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...

Share |

Follow on Buzz

JESSICA'S STORY: "I HAVE SUFFERED FROM A PHYSICAL DISABILITY...ALL MY LIFE I DEALT WITH BULLYING. FROM A YOUNG AGE I KNEW I WAS WORTHLESS..."

“Hey Medusa

I understand you probably get thousands of emails with people’s stories in them, and that the vast majority of them will be worse and more moving than mine, but I guess the reason I’m sending this is because I need to get it all out. I’ve told a few people before but always stopped short of spilling all my guts because I was so afraid of losing people.

My name is Jessica, and ever since I was born (12 weeks premature) I have suffered from a physical disability called Cerebral Palsy Spastic Diplegia. My condition is mild and, though my gait is distorted, I am still able to walk. All my life I dealt with bullying, starting in kindergarten I was beaten up, harassed and taunted by my peers. I felt so ashamed I couldn’t tell anyone. In my mind it was my fault I was being bullied, and I was just too weak to figure out a way to stop it. From a young age I knew I was worthless, and I hated myself.

It wasn’t just the actual bullying that got to me. It was the fact people judged me as soon as they looked at me. So at age 8 I thought I needed to take attention away from the fact that I was ugly, that I couldn’t take 5 steps without losing my balance. There was an inner urge, something pushing me. I just –had- to find a way. So I slowly cut down what I ate, I would leave bowls around the house and set them up so it looked like I had eaten. My mother would be proud of me, I thought, I’m making myself beautiful. I’ve never really felt loved by my mother and I've always strived to impress her, I always tried to be more like my brother, who in my eyes, and seemingly hers too, was perfect. I knew my sacrifice and hunger would be worth it one day.

It was around 10 years old I started cutting, I was dangerously underweight at the time, with my hips and ribs jutting out, and I –loved- it, but I was still unhappy. I realise now looking back that I was a very sick little girl. I’d heard somewhere that when your body is cut it releases endorphins, the same thing that chocolate does. And I knew that these “endorphins” as they were called, made you happy. And I was very unhappy, I was still being bullied, I still wasn’t smart or thin enough. I still was a failure. So I tried it and I loved the rush. It was almost as good as the hunger. Long story short my legs were the biggest victim of my rage with myself, as they were the cause of all my problems.

This was also around the time my mother began to notice, I’m abridging things here but I was taken to a doctor and then a psychologist and then a doctor again, who combined, diagnosed me with EDNOS with restricting tendencies.

I didn’t want to get better. I loved the fact that everyone now said “oh, that poor girl, she’s so thin” now instead of covertly whispering to their companions “what’s wrong with that girl?” I could now attribute their staring to something other than the fact I was defective.

Recovery is shit. That’s all I can say, but what did it was my parents threatening to pull me out of school and put me into hospital. I hated hospitals and I loved school, because no matter how much I was bullied outside of class; knowledge was a power to me that no one could take away...

I’m apparently now recovered although I think I may be relapsing. I’m restricting and feeling guilty again. Food is my enemy again. I’m trying to fight it because I want to become a successful doctor, and treat those in third world countries. I want my life to matter but there is always that little voice in the back of my head that says I will never be able to get that score on my final exams and my life will never matter so I might as well give in to what I want; to be thin and pretty. Even though I know eating disorders aren’t pretty and I don’t know how to explain it. I still look in the mirror and see rolls of fat. I still hear a voice in my head that tells me I’m worthless and a failure....I just don’t know what to do.

I have a beautiful best friend who always understands, I don’t know what I would do without her. Who knows? I may have already spiralled downwards in myself destructive habits but I know I have to be strong and stay “recovered” for her and for the people I will be able to help in the future by defying my disability and all the naysayers, by fighting the voice in my head that is my eating disorder and by helping those who need it.

Now, at 15 I still cry myself to sleep at night because I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know if I can make it. I just hope that I can....for me, for my best friend, and it may be egotistical to say this, but for the people I may help in the future if I do manage to succeed.

Thanks for reading Medusa...I do hope you post this. Maybe there is someone like me out there....I’ve always been looking for someone who knows how I feel."

Link to photo:
http://thegazette.com/2011/02/23/bullying-common-can-be-sneaky-experts-say-at-pta-presentation/

Share |

Follow on Buzz

EMMA'S STORY: "ALL I EVER WANTED WAS LOVE."

Me now.

At three still innocent and not tainted.

My name is Emma. I'm 30 years old from Christchurch, New Zealand. 

I have had anorexia, bulimia and serious self harm since I was 11 years old 19 horrible years. 

I can never remember ever being happy. I grew up with a very abusive father and an extremely sick mother in and out of hospital. I also have an older brother who was a bully and treated me like a slave. 

With my mum being so sick I had to run the household from a young age.  Also, my father had very high expectations of me to succeed in everything:  school, music and sport.  I would get up at 5am and not stop until bed at 9.30.

I developed very early, being flung into puberty age 9. Primary school was good.  I was popular, extremely bright.  My teachers loved me. 

