TONI'S STORY: "I AM FIGHTING THIS BATTLE ON MY OWN...I AM TRYING TO LIVE."

"Dear Medusa,

My name is Toni. It was only a month ago that I realised something was off; that what I was doing wasn't smart.

I've been teased and bullied in school since my first day at primary because I was different. I had a bully teacher in year 2 and only two friends who sometimes deserted me. But I managed to cope and developed nothing more than anxiety.

I was pushed over the edge into depression when I had my heart broken just over three years ago. For two years I built negative habits such as avoiding school, lashing out, locking myself in my room, and keeping everything bottled up.

I had never thought I was pretty; I'd been told daily that I was ugly every day at school, and I believed it. But it wasn't until year 9 / age 13 that I started to think I was overweight. I hated mirrors; every time I looked in them I saw fat. Even so, I didn't do anything about it.

I had become a very lazy, unfit person over the past few years, but I weighed no more than the average girl my age and height.

It was last year that I began to skip meals and throw food out at school. I'd give my lunch to my friends or the bin, but I was still eating breakfast and dinner - until I was taken to a psychologist for my depression and anxiety, which at this point had resulted in self-harming (cutting) myself weekly and suicidal thoughts. Not long after, I was booked in to see a psychiatrist and was then prescribed Fluoxetine (anti-depressant/anti-anxiety).

The medication worked for the most part. I stopped cutting and attended school more frequently. But my appetite dropped dramatically, until I didn't feel like I could eat breakfast, more often than not I didn't eat lunch, and then I'd only eat half my dinner. So my mum bought me Complan (food supplement milkshake) to make up for it.

I haven't been on Fluoxetine for three months now, but I've been eating even less. Most day's I've been having nothing but half my dinner, because I want to be thin; I want to be beautiful. For the past two months I've developed anorexia (I have not yet lost much weight due to my mum keeping me on Complan) but day after day I restrict my food intake and have 2 exercise routines: daily and nightly.

Last month, I realised I was being stupid. I'd been visiting my dad at the time, and one night he made me all of a very fattening dinner. That night, during my shower, I made myself throw up for the first time. The experience shook me and I began to research it and figure I fit the symptoms of anorexia.

Yet, despite this realisation, I still fight every day to NOT eat, to the point where a week ago I almost passed out.

I am fighting this battle on my own; I have told no one, but I thought that my story might help inspire others to fight it as I am. I've gone in alone and am trying to get Ana out of my life. I am trying to live.

From Toni."

Link to photo:
Sticks and Stones...

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DALAL'S STORY: "HERE I AM - A BLACK GIRL WHO CREATED A LIFE TO HIDE THE FACT THAT SHE HATES HER BODY."

 "Dear Medusa,

Hey I love your website. I'm sure you have a bunch of people emailing you but my story is the same and it's different. I live in a country where people love their bodies a lot, except for me. Eating disorders in my country are a "white-girl-on-lifetime-movies" kinda problem. As a result, I have never sought help. My dentist thinks I eat too much candy. I have hardly any teeth. I'm thirty and have been bulimic since I was ten.

I am a bodybuilder, fitness athlete... I became that because it is a legitimate excuse to get my body down to 8% body fat and lower. I hate myself so much sometimes. I have attempted suicide lots but haven't quite figured it out (LOL). Maybe someone out there feels like I do. Feels ugly and stupid and stuck and no one to relate to because eating disorders aren't talked about in their country. Maybe they feel crazy like I do. I don't know.

Here's my story. And my pictures. I don't mind my face going up. Just not my name.

'Dalal the black bodybuilder.

I made a career around food...went to school, studied and built a hobby around an obsession. As I type I am chewing slowly on ten slices of bread and butter, knowing that before I finish typing I will force everything up with the back end of a toothbrush. I was going to binge on peanut brittle, but with only one tooth on the upper right side of my mouth, chewing nutty hard things has become something of a problem.

My name is Dalal. Of course not, but I like how the name sounds… beautiful, foreign and exotic. I have worked hard to become all of those things, except deep inside I am really just a nappy haired black girl with bad skin and crooked teeth.

On the outside I am everything healthy - nutritionist, fitness competitor, super trainer, super athlete, super super super. Long haired, clear skinned, false and capped teeth gleaming as I tell people what they should eat and how they should train. I smile and tell them not to drink, not to smoke, not to do drugs when some nights I smoke an entire joint just to be able to stand myself. Oh yeah...and there is this thing about a binge-purge habit I have had since I was ten. 

All irrelevant. In four months' time I will be on stage, competing at 8% body fat displaying deeply tanned muscles for the world to ogle at...a seemingly emphatic picture of health and feminine strength; none of which exist inside of me.

I am trying to type how I feel but it’s hard. The words are easy to say...I have bulimia. It’s out of control. I suffer from depression. Yet all these words are devoid of everything but the trembling vocal chords in which to speak them. They don’t really paint a picture of how gorged you feel as you waddle to the toilet bowl to cleanse yourself of sins (father forgive me, it has been two hours since my last confession). They don’t really speak of how you eat something safe and healthy, then swallow a whole cake on top of it (Stupid stupid stupid) and then have to throw everything up and start from scratch…. How much money is spent on foods that you just throw up and dentists that think you just eat too much candy and well, just privacy to confess to the porcelain bowl-gods in peace. 

Oh yeah, and that black girls don’t make themselves throw up. Only white girls do. Well. Here I am - a black girl who created a life to hide the fact that she hates her body - a black girl who can hide behind the fact that black girls don’t do that stuff and who doesn’t know where to go for help other than some random website that made her cry as she read the stories and said to herself...that’s me. That’s me."

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MRIANA'S STORY: "I TOOK CONTROL OF MY LIFE, REFUSING TO LET ANYONE ELSE DO IT FOR ME."

I was diagnosed with Anorexia when I was 11 years. I would not eat and was 4' 8", weighing in at 40 lbs. When I was 15 or 16 years old I had a brief stint with ipecac, even though I never had the massive binges of a Bulimic, but the ipecac almost killed me because that stuff is actually a poison. I would eat half a quart of ice cream and panic, but I could not force myself to puke without something like ipecac. I also did the laxatives for years longer. At 20 I nearly killed myself with an overdose of diet pills. I took them so I would not eat. I spent years weighing myself several times a day, with no remission in symptoms or anorexic behaviours.

