passed out. My parents found me and I was rushed to the hospital. I had a BMI of 11.8 (5'6, 73 pounds) and my organs were failing. I was told that if I had lost anymore weight, I would have been close to death (not that I cared, I already knew that.) I was then fed through a feeding tube for five months at the hospital. I was so sick. From there, I became an inpatient at my treatment center. Meaning, I lived there. My family could only visit me during visiting hours. I wasn't allowed to do anything because everything requires physical activity. They took away anything that could be used to self harm. I was supposed to eat 6 meals a day, but I refused each meal and continued to lose weight. So, I was put back on a feeding tube for a month. After that, I decided that I would do what they asked me to do just so I would be allowed to become a day patient and be at home so I could go back to my old ways (not eating, exercising, self harming, etc.) I had no intention of doing things right. I did that three times. Inpatient, day patient, and again back to inpatient. Three times. The third time I was allowed home, I attempted suicide by taking 20 pills. I collapsed to the ground and I was again rushed to the hospital. Then I became an inpatient again, fourth time. Currently, I'm a day patient.I relapsed. As of September 12th, I'm an inpatient again (fifth time.) I'm no longer a part of any treatment program at the moment. However, I was admitted to a psychiatric inpatient unit in Texas in the beginning of February. As of right now, things are going better than they ever have been for me. Anorexia is not who I am and I plan to continue moving forward instead of back for the first time in awhile. Although I don't like the way I look and I'm no where near close to loving my body, I have learned to accept it. I've realized that there are so many things that you take for granted until they're taken away from you. I don't expect any of you to think differently, I even took it for granted. Like lifting your head. Sounds odd, right? When I was at my sickest, I could barely lift my head in the morning. Or going to the bathroom without having someone stand outside to monitor you, being able to do physical activity, going to school (I wasn't able to go to school for more than two years, this year was my first year), being able to be with your family, being able to eat without worrying about calories, being able to be alone. I still want to be thin like I used to be, I still have eating disorder thoughts, and there's always that voice in my head that tells me to stop eating and to start over exercising again. Physically, I'm the healthiest I've been in awhile, although mentally it's still a constant struggle between what I want for myself and what I know I need for myself. I hope I can someday say "yes, I beat anorexia." We'll see. I hope that anyone who actually reads all this realizes that you can do anything no matter the circumstance. If you ever need to talk or have questions, feel free to ask... just please don't judge me.
 

Low weight: 73   Current weight: Not entirely sure, around 121?   Goal weight: 130 :)   Height: 5'8.5
 

"Asking for help isn't weak, it's wise." - Rev Run


 

Quotes by FightingAgainstAnorexia

I hate myself because you have made me hate myself. I starve myself because I've been called names. I self harm because I don't feel good enough. I purge because I've been called fat. My body is more scarred than unscarred. I have been hospitalized more times than I can count on two hands. I've been to treatment, therapy, and psychiatric hospitals. I've attempted suicide more than once. I would rather die than wake up to live another day. I hate who I am for things I can't control. I would rather be anybody else.I hate myself because you have made me hate myself. I starve myself because I've been called names. I self harm because I don't feel good enough. I purge because I've been called fat. My body is more scarred than unscarred. I have been hospitalized more times than I can count on two hands. I've been to treatment, therapy, and psychiatric hospitals. I've attempted suicide more than once. I would rather die than wake up to live another day. I hate who I am for things I can't control. I would rather be anybody else. I hate myself because you have made me hate myself. I starve myself because I've been called names. I self harm because I don't feel good enough. I purge because I've been called fat. My body is more scarred than unscarred. I have been hospitalized more times than I can count on two hands. I've been to treatment, therapy, and psychiatric hospitals. I've attempted suicide more than once. I would rather die than wake up to live another day. I hate who I am for things I can't control. I would rather be anybody else.

 






IS IT STILL FUNNY TO BULLY ME?

 

 








WHEN DID LIFE GET SO HARD?

 



ONCE UPON A TIME
people actually believed the story would end with a "happily ever after."



I DON'T THINK THE
"WEIGHT LOSS TIPS" ON WITTY ARE RIGHT.

I know most of them are healthy ways to lose weight, but unhealthy people may use them in unhealthy ways. I come to witty for an escape. An escape from everything my life is and has been for the past four years. I don't want to come on witty and see top quotes on ways to lose weight when I've been dealing with anorexia for four years and spending the last two years trying to gain weight in treatment and recovery. If someone wants to lose weight, they can research ways to do so themselves. I find it quite triggering to come to Witty, somewhere I come to get away from my life, and be reminded of ways to lose weight when I've been trying so hard to free myself from this disease. I know some of you are going to say "well, don't use them then." But it doesn't exactly work like that. Did I choose to have anorexia? No. Am I going to willingly choose to use those tips? No. The thing is, I don't choose. My mind does and that is something I can't control. It's a mental disease and being reminded of ways to lose weight makes it quite difficult. I know I'm going to get "hate," so if you disagree then you disagree. But until you've gone through what I have, you'll never understand.