But the summer between primary and intermediate something changed. I became the kid everyone picked on, for being bright and ugly, though only 11, I suffered from terrible painful acne and had big breasts and hips. I was sent to the deputy principal for him to teach me alternative subjects.  He sexually abused me for those two years. It was then, at 11, I began cutting. I had no idea what I was doing it just felt good.

Also, I began skipping breakfast and throwing away my lunch.  If I couldn't be pretty I wanted to be skinny (although I was 5'4" and 102lbs) and I hoped I would lose my breasts, which in my mind caused the sexual abuse. I did tell my parents about the abuse but my dad told me to "stop fucking lying, you'll wreck that man’s life." At this age I started viciously hating myself, wrote my parents off.

By 13, my extracurricular activities were: Hockey (4 teams), athletics, cross country, cricket, volleyball, touch rugby, flute, choir, orchestra. So I was doing 5-7 hours of exercise.

By age 14, I was cutting daily.  My anorexia fueled up.  I added 2 hours of running before school; faked breakfast by shaking toast crumbs onto a plate. I gave my lunch to girls in my class. My PE teacher caught on when she found me passed out in the changing rooms.  Soon I was fainting on a regular basis.  I was sent to guidance; they set up a hospital admission for me as my weight dropped to 76lbs and my cutting was no longer secret. But my parents refused consent as they considered themselves perfect and I was not going to ruin their reputation. They said I was anorexic and self harming to make them look bad.

At 16 I agreed to go to the youth section of the psych hospital.  By then I was abusing laxatives and diet pills, and my cuts constantly needed stitching. But once again my parents decided imprisonment at home was a better option. I was tormented and overdosed on sleeping pills and anti depressants had my first of 100s of public- medical hospital admissions.  My heart was affected.

At the same time somehow I was a hockey and athletics rep and A student.

At 17, my last year of high school, I was so depressed, all I could focus on was self harm and my ED which had evolved to bulimia. I would cut class to binge and purge then cut and burn. I had begun to experiment with burning myself with acid. 

At 18, I ran away to another city where I spiraled out of control. I inflicted third-degree burns that needed grafting; took massive overdoses.  The first I woke from a coma in intensive care with a tube down my throat. I was committed to the psych hospital and all year I was either in intensive care or in the psych hospital. I was transferred to a private hospital that specialised in eating disorders and Borderline (diagnosed at 15). I hated it and was there for a year. 

After 2 1/2 years in hospital I was sent home to my parents, seen as a failure soon to die.

Now 21, I fell into a bad crowd and was back to anorexia.  88 lbs, I spent 4 hours at the gym then spent the rest of my time drinking and smoking weed. I was raped three times.  Then one night I was involved in arson. I was sentenced to 2 1/2 years prison. I served 7 months.

Trying to cut this short, since then I have been in and out of the medical and psych hospitals. Anorexia, Bulimia, self harm and suicide is all my mind could contain.  I should have been dead at least 50 times over. Doctors have told me I should be dead, they wish I was dead, and I was a waste of time, space and money.

At 30, sitting here, I am scarred completely, both arms and legs. I've had 24 skin grafts, I have severed many tendons, I have faced amputation 4 times.  I cannot have anymore surgery as my left arm is all scar tissue inside and out; it is weak and doesn’t function well. I have had bone and vessels and muscle cut out of my leg and arm due to being burnt. I have brain damage, as I have had 7 cardiac arrests and 3 respiratory arrests. My heart is damaged; it could stop at anytime. Bulimia has robbed me of my bowel: 3 years ago it stopped working.  The pain was horrific.  They operated; my bowel is black and decayed all due to my 100-a-day laxative addiction. I have capped teeth.

I have been told I'm one of the worst cases of self harm in the world by my British psychologist and American psychiatrist.

My arm after surgery after I’d severed 3 tendons.

My leg after more grafting.

I feel like I have just been regurgitating facts and I'm not baring my emotion.  My life has been wasted.  I started self harming to cope.  I thought I controlled it...I could stop when I wanted to...same with ED, but it's just not true. 

I live an isolated life, I have been banned from hospitals.  They've had enough. I have tried, I really have, but what’s the point when no one cares and no one will ever love me because I'm deformed. 

All I ever wanted was love. I just don't know how to 'get a life.' I don't know how to make friends. I hate justifying my existence.

I should have a job like a normal person, but I’m so tired from all the meds and the depression, the hopelessness. Currently, I weigh 108lbs. I've started restricting and purging again. I wish my parents had just bought a trophy and not conceived me. I was discharged from mental health two months ago deemed ‘incurable’.

A pic of my tattoo of mental health awareness ribbon.