At 23, I was 4' 11" 90 lbs, married, and pregnant. BTW, my mother was 4' 11" too by the time she was grown, but has since shrunk and my father was 5' 3". So I didn't stunt my growth. I come from a short family. I'm also proud to say my son was born very healthy, made 9s on the Apgar. Both my sons did, even though there were times as they got older that my thinness scared them. I just would not eat more often than not, but I was off the diet pills, laxatives, etc. After my second time of almost dying, I just went with not eating, living on cappuccinos and alike.

Anyway, yes, I was sexually abused by my father, came from a controlling family background, bad marriage as an adult, divorce, etc etc. I also have the Dx of depression and PTSD. The usual stuff, but I've had a lot of therapy and changed a lot of things in my life, esp. after my first divorce. I took control of my life without relying on any crutches (like counting calories, weighing) or anything else. I put the numbers aside, basically taking everything I was taught in therapy and alike and putting it into practice. Doing it myself, instead of someone else doing it for me. I also successfully raised two sons by myself, without help from their father. So I had a lot to giving me the drive to live and survive too.

I am now 44 years old and I woke up, maybe three or four years ago (around 40 y.o.), one day and realized I had not weighed myself in ages, without panicking due to not knowing. I was tempted, but didn't weigh. I went in for a physical, weighed in at 100 lbs (still 4' 11"), my blood work was normal (something it had not been in years)- cholesterol normal, b.p. low normal, but normal, all the numbers were in normal range. My doctor said, "You look good. How are you doing it?" I just am. I really don't know how I did it, but it wasn't Holy Unction, prayer, divine intervention or anything like that. I did it myself.

I took control of my life, refusing to let anyone else do it for me. I have control over everything concerning my body and life, including what I eat or not eat. I eat chocolate. I still carry the Dx of depression and PTSD, but my eating disorder isn't as much of a concern to my physician. I still have moments where I look in the mirror and feel like I look fat, sometimes I even "feel fat", but it isn't a constant thing and I have control- not the eating disorder, the depression, or even another human. I eat almost everything except meat (lifelong [lactose] vegetarian). I drink milk, eat cheese, yogurt, nuts, beans, rice, the typical vegetarian diet, with sweets occasionally. I eat like a normal human being.

I'll be 45 y.o. in May with two grown sons and no, the pictures on your website did not trigger anything in me, except sadness and empathy for these women. They don't have to die though. They can live normal, fulfilling lives, but they have to work at getting better. It doesn't happen overnight, there are some ups and downs, but I really believe the key is taking control of your own life, every aspect of it, thinking for yourself, and making choices for yourself. Of course, the first step is overcoming the fear of food and getting fat, but it can be done. For the last few years, I've been between 95 and 105 lbs at every dr.'s visit.

So people can recover from Anorexia. It is possible, but I think it also depends on the type of eating disorder they have. I think mine was related to the depression, PTSD, etc and actually not the typical eating disorder. Once my depression was alleviated and the PTSD well on its way to being treated, I think my eating disorder naturally followed. However, it doesn't matter how long one has suffered with it, I truly believe once they gain the desire to overcome it and take charge, they can do it, but they have to get serious about therapy, medication, if necessary, treatment, and putting it into practice.

Anyway, that's my story, albeit condensed, and I want to thank you for making a website that shows the horrors, even deadly horrors of eating disorders. I only hope it helps someone and not causes more problems.

Mriana 

Link to photo:  
http://www.eatingdisorderhope.com/eating-disorder-specialist-new-dawn.html 

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DO YOU LIVE IN THE LOS ANGELES AREA?? IS YOUR FAMILY IN CRISIS? DR. TARA FIELDS CAN HELP...

(Click to enlarge)

LICENSED FAMILY THERAPIST, TARA FIELDS,

(AS SEEN ON “OPRAH,” “DR. PHIL” AND “CNN”)

WANTS TO HELP YOUR FAMILY!

Is your family in crises struggling with addictions, eating disorders,

obesity, infidelity, control issues, marital problems, bullying, blended family stress, toxic in-laws, job loss, depression, anger management or any other issues that you need help with?

Are you desperate for help but don’t know where to turn?

Licensed Family Therapist, Dr. Tara Fields can help!!!

World-renowned family therapist, Tara Fields has made a difference on “Hoarders” and “Intervention” but now YOUR FAMILY can have the chance to work one-on-one with her!  This exciting new one-hour unscripted TV series will delve into the lives of families in crisis.  Tara Fields will work with families to uncover what their real issues are and then help them to overcome them, making the families whole again.  

If you - or anyone you know - are in need of help and live in the Los Angeles area, contact us today!   Families who appear on the show will receive free family therapy and a financial honorarium as a thank-you for their time commitment.   We also offer a referral fee if you refer a family who appears on the show!

We look forward to hearing from you!

Amy Thomas

Casting Associate Producer

IshTVCasting.Amy@gmail.com

*Please be sure to include a description of your family and the issues you’re dealing with, along with a recent photo.   Couples must have children over the age of 10 and be open to discuss and work through their challenges on camera.

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VAL'S STORY: "I WAS NEVER DIAGNOSED WITH DEPRESSION OR BIPOLAR BUT I KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG."

“Like many others, I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe because I want someone to read, someone to know and understand what I did throughout my life. Why I did it and to help encourage people to get help, the help they need and deserve. This is going to be long, maybe not as long as I thought but long enough. And I’ll apologize for that, because I know you get sent lots of things. I love your blog and it has inspired me to give you mine as well.

My name is Val, I’m 21 years old and I love reading about other people. I love reading in general. I was never diagnosed with depression or bipolar but I know something is wrong. Especially when you want nothing more than to waste away and die. My story is not as heart wrenching as many... tragic enough, none the less

First of all, I’d like to say I am so heartbroken for everyone out there with a mental illness. I myself do not suffer from anorexia or bulimia, maybe I am starting there because I’m starting to poke at my fat, and I know I’m fat. I’m supposed to be 120 lbs but I am 147. I LOVE food. But I could never ever bring myself to purge it back up or to starve... simply because I grew up with a father that cooked great and ate even better. We were taught not to care too much about what others say or call you. But it’s hard... it’s so so hard when you do not like what you look at in the mirror.

I wish everyone the best, for treatment and recovery.