I’m not skinny. I’m not fat. I’m not hungry. I’m not full. I’m not pretty. I’m not ugly. I’m not funny. I’m not boring. I’m not smart. I’m not dumb. I’m not worthless. I’m not perfect. I’m not the best. I’m not the worst. I’m not content. I’m not not okay. I’m not helpless. I’m not self-sufficient. I’m not surrounded by many people. I’m not alone. I’m not wanted. I’m not unwanted. I’m not all smiles. I’m not all tears. I don’t have a purpose to live. I don’t have a reason to leave. I’m not worthy of love. I’m not deserving of hate. I’m not the strongest person. I’m not the weakest person. I’m not ready to live. I’m not ready to leave this world behind. I’m not moving forward. I’m not moving back. I’m not skinny. I’m not fat. I’m not hungry. I’m not full. I’m not pretty. I’m not ugly. I’m not funny. I’m not boring. I’m not smart. I’m not dumb. I’m not worthless. I’m not perfect. I’m not the best. I’m not the worst. I’m not content. I’m not not okay. I’m not helpless. I’m not self-sufficient. I’m not surrounded by many people. I’m not alone. I’m not wanted. I’m not unwanted. I’m not all smiles. I’m not all tears. I don’t have a purpose to live. I don’t have a reason to leave. I’m not worthy of love. I’m not deserving of hate. I’m not the strongest person. I’m not the weakest person. I’m not ready to live. I’m not ready to leave this world behind. I’m not moving forward. I’m not moving back. I’m not skinny. I’m not fat. I’m not hungry. I’m not full. I’m not pretty. I’m not ugly. I’m not funny. I’m not boring. I’m not smart. I’m not dumb. I’m not worthless. I’m not perfect. I’m not the best. I’m not the worst. I’m not content. I’m not not okay. I’m not helpless. I’m not self-sufficient. I’m not surrounded by many people. I’m not alone. I’m not wanted. I’m not unwanted. I’m not all smiles. I’m not all tears. I don’t have a purpose to live. I don’t have a reason to leave. I’m not worthy of love. I’m not deserving of hate. I’m not the strongest person. I’m not the weakest person. I’m not ready to live. I’m not ready to leave this world behind. I’m not moving forward. I’m not moving back. I’m not skinny. I’m not fat. I’m not hungry. I’m not full. I’m not pretty. I’m not ugly. I’m not funny. I’m not boring. I’m not smart. I’m not dumb. I’m not worthless. I’m not perfect. I’m not the best. I’m not the worst. I’m not content. I’m not not okay. I’m not helpless. I’m not self-sufficient. I’m not surrounded by many people. I’m not alone. I’m not wanted. I’m not unwanted. I’m not all smiles. I’m not all tears. I don’t have a purpose to live. I don’t have a reason to leave. I’m not worthy of love. I’m not deserving of hate. I'm just me and

 






I'm just sad.

 

 







TODAY IS MY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY.

One year ago today, I was an inpatient at treatment for what ended up being the fourth of my five times. Last year for my birthday, I wished I were dead. Last year on my birthday, I made a goal that as soon as I finished inpatient, I would be back to 73 pounds by May 17th, 2012 (if I was even still alive.) Right now, I am 127 pounds and I could not be happier. I can’t even imagine what my life would be if I hadn’t chosen recovery. Would I even be alive right now? I am so thankful to be here alive, breathing, and celebrating my sixteenth birthday when I didn't even plan to make it this far. I spend so much time thinking about how horrible my life really is. But do I really have it that bad? I have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. I have a family who loves me and provides for me. I have a best friend who takes care of me, loves and supports me, and would give absolutely anything for me. (Hi Breanne. :) <3 )  I’m safe, I’m healthy, and I’m not dying. 

 

This year, I have another wish. Two actually. I wish that I never again find myself back where I was. And then I wish that YOU always find a reason to live. Whoever you are and whatever you’re going through, fight through it, fight for it, or fight against it. Whichever it is, don’t give up. Because remember:
 

when things are bad, they don't stay that way.

 



DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT SUCKS?

Having to take a pill everyday so your heart won’t fail because of the damage you’ve caused yourself. Having to take another pill everyday to determine your happiness. Having to take another five pills everyday to keep you sane, to keep you alive, to give you a “normal” life. It sucks to wake up everyday and see a worthless, useless person looking back at you in the mirror. It sucks to finally go to school for the first year in over two years just to find that kids are just as mean as they were two years ago. It sucks to be made fun of. To be called stupid, annoying, and fat day after day just because people know it will hurt you. It sucks to not know what is going to happen the next day. Will something finally push you over the edge? It sucks to hide the cuts, the bruises, the scars, the tears. But what sucks the most? Forcing a smile all the time so people don’t ask what’s wrong, but inside all you want is for it all to be over.

 

YEAH, THAT'S WHAT SUCKS.

 



Confidence is silent.
INSECURITIES ARE LOUD.



NEVER IGNORE A CRY FOR HELP
because it might just be their final plea.

 



WE SPEND ALL DAY HIDING HOW WE FEEL,
but then at night wonder why no one notices.