Since I feel I have been relatively emotionless, I have added a couple of my poems from a book I had published this year:

Anorexia

The world

Drains of colour

Black mourning in my eyes

Too many times

I’ve stared death in the eye

So close

I could feel his cold

Stagnant breath on my cheeks

His skeletal fingers

Fingering my lank thinning hair

Ana

Ana, he calls

I’ve come to pick your bones

Clean.

~~~

Self Hatred

Don’t fill me

With false prophecies

I want to lie

Face upturned

Empty

Free of parasitic guilt

Free of self consuming hate

Empty

Nothing to feel

Desolation echoes

Through my body

Reverberating

An unanswered cry

In an empty room

Impartial I lie

Unturned and empty.

Share |

Follow on Buzz

ELIS'S STORY: "CHEW AND SPIT WAS PART OF MY EVERYDAY HABIT."

Elis and her Aunt when Elis first arrived in Ecuador

"Hello Medusa. I just want to start off by saying that thank God for people like you. You have made my treacherous recovery process easier for me.

My name is Elis and I am 17 years old. I don't want to say that I'm different from the rest of the girls with an eating disorder, because EVERYONE is different and just because someone falls into an eating disorder, does not mean that they are exactly the same person, because just like in every other case of anything, everyone is different. Of course, I share a common sense of knowledge and certain aspects with my fellow eating disorder sisters, but that does not mean that we are all the same person. So here's my story.

I guess you could say I always had weight problems. Ever since I was little girl, I was a little bit on the heavier side, but it never got to the point where you could say that I was obese. I still remember being in the fourth grade, when I wasn't even that chubby, and being made fun of on numerous occasions. I would go home and cry, too ashamed to go to someone.

All of my friends were thin, my mother was a fitness instructor, and my sister, well let's just say that she had and still has the body of a goddess, without even trying. Now that I think about it, I really should have gone to my mother or sister, because they would have been nothing but supportive, but I was just too ashamed.

The taunting wore off for a while, just an occasional asshole would say a slur, but I wouldn't really let it get to me. I loved food, but by no means would I ever binge, I just made wrong food choices when it came time to eat.

Freshman year of High school was a breakthrough for me. I had a mind set that I NEEDED to lose weight because I had weighed myself, and realized that I weighed 148 lbs. I was only 5'3, and my mother, who had 4 children and was 4 inches taller than me, weighed less. I NEEDED TO LOSE weight. So I began surely, but slowly. I started to eat less, choosing a salad with some form of protein instead of a Fried chicken sandwich. I also began to run. I eventually started to take off more and more calories. I eventually got down to eating 110 calories a day for a span of 1 month. I spiraled down to 114 lbs, and everyone said I looked great! I was SO satisfied with myself, but there was one thing I was sure of; I was HUNGRY!

So I began to chew and spit. I would eat food, mainly breads and carbs and chew them up, and spit them into a napkin. I would spend hours on end doing this. I would ''eat'' so much that my jaw began to hurt. And of course, I had the occasional slip up and would swallow food, of course, I would end up throwing it up. My passion is still to become a chef, and at the time I would cook up a storm and just chew and spit all day.

I remember one day, during the Summer going into Jr. year, I decided that I didn't want to spit something out. So I bought a french baguette and spread mayo all over it. I ate the WHOLE thing. I don't even like mayo! I work at a supermarket, and I had closed that day, so all of this occurred in the late hours of the night, early hours of the morning. I tried to throw it back up, but I couldn't. It wouldn't come back up. I was so FRUSTRATED! The self hate I endured was unbearable, I began to cry on the bathroom floor, and I hated myself for having allowed myself to gain most of my weight back. The words of some people haunted my thoughts ''Wow, you've gained weight.'' or ''Oh, I remember when you WERE skinny..''I lost a few pounds and was ready for Junior year. I had this in the bag.

The first couple of months were ''normal''. Chew and spit was part of my everyday habit. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't eat normal, no matter how much I wanted to, I just didn't have it in me. I couldn't tell anyone that I had an eating disorder, I wasn't ''thin enough.'' I hated myself. I was obsessed with the thought of death, that's all I wanted. And I hated myself for thinking like this.

I had everything I wanted. My parents were still together, nothing had ever happened to me in my past, I had friends and family who loved me and supported me in every way possible, but I just hated myself. And I hated myself even more for hating myself. It was a never ending spiral into the depths of hell. So, instead of ending my eating disorder, I just grasped onto Ana more than ever.

I began to limit myself to 40 calories a day, and soon got down to 20 calories a day. I developed very strange OCDs and would run up and down the stairs numerous times in day for no reason whatsoever. I spiraled down to 102 lbs in less than a month. I would get called down to the office at school on numerous occasions. I would deny everything. I would say that everything was okay and blamed the weight loss on ''stress.''

I isolated myself from every single one of my many friends. My life was school, work, running, and me planning out my meal plans. That was all, and all I ever wanted. I was a skeleton. The stares in the hallways showed fear in complete strangers eyes. Every comment such as ''Why are you so thin?'' or "Your arms look like twigs!'' would just feed my eating disorder even more. The worse I looked to people, the happier I made Ana.