My sister started beating me when I was a child, maybe because she was mad that mom left us, maybe she thought it was her fault. No matter what it was, her anger always ALWAYS went towards me. She called me fat when I ate, so I started eating by myself and over eating at night.....I was up to 160 (I was almost more than my father) but I found comfort in food, it didn’t call me names, it didn’t make me hurt. It made me feel good and feel full. Whereas, I felt empty. 24/7. Forget about feeling lonely, because I thought I was better off alone. I never ever felt lonely.

The abuse had a lot to do with everything. Not to mention I felt extremely abandoned by my mother who left when I was just a year old. I tried putting my stepmother (god bless her beautiful soul) in her shoes and called her mother but she wouldn’t let me because "you only have one mother" please too, everyone, please please remember that. My mother was a manic depressant, she suffered from bipolar. Maybe because of the alcoholism, maybe... just maybe, the coke she could not let go of.

I always hated drugs, cigarettes and even alcohol. Simply because I watched everyone throw their lives away for it. My uncle who is dying because he couldn’t stop drinking...rather, he didn’t want to. It took his wife and 3 of his kids to leave. And now he’s stopped, he’s still dying. I couldn’t do that to myself, I have animals... beautiful nieces and nephews. And that’s the only thing that keeps me from blowing my head in on the wall behind me.

Until I turned 12..... I started smoking cigarettes. Then alcohol (god I loved that so much) I still smoke to this day (9 years) 13 came around, I really disliked my mother. Mainly because she left me, I felt like she didn’t want me. That she wanted the drugs, the booze more. I needed something.... I didn’t realize this at such an age, but I did, I wanted to get away from it all. I drank a whole bottle of Bacardi gold that night, was falling all over the place... but I loved the feeling. I really liked getting drunk.

14 came, virginity gone. I didn’t realize how wrong it felt until he got on me, and personally, it hurt, it felt wrong. He left me after abandonment. Another love lost...marijuana. That made me happy, like... ahh, I'm out of my right mind. That’s all I wanted, that’s it, to be out of my right mind. To be numb to all the pain... I still do. When I was 15, I was drinking heavily, eating too much and smoking waaay too much. Mainly alcohol, mainly.... until my mother hung herself a few days shy of her 40th birthday.

What a suckin year! By this time, I was taking ecstasy, oxycontin, alcohol, happy pills, pain pills. God I partied so hard, I loved it. I didn’t pay nothing because my friend was 'with' the dealer so he gave me some too, on request of my friend, his friend whatever. Drugs, all the E I wanted, was right in front of me, like a dispenser, waiting to be sniffed... just waiting, to be put up my nose so I could once again be out of my right mind.

My dad didn’t know what was going on. He thought I was just going over to see my sisters and nephew. But it wasn’t, had nothing to do with that. I wanted to get all sorts of messed up, all sorts... and so I did.

Until almost a year later, I realized what it was doing to my body. One day I could not get any, due to the guy finally got caught and jailed. I was shaking, sweating, paranoid... my body hurt. I wouldn’t eat, I was not hungry. All I wanted was another E pill. So I took my sisters oxycontin and sniffed 3-5 80's that night. Really, the first didn’t do anything, so I did another and another... up my nose they went.

All this time I was juggling this and stress at home, without a woman around and dad working, he needed someone to take care of the animals, turn on the pellet stove, clean, cook etc. I was watching my sister waste away. She was not eating, it took me a while to understand why she thought she was fat and how she got down to 86 pounds (can anyone tell me how? I think I know but I don’t want to believe that my sister had that kind of problem). This sister isn’t the one that beat me, she used to fight with the one that did. She was my saviour and it hurt me so so much to watch her be like that. She got into drugs too and to this day she still struggles with drug addiction.

I reached my 16th birthday and discovered cutting... it was like art to me, watching blood spatter and make a mess, and yes, I liked cleaning my own blood up too. I still struggle with this, as I love to inflict pain on myself. Even a split in my lip,I’ll split it again after just to feel it crack back open. To taste that blood is to taste the warm part of me. Because my heart is blocked by stone, and is very very cold.

Medusa, I am happy to tell you that I no longer struggle with drugs, but depression is an everyday struggle. I don’t want to take pills because I’m REALLY scared it will make it worse. And to the point where I won’t even care if others care if I do die. I don’t believe mine is as deep as others, as I could not bring myself to off myself. I couldn’t do that to my father. I want to die... trust me, I do but I remind myself of my dad, the only parent I have left. My cats (all 3 of them) and my dog. My nieces and nephews that need me. my brothers and sister (that seems to be dying in front of me and claims she’s not on it any more)

Mostly why I am writing this is because I need people to know you can’t let something go and expect it to get better. Mental illnesses do not go away, they get worse. That nagging voice will never shut up unless you make it. Get help... and please, if you think of dying, think of all the people and even your animals that love and need you. Even though our parents are plain rotten sometimes, they should be talked to too. And brought to a conscious level that something is wrong with their child.

Happy holidays every one, God bless everyone’s soul, I really really really wish you the best.

With best and warm regards

~Val”

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CHLOE'S STORY: "MY TWIN SISTER DEVELOPED BULIMIA WHEN SHE WAS 13 YEARS OLD. I AM ANOREXIC."

My story is nothing compared to all of the others stories I have read on your blog.

I feel that I’m not even a proper anorexic.

Well, I guess I will start where it all began.

I am 17 years old. I live in Australia. I have a twin sister. I am anorexic.

When I was 12 years old, my 6 foot 8 dad was in a parachuting accident in the army. As he jumped out of the plane, he collided with another man and fell 80 feet to the ground. He landed on his feet and his whole body just crushed. He broke nearly every bone in his body, was in hospital for 7 months straight on his back. It was an accident he should not have survived.

Since then he has been in and out of hospital for physical and mental health. He has post traumatic stress disorder from war, and is very mentally unwell. He has tried to commit suicide several times. Also has left my family for other women a few times too. One time he overdosed and no one knew that he was collapsed in his room at his army base. My friend walked in after he had been missing for hours; he said my dad only just lived. Had he gotten to my dad any later, he would be dead.

My dad was medically discharged from work at the age of 40. I don’t blame him for any of this as mental illness can completely change who you are.

After my dad got sick, I had to play the other parent role. This included cooking, cleaning, helping with home work, and shutting my little sisters off in a room and turning the music up loud so they could not hear my parents fighting and things being thrown around the house.