On March of 2010, I was sent for Spring break to my hometown of Ecuador. I was so excited, but at the same time concerned that I would lose control of my food. When I arrived, the look in my Grandfather's, aunt's, and older brother's face, made me want to cry. For the first time, I did not feel good about people's concerned eyes. I felt horrible. The look of fear was unbearable. Everyone was so concerned.

About 5 days into my vacation, I went to go visit my mom's cousin. Janine had once suffered from Anorexia as well. When she saw me, she played it off well, but I could see right through her. I knew she was very concerned. The next day, I went to a check-up (our insurance in the States had fallen through, and anything medical related is 10x cheaper in Ecuador). I was down to 90 lbs, at 5'4. I had a BMI of 16.0. The next day, my older brother told me we were going to another doctor. I believed him. When we arrived I saw a building. Standing outside were my grandfather and Janine. Above them read a sign that said ''The Center.'' I already knew what was coming.

I walked into the house-looking facility, not knowing what to expect. I was ambushed by people that I had never seen before, telling me that everything was going to be okay. I broke down. I was crying with no end. How could my parents tell me that I was going away for vacation when THIS was their intention?! I was furious, I was confused, I felt betrayed. But most of all, I was terrified. I knew that I would have to confront something that I lived with everyday. I would have to look it dead in the eye, something I had never done before. I was living with something that controlled my life, my every move, but I chose to pretend like it wasn't there, as if it were a ghost. I was terrified. I soon came to learn that my parents intention was not to send me off to get help, but when they discovered that I would be getting help, thanks to Janine, they couldn't disagree.

Recovery was brutal at first. I would cry in every therapy session. I was so stubborn. I soon grew to LOVE my nutritionist, Talia, and my therapist, Gaby. They did not try to force anything into my brain that I wasn't yet willing to accept. I grew to absolutely LOVE the other girls, they helped me not feel so alone. We all shared a common sense of loneliness, but when were together, those feelings disappeared.

Actually, one of the girls has written here, and her story was published, her name is May, and I am the one who sent the poem to her. We all grew so close together it was amazing. They made my recovery so much easier. I even got a tattoo with Romy, one of my best friends from The Center. She accompanied me while I got ''Dum Vita est, spes es'' tatted on my back. Next to it is the eating disorder awareness symbol. Its translation is ''While there's life, there's hope.''

My family literally saved me. If it weren't for them, then I don't know what I would have done. My mother came to a different country, leaving her job and family, for 3 months just to support me. Janine, well I have no words to say what she means to me. She literally saved my life, if it weren't for her, I don't know where I would be right now.

My aunt opened her doors for me the last 2 months that I was in Ecuador, despite my rebellion to stay with her. My older sister is amazing. She helped pay a lot of my recovery and was always so loving and supporting, despite how difficult it was for her to understand my eating disorder. My father and younger brother was also supportive every way possible, I love them to death! My grandfather was supportive in every way possible, financially, emotionally. He was my right hand man the whole 6 months.

And last but not least my older brother, oh my older brother. I can honestly say that every time I think of him, I tear up. Him and I have had such a strong bond ever since I was born, despite the 13 year age difference. He allowed me to stay in his home for the first 4 months that I was there, and would have loved to have me stay in his home the whole time, but that could not be possible. I love him more than anyone else in this world.

A trigger for me to go home was when I realized that I was missing out on life. This eating disorder had consumed my whole high school life and I refused to let in take over my senior year. Everyone's facebook status was about going into senior year. I was desperate to go home. Soon enough, 1 month into school, I came back to Florida. Saying goodbye was the among the most difficult things that I had ever had to do. I had grown to love my family in Ecuador more than words could describe. I didn't think that was possible, but I was proven wrong.

I have now been back for about 4 months, and I can honestly say that I still feel a hole inside of me. One hole being those loved ones of mine in Ecuador, and the other hole being that inner battle. I still don't love myself, and at times, I can say that I hate myself. But I can come to terms with myself.

I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with my body, nor food, but right now I feel that I'm at the point where I can accept myself, just for who I am. I am an aspiring nutritionist, to help others, and to help myself. I hope my story will help someone over come their eating disorder in some way. Just love yourself."

For more information on the dangers of chewing and spitting, please click this link:

THE SECRET OBSESSION: CHEWING AND SPITTING...

Share |

Follow on Buzz

TERESA'S STORY: "...IT IS POSSIBLE TO RECOVER, BE HEALTHY AND GET SOME RELIEF FROM THE ED VOICE."

"Medusa,

I have started this email more times than I can count only to delete it. Part of me has been worried about telling my story perfectly and another part has been worried that I didn’t have a story worth telling.

I am almost 22 and have been dealing with an eating disorder since I was seven years old.

When I was 4 years old I was diagnosed with Leukemia and underwent 2 and a half years of chemotherapy. I remember being so happy that it was done and I got to be a normal kid. On my make a wish trip to Disney World I was sexually abused by three strangers and it was shortly after that I remember having the first negative thoughts about my body and sneaking food to binge on.

Shortly after this trauma, I was raped by an older cousin which only sent my thoughts into further chaos.

When I was 12 my behaviors changed drastically and I began restricting. How little I ate in a day is not important. I lost weight, and like many of us, got positive feedback. Unfortunately I kept going.

Throughout high school my anorexia was a secret. I had some other health issues that were an easy explanation for why I was so thin. I remember being on a walk with my Dad when I was a sophomore and in the lowest place I had gotten (I didn’t know then how much lower I would sink). I told my Dad that I had an eating disorder and needed help. Neither he nor my mother said anything for years.

When I went away to college my restricting got worse and obsessive exercise, a beast I thought I had under control, reared its head again and I lost more weight. The only one who noticed and worried was my boyfriend from high school but we were at different schools, states away and it was easy to let him think I was doing better than I was.

That summer I went home, excited to be around friends, to get to spend time with my boyfriend (Andrew) and see my family. I spent a lot of time with a friend from high school, Nick. Unfortunately, my judgment about this friendship was seriously flawed. He sexually assaulted me on several occasions when I was on pain medications that left me vulnerable.

After these assaults, my eating disorder went into overdrive and I lost more and more weight. Six months later I finally told my parents I had had enough and wanted to start treatment. I remember the day of my intake at an outpatient treatment center near school. I was so nervous I thought I was going to faint. They suggested I do their 8 hour a day program. I said I’d come once a week for group because school was my priority.

I was in treatment for four months before I went home once again for the summer and didn’t gain any weight or make any noticeable progress in curbing my behaviors.

That summer at home I lost even more weight in a desperate attempt to deal with spending every day in the place where I had been attacked. At the end of the summer, which was the most miserable time of my life despite being at my thinnest, a place the AN told me would make me happy, I went back to school and started treatment again, this time 5 days a week.

Now, almost a year later, I am weight restored and finally getting a handle on restricting. Today is day 10 without any symptoms and following my meal plan 100%. I am in a place where my body and mind are healthy enough to start the real work—dealing with the sexual abuse I have suffered and the damage it has inflicted on my self image, both physical and emotional.

I am still in treatment and will probably be for the foreseeable future but for the first time in 15 years, there is light at the end of the tunnel rather than a specific number or size. I feel uncomfortable in my body every second of every day and most of the time would give anything to be my thinnest again so I could just hide, but I try to tell myself all the positive things recovery has brought me. I have moments where I’m warm, it doesn’t hurt just to sit, I haven’t blacked out or collapsed in months, I don’t feel my heart palpitating after climbing three stairs, my fiancé can hug me and not be afraid to break me.

I hope that all the wonderful men and women who follow this blog will read this and know that recovery is possible. I’m still in the early stages but it is possible to recover, be healthy and get some relief from the ED voice. And life becomes so much more vibrant and real when you give your body the food it needs and the respect it deserves.

Teresa

Attached is a picture I love. It symbolizes to me the steady ground that recovery is, upon which I must base my life."

Share |

Follow on Buzz

LEE'S STORY: "I WAS MISERABLE. I HAD WASTED ALL SUMMER EXERCISING OR PURGING OR TAKING NAPS BECAUSE I HAD NO ENERGY."

"I just want to say that your site means so much to me. I'm in recovery for an eating disorder and there has been many times where I wanted to (or did) fall back into old habit and sometimes just clicking on your site has helped to snap me out of it. It’s nice to know that amid all the pro-ana garbage out there that there’s at least one site that doesn't spew the myth that anorexia and bulimia will make us better people.

Here’s my story…

I had had issues food-wise almost my whole life but it didn't get bad until my sophomore year of college. I started off restricting. I'd put all the food I was allowed to eat into little Ziploc bags. The whole week’s worth probably only added up to 1000 calories.

I started going to the gym everyday for hours. I neglected schoolwork and friends (ugh, how I regret that now). I started the year off at 155, which isn't a bad weight for me since I'm quite tall at 5"8, but I felt like it wasn't good enough and so I pushed my body to lose weight.

I started purging and abusing laxatives. Anything and everything I ate was usually purged up. My friends knew something was up but I wouldn't admit anything, until one night I got drunk and ended up crying about how I had broken my fast.

I woke up the next day hoping they wouldn't remember what I'd said, but they did. They told me that unless I went to a counselor they would tell my family. I was pissed but I went. Unfortunately the counselor I went to was nice but inept at treating an eating disorder. I'd sit in her office and be asked the same questions over and over until I thought I would scream. But it kept my friends happy and so I went every week.

One night after having an emotional breakdown I called my mom and admitted to her what was going on, but the response I received was not at all what I expected. When I told her I had an e.d. she asked how that could be when I wasn't thin? I was devastated and redoubled my efforts to lose the weight I thought I needed to. (now I can see that my mom was just uneducated about what an e.d. looks like).

I ended the year at 127, but I still wasn't happy. I went home for the summer still dedicated to lose as much weight as I could. At the end of the summer I was down to 118 lbs and went back to school hoping for even more weight loss. I was miserable. I had wasted all summer exercising or purging or taking naps because I had no energy.