Then my twin sister developed bulimia when she was 13 years old. Eating disorders at this stage were very new to me. I had no idea why she would do this to herself. Her bulimia did not start as 'I am so fat' thoughts but it was just merely a coping mechanism, to cope with all the stress and traumatic events we had been through. She had no idea why she did it, and was scared.

My dad and twin sister got more and more unwell. I began to fall. I was always so strong, and was always the mature, responsible one. I kept saying to my mum, I need to get out of this house, I can sense that something bad is going to happen. And she was just like stop being stupid, our life is perfect. I kept crying to myself as I knew something bad was coming my way.

The next Christmas I was 14 and mum sent me and my twin sister to go stay with my grandparents in Queensland. While we were in QLD, my twin got very depressed and had self-harmed with cuts all up her arm. Self-harming was all new to me as well. One day my grandma decided to take us shopping. My twin refused to come. While we were out, I got a text from a friend saying hurry before it’s too late, so I got my grandma to drive me back to her house straight away, to walk into my sister with a huge kitchen knife, crying in her room. I was shocked and upset.

When we got home after our trip to QLD mum said to me wow (year 10) everyone kept saying 'oh you’re so skinny', you look so thin. For some reason this made me so happy. That afternoon, I walked up to the mirror in my room and looked in the mirror. I could see all my rib bones, my spine, my collar bone. My legs were tiny and did not touch, my stomach was flat!! I thought wow I am so skinny. I then weighed myself for the first time.

So I continued in constantly checking my body every single day, from every single angle. I loved being told I was skinny. It was music to my ears. So I noticed that I was not eating much at all. Which I eventually got used to. I was playing netball and soccer 4 times a week and going for a run nearly every day. That year went on and I continued to stay quite thin.

Throughout that year, my family problems got worse. My parents separated for the 5th time, and I had witnessed a lot of angry behaviour from my dad, such as throwing objects, yelling and screaming. My dad thankfully would never lay a finger on any of us. My twin sister got worse with her bulimia and was binging and purging a lot.

The following year, I had this dream every night for 2 weeks that I woke up in a psychiatric hospital. It disturbed me so much and made me depressed. I told my mum about it and she said just to ignore it. 2 months later, I got so sick that I could not even get out of bed. I was emaciated, pale, and weak.

My mum called a psychologist in Sydney straight away and I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and the next week I was admitted into an eating disorder unit. This hospital did nothing for me. I was in there for 6 weeks. As soon as I was discharged, I relapsed straight away and lost 6kg in one week. I always was getting dizzy and almost fainting. At this time I had been with my boyfriend for 6 months. He was always so supportive. That year continued with me not eating very much, if anything at all. I always looked in the mirror and just cried as I was so so fat.

That year my sister's bulimia worsened, and she developed an abusive behaviour. This involved her physically hurting my mum or me. I would have to stand between her and my mum so she could stop hurting and hitting/kicking/punching/throwing objects at my mum. At the same time, I also had to put my two younger sisters in a room and turn music up so they could not be exposed to this disturbing behaviour. I ended up with bruises and scratches all the time. We usually had to call the police and ambulance to come and calm her down. It was so upsetting to see my beautiful twin sister so sick, and mentally unwell. She was purging 15 plus times a day. She was so unwell. Yet mum still would not put her in hospital.

I developed self-harming and got extremely depressed. I continued to lose weight and be depressed. I still had my amazing boyfriend to look after me. I have since then been in hospital another 3 times. I feel so fat and disgusting. I am too embarrassed to leave the house. I constantly weigh myself and check my body. We now have an AVO against my dad as he is too sick to be around us. I have not seen him in 2 months. There is so much information I have left out, as my life story is a long one.

I am still anorexic and extremely depressed. I feel I have never succeeded in being a proper anorexic. I am looking at another admission in the next few weeks. I feel so weak and tired, and yesterday I fainted at work. I feel so alone. But I want to get better. I have been with my amazing boyfriend for 21 months. I could not have made it this far without him. He is my everything.

I feel so alone. Your blog has helped me a lot. Helped me not feel so alone.

I hope my story can help.

xxx

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NATALIA'S STORY: "I HAVE EVERYTHING AND I STILL FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO BE THIN TO BE LOVED."

"Hello Medusa.

First I would like to thank you for your blog. It has kept me from falling deeper into the abyss of eating disorders. Thank you so much for your work and sharing our stories. You help us getting through this. Also, I would like to apologize for my English. It's not my mother language and it's not very good... I'll try to do my best with it. I won't send you a picture of me... because... I'm a coward and I'm paranoid someone will find out my secret. I hope nevertheless that you will read my story. I really need to share it.

I do, however, have a blog I'd like to show you. It's mostly in Spanish, but it has some posts in English. Its address is http://namelesshumanoid.blogspot.com. That blog, which I named "I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all" as a sign of wanting to feel and live in spite of my pain, is the only place where I can write down all the things I can't tell the people I know. Writing is my therapy, the only escape I have from my crazy mind. Writing is the only thing I'm good at. Writing is my life.

This is... so damn hard to write. Because, I don't have the typical ED story. I have never been diagnosed with anything. Nobody suspects anything. I'm not even underweight, or at least not visibly underweight. I don't even know if I'm anorectic or bulimic or EDNOS or what... I just know this cannot be normal. I know I have a problem, and I know I have to admit it, get help.

But I can't.

My blogger nickname is Yanagi. Yanagi means willow in Japanese. And my name is Natalia. I've always wanted to be as strong as a willow is. I'm Colombian and I'm sixteen years old. I have this issues since I was fourteen, but their evil seed has always been on me.

I've never been the kind of person who likes to be helped. I like to do everything on my own. And do it perfectly. I hate criticism and I hate failing. I can't stand it. I've always wanted to be recognized for something, but all I achieve is a fake reflection of what I really am.

Maybe I have lost any idea of who I am. Ana and Mia stole it from me.

This comes from my family. My mom had anorexia when people didn't even care what anorexia was. She is slightly shorter than I am (I'm 5'6 and she's 5'5) and she got to weigh 90 pounds when she was my age. She didn't eat or sleep and she had lots of problems with my grandmother. One night she fainted. The doctor told her that either she ate or quit school. She picked eating. But even now she doesn't have a healthy relationship with food and body image. Her weight is stable around 110, but she thinks she's fat. She loves seeing me get thinner, and always congratulates me when I do. My sister has gastric problems, so the highest weight she has attained is 108. She's so skinny and has always made me feel so fat in comparison! And my grandmother is always checking if I eat or not and what I eat. She has made food something incredibly important for me.