My grades were suffering too. I had been a 3.5 gpa student and now was at a 2.0. I was realizing that the e.d. was the reason I was miserable. I went back to the counselor and asked her to recommend someone who specialized in e.d.s. Luckily, there was a person near campus who could fit me in. I didn't really think she'd help but I wanted to at least see if it'd be worth my time to go. So I went and really didn't commit to recovery until a couple months in, when I was evaluated at an eating disorder treatment center and told that they wanted to admit me. My insurance wouldn't cover it though so I was left feeling like there was nothing I could do.

But there was. I could actually work with my therapist and TRY. It was such a simple concept and so I told her that I wanted to really try at recovery. It’s been hard, there are so many days where I just want to go back to the way things were, that feeling of numbness that my e.d. gave me, but that didn't solve anything, it just added to my stresses.

I have had days where I do fall back into old habits, but now it’s harder to justify those actions to myself, because I know that I do have a right to a healthy body."

Share |

Follow on Buzz

ROBIN'S STORY: "I'M IN EATING-DISORDER PURGATORY"...

Robin (2010)

“Sometimes the people who mean to do the best for you end up doing the worst, not realizing the constant stream of conflicting comments only create a bigger and more complex monster. Ever since I could remember, my mother chirps in with the weight comments, good and bad. I honestly don't think she was consciously trying to hurt me, just one of those thoughtless off-the-cuff remarks.

I remember, growing up, my mother making comments about my short chubby little legs or my butt, especially around puberty (which is a bitch in my family) I, like most girls, added some chubbiness on top of my already growing 'awkward preteen' resume. I remember playing by the pool with one of my best girl friends (who happened to be a string bean all through school) and doing a split, "Your fat’s hanging out of the side."

When all my girlfriends took up ballet in JR high school, I wanted to go too. "You can't do that, you're too fat". I wasn't ballet material for numerous reasons, and I'm sure that the required leotard would've been less than flattering, but I was by no means a living breathing weeble wobble. Once the summer before my freshman year of high school rolled around I figured out the magic of calorie restricting. I was never good at math, but I knew that if I kept my daily caloric intake around 500 and did that same amount of crunches, I no longer was the proud owner of the awkward preteen chub.

Robin (2010)

Throughout my freshman year I did not crack 100 lbs, hitting my lowest point at 86 lbs. It sounds horrifying, but given that I'm very petite I was able to hide it easier. Throughout high school my weight yo-yo'd going from my lowest of 86 lbs to 125 lbs when I graduated, which is considered healthy for 5'4".

The boyfriend I had in high school was not particularly helpful to my weight obsession. I suppose when you take on unhealthy habits or lifestyles, you, in turn, attract unhealthy people. I had dated him for many years. When we started dating, I was still in my very thin stage, and once I became within a 'normal' weight range the comments from him would start. I have a lot of food allergies (which probably only exacerbates my anxiety with food) and had a very limited menu that I could eat from at the lunch room at school, which mainly consisted of chips and a drink. We would be sitting with my friends and when I went to open my bag of chips, he'd snatch them away from me and say, “You don't need to eat those.” Eventually we ended up sitting by ourselves during lunch ... gee I wonder why .... After high school we broke up. My relationships with men that were less than healthy seemed to be a running theme.

"Me right before my wedding in April 2008, very stressed = a sick Robin"

After high school we broke up. My relationships with men that were less than healthy seemed to be a running theme. It wasn't until I met my now husband that I can honestly say that I'm in a healthy, loving and supportive relationship with someone who is my best friend.

Robin on her wedding day

My poor husband knows that I'm sick, but I don't think that he knows what to do with it. I don't know what to do with it. I don't think that I look particularly sick, but my anxiety around food and eating is overwhelming. Combined with various life-threatening food allergies, and now a choking episode every other time I try to eat (going back and forth to Boston trying to figure out if its eosinophilic esophagitis or very aggressive acid reflux), trying to eat is torture. I eat whatever I want, but I torture myself mentally over it and go to the gym every day that is physically possible, and when I don',t I get physically ill. I obsess over what size clothes I am, which every woman knows is a losing battle because most companies have different ways of cutting clothes, so you might be one size in one store, then 4 sizes bigger in another. How good I feel on any particular day depends on how fat I feel.

Robin & her husband

I don't think that I fit any one particular eating-disorder category. I'm in eating disorder purgatory. I don't binge, I don't puke, I eat very little, but I don't consciously restrict, and I'm obsessed with the gym. I just absolutely adore the feeling of being tiny. I think a part of it is a control issue, I've had so many (non-related) health issues, and an anxiety disorder, that being able to control my size is one thing that brings me comfort, and getting any type of therapy or treatment to me means taking away my security blanket.

Robin during her pregnancy