I've always felt fat and ugly. I was very unpopular when I was younger. My sister and my aunt always told me I was chubby and needed to lose weight. Now I look at pictures and I know I wasn't that chubby! Not every 10 years old is as slim as a stick! I just happened to be kind of short and have a tummy. The girls in my school were not kinder. They called me "the ugliest girl in the classroom" and "chihuahua dog". They showed their prepubescent flat tummies at each other and I felt so fat. Their mothers took them to gyms. They went to parties. Boys liked them. They wore fashionable clothing. They had many friends. And I was always this nerdy fat lonely weirdo who liked reading and heavy metal.

Then I went through puberty. I got a lot taller. And went from weighing under 110 to weighing over 130. I didn't freak out, but I didn't like my weight. I always lied saying it was lower than it really was. I started loathing everything about me. My hair, long and messy as it was. My nose. My skin and its pimples. My wide hips. My tummy. My thighs. My arms. My nails. My big, rat-like, teeth. I was depressed because of many things that happened to me during that time, like my parents' divorce. I started cutting myself. I wanted to die. I cut my arms, legs and even my lips. I cried and cried... but I never asked for help.

I survived pretty well that depression, though. But then something worse happened: I discovered pro ana sites. I accidentally started reading one of them, as I've been a blogger for a very long time. First I hated those blogs, I was horrified and considered pro ana girls stupid. But... My curiosity increased. I created a blog, just to check what their world was like. I had a need to belong somewhere, too.

But.... I was such a fool. I never imagined how weak I was and how easy it was for me to fall.

I looked at this girls' photos and thinspiration. I decided that it was true I was fat. And I didn't want to have an eating disorder, I just thought that this... pro ana advice.... could help me to look fit and lose a few pounds. Such a fool! Me! The smart girl who would never do shallow dumb things like getting an ED.

Somewhere, somehow, I lost it. I lost control.

I'm not underweight. I'm almost underweight, I'm 106 pounds. But I hate food. I've barely eaten this week. Sometimes I binge. And sometimes I purge. But I hate myself. I want to get thinner! I want to be 100 pounds! I want to be pretty and perfect... But I'm afraid this will take me away from everything I care about.

Now I have the "perfect life". I have many friends who like the same things I like, I have freedom, money, my lovely family, a boyfriend who loves me, I do well at school, I know what to do with my life, I have lots of fun every weekend, I don't have many responsibilities, people in school respect me now...

But I feel so empty... That's why I say I'm crazy. I have everything and I still feel like I have to be thin to be loved. I don't understand myself. I'm very afraid of loneliness, depression and death. I'm afraid of the EDs.

This is a poem I wrote about purging... It's not very good, but here it is:

criMInAl:

Please forgive me.
I'm a sinner, I'm a criMInAl.
My throat hurts, my voice is silent.
My mouth tastes like blood.
Please forgive me.
Please repent me.
Wash my mouth.
Heal my fingers.
Raise my voice.
Clean the blood.
Take me to the good path.
Please... forgive me.

Medusa, I still have hope. I want to recover... I left the pro ana community long ago. So I think I will be able to win this battle. I want to tell all the girls in my situation that thinness is not happiness, and that they can't lose hope. Hope is the last thing to lose.

I also sent you a picture of a vintage ad. It's in Spanish, but it reads " DON'T BE SKINNY. Be a woman of great proportions. PLUS-FORMA generates flesh on the thinnest silhouettes..."

Isn't it funny how times have changed? Thank you very much for reading this,

Natalia."
________________________________________

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NATASHA'S STORY: "I WAS RAISED THINKING I HAD NO WORTH, NO PLACE IN THIS WORLD."

“Hi medusa,

My name is Natasha and I am 18 years old.

When I think about my life, I’m never really sure when exactly I started hating myself.
I had suicidal thoughts when I was around 9 years old.

I was raised thinking I had no worth, no place in this world.
My stepmother starved me, beat me, and ridiculed me daily.
Despite my father telling me I was beautiful and wonderful, I felt like a true piece of crap.

I ran away at age 11 and was placed in a foster home.
My life only got worse from there.
I was abused there, so had to go to my mom’s house.
My mother was doing cocaine/meth and drinking a lot so parenting me wasn’t her concern.

I was really depressed all the time.
I always felt like I didn't belong anywhere.
Nobody wanted me... nobody could ever love me.

Then at 13 I met Zach....my first boyfriend...
come to find out he also was into drugs...drinking...and abuse.
But he told me he loved me. He gave me attention. He made me feel like I had worth.

Zach ended up changing my life forever, more so than Julie,
In fact, she is a raindrop compared to the storm he brought on.

Zach raped me, almost every day, for the 8 months we were together.
He took my virginity by knocking me out, and continued to do so.
I HATED myself. I blamed my body for his actions. I STILL do.

Now I was 13 when we got together, but while we were still together
I turned 14 and started my period.

Like any normal teenage girl, I had bodily changes afterwards and started getting hips and a new body that I still struggle with today.

So he told me these words that I remember so perfectly to this day, “You look bigger. You’d be so much prettier if your bones were sticking out."

So I took his advice, and starved myself. From that day on, I was NEVER the same. ever. I went from 115 to 91 instantly. And stayed that skinny for a while.

I was cutting everyday, hating my body more and more with every breath I took.
I couldn't handle what I felt, I still can't. He took my femininity, he stole my freedom, he destroyed me.

I continued starving myself, or hardly eating anything at all, over-exercising up until I was about 16-17.

I went into a treatment center for depression because I had tried killing myself.
In that place, I met a girl who was bulimic... well, she was anorexic too,
but she explained how better she felt after puking, how much relief she experienced.
And for me cutting wasn't doing the job anymore, none of it was.
I either had to kill myself, or find something else to forget everything, something else to make me numb.

That very day is when I met my best friend and worst enemy: bulimia.

I have been bulimic for almost a year now.
I went through phases at first where I did it for a little bit, then stopped for a few days even a month one time...but now a days I do it almost everyday, usually all day.

My life is miserable. My life revolves around the next binge, the next puking session...

I HATE my body, but I hate myself more.

Everything I see in the mirror is a disappointment, regret. Its not about being skinny anymore, it’s about forgetting, it’s about dealing. It’s about coming to terms with the pain I feel inside, which I cannot do.

I can't face myself, I can't face the memories... the hurt.
I don't see my life ever changing.
I’d love to be normal, happy, and free again.

I have so many goals and aspirations but my problems hold me back from all of them.
I destroy myself and my body because he destroyed my soul.

If I could go back and change it all and be normal, even chubby, I would.
This isn't worth it.
It never was.

I believe I’ll die doing this and feeling this way.
I’ve lost all hope.

-thanks for listening
xoxo Natasha”

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ANA'S STORY: "I'M LIKE A BROKEN LITTLE BIRD WHO NEEDS SOME LOVE AND CARE..."

“Hi!

I recently started reading your website, and I’m already obsessed with it. Now I wanted to share my story with you.

I've been suffering from an ED over 5 years now, and I'm only 17 years old. It usually is anorexia that I am suffering, but I've also gone through phases with Bulimic-Anorexia, Orthorexia and ED not otherwise specified. I've also been a Pro-Ana. At the time I'm suffering from Anorexia and depression.

During last three years I've met about 10 different shrinks, but none of them can help me. It's like I'm immune to help.

The thing is that I've never been clearly underweight. I have always been what you can call normal weight, and it makes me freak out. I really do hate my body. I want to change it so much that it will kill me.



I know that this ED will kill me some day... I can't carry on too much longer. I hate my life, and it makes me angry knowing that this monster inside me takes all the control I have. I have no one to talk to... My family doesn't know about this, my friends don't care and so on... I really don't know what to do if I can't get into a hospital, but the doctors think that I'm not sick enough... I really don't know how sick they want me to be, 'cause if this will last longer I will die...

The only friends I have are suffering from eating disorders too, and usually we just talk about how to get thinner and stuff... Some of my other friends have left me, because they thought they can't bear with me any longer and they thought that I'm faking all of this...

Some days are better than others, but all I can' think about is food and how much I need to exercise and stuff... I'm exhausted and tired. I want to tell someone about my situation, but there's no one I trust... I'm like a broken little bird who needs some love and care, that's all... I'm mommy's little helper that doesn't get enough attention...

With lots of love,

Anonymous Ana.”

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JAN'S STORY: "I HOPE YOU'LL ALSO FIND OUT ONE DAY THAT LIFE'S WORTH TO BE LIVED."

Jan, after therapy

"Hi Medusa.

At first I just wanted to tell you, that I think, your page is one of the most important in the whole "pro-or-against-eating-disorder" thing.

I'm very sorry for my bad English, I hope, I'll find the words to tell my story. Maybe it'll help anyone to find his/her true self and leave his ED behind.

Half a year ago I thought my eating disorder started in 2008. Now I know that this is not right, it's just that nobody recognized.

When I was at the kindergarten I was a very small and thin child, always underweight. When I started elementary school I also started binging, I don't know why. With 11 years I had a weight about 130 pounds (about 145 cm tall), my parents always asked themselves what was wrong with me (another interesting point maybe is, that my younger brother (I'm 4 years older) started binging also when elementary school began).

I always hated my weight. I always hated my body. I always felt useless, unable to be loved, outstanding and misunderstood, my phobia started with about 8 (I feared nearly everything. Day, night, people, loneliness, darkness, mirrors, talking, and so on), my depressions with 11, with 12. I tried to kill myself or the first time.

With 14 I was diagnosed with Borderline, I was also cutting myself. I was so full of hate and all of it was against my worthless existence.

Jan, a half year before her bulimia started

With 15 I started therapy at a psychiatric ward and stayed there for 5 months. When I went home, I thought it might go better from now, but that was not the face, it went worse.

After another try to kill myself on New Year 2008 I had my second therapy on a ward. I started purging but nobody saw it. At this time it wasn't often, about 2 times a month.

In July I found pro-ana-pages and that was when my ED was complete:

First starving for about 3/4 of a year, I lost nearly 50 pounds. Then my body didn't wanted to do this anymore, but I wanted to, so my bulimia went out of "control" (of course, it's been ALL out of control before. But I never realized).

One year in hell passed, I still don't know how I survived it. Then I went to a clinic which was specialized on eating disorders. This was where I found out, that my ED did not start when I found pro-ana. Where I learned what kind of problems I ever had and why I tried to hide them behind symptoms like cutting, purging or starving. It's been all the same but my parents never saw my problems. I was always the one who said: "I can't live on like this, I need to go to a psychologist", my parents never realized. This does not mean that they didn't take care of me, they just... did not SEE the problems.

Jan, during therapy

After the last clinic I moved out from my mother’s house. I'm living alone now and slowly I started to LIKE myself. Not loving, not yet. But there's an acceptance and some days I look in the mirror and think: "Hey. You're a pretty girl, aren't you? Why did you hate yourself all this time?"

In the end I still don't say that these 15 years of mental disease are wasted. Because they made me being what I am now and they made me also realize that life's often harder than the other might know.

I'm happy at the moment. I like myself - and I LOVE life. And I am glad I survived.

Best greetings to everyone. I hope you'll also find out one day that life's worth to be lived.

Jan."

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OLIVER'S STORY: "BEING A MAN, I FEARED I WOULD NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY..."

"...the number of men treated for anorexia has increased by 67 per cent in the past five years."*

Hello Medusa,

I've been reading your blog for quite some time now, and have found it of great help in my recovery. It helped me put into light what I was doing to myself, what I was at risk of becoming like, the absurdity of it all. Reading other people's stories led me to put things in perspective, see from the outside what I was subjecting myself to; and seeing how sad it made me to read about other people in similar situations made me imagine how sad it certainly was for the people who love me to see me harming myself in such a way.

I wanted to share part of my story with you; because it's good to talk to someone who can understand, and because I feel that I'm at a turning point in my life. Feel free to share it on your blog if you wish.

My name's Oliver and I'm French. I'll be turning 23 soon, and I've had, shall I say, 'explicit' trouble with food since I was 16. Up until then, it was merely a matter of combining bad eating habits with depression and anxiety (due to a major physical birth defect), thus resorting to unhealthy comfort eating when I felt particularly unwell. I had no one to talk to; I always was an extremely reserved and taciturn child, and did not get along with other kids my age. They usually thought I was weird, and constantly made fun of me for being different. I was verbally and physically abused, and, when I was 9, raped, because my physical condition made me an ideal target.