I have two beautiful children: my son is four and my daughter is 10 months. I gained 50 lbs each time, and for anyone with an eating disorder the comments of "OH.MY.GOD.YOU HAVE HOW MUCH LONGER LEFT?!" "ARE YOU HAVING TWINS??" isn't exactly reassuring. When you lose all the baby weight and then the back-handed compliments start coming in ... "You look great, just don't lose any more weight" .... nice. I was able to stop my weight obsession cold turkey when I was pregnant both times. I think I felt safe because I had carte blanche to gain weight without too much self-hatred and guilt, because, after all, I was growing a human. It's always been one or the other, either I look a little chubby or "Are you eating?" "What is it you’re eating?" When people start harassing me about my diet I just shut down, it’s kind of like a double- edged sword. I always want to be the littlest one, yet I don't want the comments that go with it.

"It's never too early to tell her she's beautiful, just the way she is"

I know how harmful my mother’s comments were to me, and I consciously don't pick at myself or make negative comments around my children, and I tell both my children that they're gorgeous every day. My daughter is very very tall; she's 10 months’ old and has been wearing size 18 months since she was 8 months’ old. I've gotten after people, particularly my mother, about comments like "beast" and "giant" .... no, she's a 'supermodel' or just plain old 'beautiful girl' will do. I know that I will never ever ever make comments about my daughter’s body, and will not stand for anyone doing it either. My mother and grandmother are always very critical of their own bodies, and when someone you love and look up to says bad things about their own bodies, as a child, you think they are perfect, and you came from them ... so you think ...”'if they think they're fat and ugly, I must be too.”

So what’s the moral of the story here? I'm not sure exactly. I know that I'm floating around in eating disorder purgatory with my 'security blanket' of body image obsession, yet it can make me so miserable. I know I'm going to fight like hell to make sure my daughter knows how gorgeous she is, and to make sure my son treats every woman with dignity and respect, and love her for who she is. Now I'm at my pre-baby weight, but my old clothes aren't quite fitting the same and my body has changed ... let’s just say that losing a total of 100 baby lbs can cause some sagging ... and drooping ... *I feel pretty**oh so pretty* ....so now besides the numbers on the scale, I have a whole new area to obsess about, and unfortunately the only way to fix those particular problems I'd have to visit Dr.Nip/Tuck because no amount of exercise can get rid of extra skin.

I go through highs and lows of my own self image. If I make a conscious effort to compliment myself and try to feel good, then I do feel better, but it is a lot of work after almost 20 years of self loathing, and sometimes my efforts get lost between working a full time job, doing laundry, cleaning the house and changing diapers.”

~ Robin

Share |

Follow on Buzz

AMY'S STORY: " I AM A GYM JUNKIE..."

Amy B

"Exercise Addiction

I am a 23 year old woman with anorexia athletica which, to put it bluntly, means I am a gym junkie. I have suffered with anorexia nervosa with bouts of bulimia for about 6 years. I consider myself lucky that I wasn’t captured by this illness as a young child because living with any kind of eating disorder is complete misery. I have discovered on my journey those that are pro anorexia and others that have little or no understanding of the seriousness of this life-ruining sickness. I have to state that it is not something to be proud of nor is it any way of life as with any kind of obsession it’s incredibly unhealthy and WILL take its toll on your mental and physical health.

I got captured in eating-disorder thoughts when I decided to lose a few pounds. I was around the low end of healthy but wanted to lose just a little bit of weight. This soon escalated and became ‘just a little more’ and determination to push it that little bit further. Before I knew it I was obsessing over every inch of my body, counting calories, weighing food, over exercising, purging food, hiding food… I had become hooked.

I started by purging food and was under the belief that it was okay to do it occasionally. I know now it was just the beginning of a very slippery slope, which has caused a lot of heartache and upset everyone around me.

I began restricting food and over exercising in a desperate bid to lose weight. I always felt bigger than my friends and disliked my body from a very young age. No matter what I weighed it was never low enough and I despised what I saw in the mirror or when I looked at my body. As the weight dropped I received compliments that only fueled me to lose even more weight.

The more I starved the hungrier and more deprived I became, leading to full-scale binge episodes and hours of vomiting. I have scarred my knuckles, ruined my teeth and burst blood vessels because of bulimic tendencies. I have oestopenia because of anorexia and my depression has spiraled out of control because of the eating-disordered behaviors.

Throughout the past few years I have been hospitalised 3 times due to the mental and physical toll that anorexia and bulimia has taken on my body. I have had moments of clarity where I have made improvements and started to get well only to fall from a great height into another trap. It can literally take a small comment from someone to having a bad day and I will start to attack myself.

I am currently consumed by my exercise addiction, which has taken over my life leaving me barely any time to even tidy my house let alone socialise with others. I thrive on the exercise high whether it is from aerobic classes, gym circuits, swimming, cycling or running. Anything will do so long as I burn the small amounts of food I eat and I get the exercise high. I love the feeling I get from exercise but would like to have a healthier approach to one of my passions in life. I am aware that I am not the only one that has a gym addiction as throughout my time spent working out I have recognized the regular people but also the excessive pushing themselves to the limit about to collapse citizens.