Then, on top of my depression, I came to realise that over the past years, I had gradually become really unfit. This added to my self-loathing and anxiety, which in turn made me resort to binging in order to shut off my feelings for a while. The bouts were few and sparse at first, accompanied by short fasts every once in a while; but as time went by, they grew more and more frequent, and my main method of compensation became purging.

I was incredibly successful in hiding it from my family; to this day, they still have no idea what I've been going through - and I have no desire to tell them. I have always thought I was the only one responsible for my decisions and actions, and that my recovery depended on myself and myself alone. My girlfriend did not understand why I was doing this, and talking to her made me feel guilty more often than not, so I kept to myself most of the time. Sometimes she made fun of me for having a "girl's" disorder - the kind of comments that, in my opinion, make many men with eating disorders wary or afraid to speak up about their illness.

Green Tower by Roger Dean

When I was nineteen, I underwent the last of three major surgeries meant to try and correct my disability. They helped me, but I was painfully aware that my body was still abnormal and not entirely functional, and would always remain so.

My depression eventually got to the point where I sought professional help. Nevertheless, I had a very hard time opening up to my therapists about my eating disorder. Partly because, being a man, I feared I would not be taken seriously, but mainly because I was not looking to hear the 'reasons why' - I knew those well enough - but rather the 'way how'. How I could possibly deal with that, with all the depression and anxiety and anger and frustration that had slowly been building up inside me for the past nineteen years. And I truly believed that I was the only one capable of finding the answer to that question. I saw myself as weak and powerless, which added even more to my lack of self-esteem.

It got to the point where I was purging almost every day, sometimes twice a day, sometimes without even binging. That sent me in a downwards spiral of worsening depression, which I 'fought' by restricting and over-exercising. The mere thought of eating disgusted me (albeit on a moral level more than physical), every meal was a nightmare. I couldn't stand seeing people eating, let alone having them see me eating. I was weighing myself everyday, counting calories, and I was completely unable to enjoy a meal, let alone eat out. In spite of this, I never was underweight; in my mind, I was so pathetic that I even failed as an anorectic. Even at my lowest - yet still normal - weight of 58kg for 1m75, I perceived myself as disgustingly fat and repulsive. I wanted to be emaciated, to take as little space as possible, to disappear.

I started working in the Summer of 2008, when I was 21. It was of tremendous help for me, both with regards to my depression and lack of self-confidence (I worked as a funeral attendant and master of funeral ceremonies), and although I still felt very anxious and ill at ease in my body, my job allowed me to find relief, something to focus upon. When I was with a grieving family, everything related to myself didn't count anymore - everything had to be perfect for them, and I felt I had the ability to provide them with a service that would make them feel relieved and supported.

My eating also got a lot better at that time. Prior to that, I'd had orthorexic tendencies that interfered with my every meal, surrounding them with guilt and remorse about eating something 'wrong'. My job required me to be adequately nourished so I would keep all my physical and mental strength - and my job was more important to me than what I thought was a way for me to keep control of my eating.

But I still wasn't recovered. I still didn't know how to deal with my emotions without turning to binging and purging, and although I was beginning to open up to my girlfriend, I had yet to find something I could consider a solution. My psychologist, whom I unfortunately stopped seeing when I began working, had given me a few tips I could use when I felt a breakdown coming, but I still felt alone facing my eating disorder. I needed a perspective, something that could make me look at the future and see hope amongst the frustration and anxiety that overwhelmed me.

That perspective was brought to me through the decision I made to pursue my initial professional goal. I applied for entrance into an embalming school, was accepted, and over the course of my studies, was constantly comforted in the thought that, at last, I had found what was right for me, what I was meant to do.

Of course, that also was, and still is the cause of an insane amount of stress and worrying, especially since the main issue that caused my depression in the first place - my physical abnormalities - is still far from being resolved, which seemed to multiply the intensity of my anxiety exponentially. I went back to seeing my psychologist, and he's helping me realise that I've already come a long way, and that I'm doing very well in fighting what can be fought.

But even though it was objectively better, my eating disorder was still a problem. It was still waiting, bursting out from its hiding place from time to time, to prove me I was still failing against it.

But I have found one thing that proved to be, for me, the source of nothing but well-being and happiness. This year, I joined a gospel choir. I love singing, but I never liked my voice. Singing with other people made me feel at ease, and what's even more important for me, I've made friends there.

I quickly came to realise that my eating disorder was interfering with my singing, that it was impossible for me to sing with a sore throat, a stuffed nose and a reduced vocal range, as a result of purging. Not to mention that I was feeling hypocritical singing about hope while puking my insides out in despair at home.

I am an atheist, but I am convinced one does not need to believe in God to perceive the message that gospel gives out. It is a message of hope and faith, and while I personally don't put my hope and faith in any particular spiritual figure, I definitely feel I can apply those to my own situation nonetheless.

Singing is the one thing that can never fail to make me happier. It brings me relief, it makes me feel empowered towards my eating disorder; it gives me the strength to tell it straightforward 'guess what, no, I'm not resorting to you anymore for comfort, I have something you could never rival with now, and you're not ruining it'.

Yes, I have something that truly makes me feel better, and which only brings people happiness and peace. I'm no longer harming anybody, myself included.

I am not recovered, but I am recovering. And succeeding."

*Link:

Male Models who are too thin have been banned from the catwalk

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ARGY'S STORY: "MY DAY TO DAY WITH THIS MONSTER THAT LIVES INSIDE OF ME FOR OVER 8 YEARS..."

Argy

"hello .. I'm from mexico and I've read your blog is very good ... I'd like to share my story, my day to day with this monster that lives inside of me for over 8 years ... I have anorexia nervosa and my struggle is every day .. only the only thing I want is to disappear sometimes, I have lost the illusion of life, my life revolves around the damn food, calories, the scale, and my obsession for my bones ...

I currently weigh 31 kilos (68 pounds) but I can not see me as I have become .. I can not take some food to the mouth without wanting to vomit ... all I can afford is a cucumber and green tea .. and sometimes some orange juice ... but I feel good total to fast only with green tea or cucumber ...can not stand the idea of raising an ounce, I like myself against the thickness of my arms, my legs and feel every bone in your body ... if that's not I'm losing, fatal ...

my psychiatrist is treating me for 2 years but not able to do much ... I used to my meds that have helped me for insomnia, depression and suicide attempts my .. but sometimes I do not know if it is worth all this .. I have 23 years this year I finished college and graduated as a lawyer ... but that's not something that motivates me.