People joke about it and think I should just get a grip but sadly it isn't as easy as that otherwise I wouldn't be in the situation I find myself. I often find myself just wanting to go that little bit further and feel compelled to stay in the gym. If I leave earlier than anticipated or god forbid take a rest day I feel insanely guilty, distressed and angry with myself which then leads me to turn to other eating-disorder behaviors. It’s a vicious cycle and I have no idea how I will escape.

Amy, before her eating disorders

Many males and females are suffering and the eating disorder 'specialist' services treat you like an adolescent child and make you feel like you have brought this horrible disease on yourself. The approaches taken are ridiculous with way too much focus on weight and giving you trouble for having thoughts and feelings that you have little or no control over.

The illness is not about being thin and beautiful; it’s just the only way I know how to cope with my feelings of deep dislike for myself. Having been left so long to deal with this illness alone it has left me very resentful towards people that want to change me, taking away what has essentially and very sadly became part of my identity. I would hate for this to happen to anyone else and hope that somewhere there is more help for people with this illness. I wish that a light bulb would turn on and I could wake up and leave this hell behind me but for that to happen I feel like I would need a small miracle.

However I do consider myself in recovery and I am going to try and fight this illness, and fingers crossed I can look back one day and feel elated to have overcome this mind-consuming disorder.

Amy B"

Amy may be contacted at...

http://butterflyshapes.blogspot.com/

and

butterflyshapes@gmail.com

Share |

Follow on Buzz

HOW COULD ANY PRO-ANA FIND THESE PICTURES "THINSPIRATIONAL"?

FROM THIS...

TO THIS...

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.

Share |

Follow on Buzz

TESSA'S STORY: MY TIME WILL COME TO TELL THE TRUTH...

Tessa's story...

“After reading the stories that have been shared I decided I would give it a go. When it comes to talking about ED I've never been very truthful in fear that I won't be taken seriously or no one will listen. So this is my first attempt of telling the truth.

My name is Tessa. I'm 16, diagnosed with bulimia nervosa. At the moment I would say it's turned to EDNOS.

I guess I'll start with a brief history. My parents divorced when I was 3, I live with my mother and visit my dad on weekends. I have a brother who is 7 years older and a step sister who is my best friend. My mom was sick for most of my childhood and I was always known as the good kid who kept to myself and did what I was suppose to while my brother went through a really tough time in high school.

When I was younger my dad was physically abusive but only towards my brother. My brother was only abused when I got hurt by accident, which of course I felt terrible about. I believed it was all my fault, if I had just been more careful or held in the tears a bit longer maybe my brother wouldn't have been hurt. The physical abuse continued until my dad married my step-mom. There was little abuse in those first couple of years. Now he is verbally abusive which I have been a victim of.

I've always been a picky eater but there were foods that I had previously enjoyed being crossed off the list of foods I would eat. Everyone believed it was just because I was picky nothing more, in a month or two I'd probably be eating those foods again but I didn't. At 13, after my mom told me I look liked I'd gained weight and should go to the gym, I began obsessively exercising. Of course my mother approved of this and was glad I was getting exercise.

I believe it didn't turn into a full-blown eating disorder until I was 14, beginning high school with no friends. I found friends to sit with at lunch but still skipped lunch everyday. I began to count calories, weighing myself daily, hiding food, and I purged for the first time. I lost some weight but not much.

I didn't get into laxatives and diet pills until last year. This past year has definitely been one hell of a year for me. In late January I attempted suicide with a small overdose that, obviously, wasn't fatal. I met my best friend, Chelsea, who also has an eating disorder. We have been through so much together.

My mother found out about my eating disorder the first week of summer break. She read my journal and found all my diet pills and laxatives. She took me to our GP who referred me to an ED specialist who he works with. I was then referred to the outpatient clinic in my town, the same one Chelsea started going to in May.

My summer was filled with so many appointments yet it managed to be one of the best summers ever. At the time I was binging and purging 10+ times a day. I had been doing that since March although back then it was probably just 5 times a day.

The binging and purging continued until September when Chelsea attempted suicide. I was absolutely devastated, I couldn't get the memory of finding out she overdosed, racing over to her house, telling her parents, and seeing her lying in the hospital bed. I visited her everyday while she was in hospital but it was like the memory was on replay in my mind. I didn't eat for 2 weeks and then started to eat a couple of vegetables at dinner. I fell behind in school and I am still struggling with the work I missed.

Now I continue to restrict and abuse laxatives. I've convinced my mom that I eat everything and that I haven't abused laxatives or purged in months. I left the outpatient clinic in early December and faced threats of hospitalization. Now that I am supposedly eating alright the threats have stopped but I am losing weight rapidly and I fear being forced into inpatient.

I know my story is far from over and there is still so much to come along with so much that I didn't write. I just hope that this year is better for me. I can't imagine being recovered or even really attempting it, not now at least. But I know my time will come and when it does I will try to tell the truth and not the lies I've been telling myself and everyone around me.

If you read this thank you for taking the time too.”

Tessa, thanks so much for sharing your story. I dearly hope the truth comes out soon...before it's too late.

~ Medusa
xoxoxo

Share |

Follow on Buzz