Now I'll tell you a bit more about me ... or rather the ways I see things today ..
I think people believe that not to hurt them or to punish them for something, it just has to do with me ... is that now is the time when I say "eat normally" but not so easy. The most absurd thing is that I myself realize how silly I am and how much risk you run. But the temptation to be thin and not eating it too.

When my stomach is empty I feel powerful. I do not want, but my disgust for food is greater than my sanity. I try to eat each day to leave behind something solid and fasting on liquids only, but I find it difficult because I've been very strict with myself. I feel terrible if as much. It's too abrupt a change for my head to eat anything to eat something, to gain or lose weight in any case, no weight loss and weight maintenance. I have yet the panic of any food that is not healthy for me. As I taste something that is not well, something that could make me gain weight I panic and I can not swallow it or just run to vomit ..

And the look and feel so small every part of the body can achieve in my inexplicable complacency during this time so I can love my body, which is illogical in some way.

I feel pressure in my house, my family expects a lot from me, and I am sorry to disappoint and make every effort to understand me and help me. I find it very silly of me. Life would be nicer if eaten as it should, but is that simply I can not. It's stronger than me.

And then another thing: If I weigh myself and the scale scores less than last time I'm relieved and I would eat a little. It is therefore a necessity, not a weak pleasure. The food has slowly invaded my life and be a secondary aspect has become paramount. I dominate, I hate it.

I'm broken in two: on the one hand I feel guilty about eating too little and throw the food but the other party is stronger, I dominate. If I've gone legit I'm clever ... I'm going crazy. Flatter me so much that people tell me how thin I am and how bad I see it is strange but affirm that way things are going as I want.

~ Argy"

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NIINA'S STORY: "I'M STILL STUCK IN A VICIOUS CIRCLE..."

Niina

"In some ways, I'm the typical story. In others, anything but. Growing up I had five beautiful and talented sisters. My father is a workaholic who knows his children are bright and talented, but only expresses it by expecting the best. My mother is a timid woman who loves her children but never really knew how to react to problems.

I know there's been some problems with my sisters when they were younger. My sisters mostly did well in school, maybe rebelled a little but all in all made my parents proud. Ours was a loving home, although maybe a bit chaotic. I was a happy child, a tomboy, a bit weird, but had a couple of friends and that made me happy enough.

I don't know if I would have stayed that way if tragedy hadn't struck. One of my sisters got in an accident. We weren't sure if she'd make it. Severely handicapped and depressed from that, my sister seemed a whole different person, angry at her disabilities, often yelling and crying. I was so young that she actually scared me at times.

Lightning never strikes twice, right? Wrong. Years later, when I was eight, she got in another accident and passed away. I didn't know how to cope. I felt humiliated when people pitied me and saw me cry. I shut off completely. I actually went without physically crying for years.

When puberty hit I hated it. I was an early bloomer and went through hell for it. The boys who were my only friends started taunting my breasts and widening hips. Adult men started to comment when I was barely 12. I've had volatile experiences in relationships with both men and women. I've been sexually assaulted more than once. Pretty soon I started dressing in black and loose clothes. Despite all this I was always an excellent student, and got picked on because of that too.

By the time I was 13 I was cutting myself daily. I had a small circle of friends, most of them deemed odd too. I was the weirdo and freak even among them. I had realized that the more I stood out, the less people actually paid attention. I was loud, no-one listened. I acted out, no-one noticed. I was surrounded by people but always alone.

(From Niina's collection)

Even physically I've always been different. I'm barely 5 ft, very pale with pale hair and a very curvy figure. I've always wanted to be petite but I'm not. I have wide hips and big breasts and broad shoulders.

At 14, I stopped eating for a while. I lost something like 40 pounds in a matter of weeks. I lost half my hair. It hasn't grown back since. They forced me to eat and were happy when my anorexia seemed to vanish and my weight piled back on. Truth was, it just turned to BED, which turned to EDNOS.

At the moment, I'm a 20-year-old girl living with a roommate and my boyfriend. They keep me alive. I've never learned how to eat properly. I abuse alcohol and drugs at times. I hate my body because of all the scars, the fat, the thinning hair. I'm not working or studying at the moment because of severe depression and insomnia, and I'm still stuck in a vicious circle. EDNOS has more or less turned into bulimia by this point. I don't binge or purge every day, but a couple of times a week at least. My roommate especially hates me purging, and I'm constantly scared of getting caught. I can't talk about my problems to her because she doesn't know how to react with anything else than despise, and not to my boyfriend because he seems happy being ignorant. Being somewhat obese, I'm trying to lose some weight but it's really hard balancing between ED and sensible dieting.

(from Niina's collection)

I'm currently on a high dose of antidepressants as well as medication for severe anxiety. I also have some sleeping pills I have to use quite regularly. Ironically I usually binge because of my pills. Most of the time I eat sensibly until after I take my meds and I start to feel drowsy. I can't really control myself in the evenings, I sometimes don't even remember if I've eaten the night before or not. It's a vicious circle because I feel very depressed after I binge, witch leads to restricting and anxiety, which means I certainly can't stop taking my meds that lead to binging. Sometimes I drink to avoid eating. My mother is taking the same anxiety medication for other reasons and has reported that she too over-eats too much after taking them, even though there's no history of ED with her as far as I know.

This situation has been going for almost a year, I think. Time seems to just slip away, my problems blend into an anxious ritual. I know food has always been a tool for me, I've either eaten too much or restricted heavily as a way to suppress my feelings.

I hope to be able to go back to school or get a job in near future, but it's so hard. I try to feel good enough to treat myself well, but I know I can't cope without my medication. I almost want to give into all my illness because this circle seems so hopeless. I'm a disappointment to my parents, even my sisters have somehow managed to rebuild they're lives. I have friends but I hurt them so much. I hate myself for ruining my boyfriend’s life. Most days I don't even leave the house, or change out of my nightgown. I'm a waste of space.

Even now, when I write this, I seem to lose track of time. A noise in my head ponders if I should go back to sleep, although I've only been up for a few hours. Or maybe I should get drunk, or cut myself.

I really do feel hopeless at times.

~ Niina"

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