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

CHELSEA'S STORY: "WHEN I LOOK IN THE MIRROR...I SEE WHAT I REALLY AM. A SICK GIRL THAT NEEDS HELP..."

"I haven't ever written to a complete stranger before, nor have I ever really told anyone my story, but I'm hoping that maybe opening up and talking about it might help; if not me then others who might read this if it is posted and decide to turn away from bulimia and self harm before it consumes them. Attached are pictures of some of my scars in regards to burning.

I have been struggling with bulimia for nearly 8 years now. I am only 21 years old, almost 22. When I was younger, I started with the mindset that I wanted to be thin like other girls, but as time went on and I eventually became thin it continued. Over the years it had shifted from a yearning to be 'pretty' to a compulsion.

If I don't purge I begin to get anxious. My heart races and I slip into a temporary depression. If you are thinking that you can control it, you are wrong. When I first started I had the mindset that I would only purge when I felt I ate too much, then it drifted to only purging one meal a day. It continued until I was purging everything I ate for several days. I would only stop purging for a day or two when I started seeing blood in my vomit.

When I started I had heard people say that you can't control it, but I thought I was different. I was convinced that -I- Would be different, that -I- would be able to keep hold of the situation, and even when I was at my lowest I was still convinced that I had it under control.

After a few years I was forced to move in with my father and it became very difficult to purge as I had been, but I still managed to purge at least once a day, twice if I was lucky. That continued until I turned 18 and moved into my own house.

My eating disorder stayed the same for some time, managing to keep 'control' and only purge once or twice a day, but I started to gain weight. I slipped so far, purging until there was blood and then continuing but I still kept gaining weight.

Finally I went to the doctor for another medical problem I had, only to find out that I had PCOS and Diabetes. It was because of my untreated diabetes that the little sugar I was taking in to keep my blood sugar up was instantly turning to fat. I then started medication to treat it and the weight melted away.

My eating disorder seemed to 'balance out' once again, until I lost my insurance. Here we are now. I am 'thick' if that is what you want to call it, yet I purge daily. It is 4:42pm, and I have purged 4 times. I get to feel the pain, to struggle with the physical hurt and mental agony of bulimia, and I don't even get the 'benefit' of being thin.

Not only do I purge on a regular basis, I also burn. I prefer burning over cutting. I have several scars on my upper leg and every time I look at them I am disgusted with myself. They are hideous, and yet I continue to burn. It is an endless cycle. I burn because I have power when I burn. I have control of what causes me pain. I know full well that I have no power over this, but when I am in the mind set to burn all of that reasoning goes out the window. I can sit here and tell you right now that it is stupid. There is no point in burning. It doesn't solve any of my problems, it doesn't change the outcome of things, it doesn't make me feel better. I look at my scars and I am disgusted with myself. If anything, it makes my life worse. Yet I know when I slip into that specific state of mind, when something triggers it and I have the urge to burn, everything I just stated becomes void. My mind works against me, and I press the hot blade against my skin. I become both empowered and pathetic at the same time. It doesn't help.

I wish I wasn't the way I am. I wish my head worked right. I don't like being broken. I am disgusted with my appearance, in regards to both my weight and my scars, even though I have a boyfriend that truly does think I am beautiful. I have had strangers tell me I am pretty. Yet when I look in the mirror I see something that isn't there. I see what I really am. A sick girl, that needs help yet refuses it because I fear it. I no longer have control over this.

If you are reading this, if you are considering becoming bulimic or harming yourself because you think that it will help, don't. If you have already started but still have a thread of hope to hang on to, you can still get help. Get out while you can. This isn't a life to live. It doesn't make you happy, it brings nothing but misery and pain into your life. I know the pain this brings. I know what it is like to be hopeless, and I don't want anyone else to suffer. Hopefully someone will see the truth in my words, or will be able to connect in some way and believe me when I say it is not the path to take.

Sincerely,

Chelsea"

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

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”

Share |

Follow on Buzz

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

Share |

Follow on Buzz

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."
________________________________________

Share |

Follow on Buzz

NATASHA'S STORY: "BEFORE TAHAYNA PASSED AWAY SHE SAID TO ME, 'NO MATTER WHAT, STAY STRONG...'"

“No matter what, stay strong. I want you to recover and find happiness. I know you will beat this! If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

It was these words that gave me the strength to fight my disease. A disease that had enmeshed itself within me for far too long; a disease that had robbed me of so much in life; a disease that eventually led to multiple suicide attempts & irreparable damage to my body.

In 2008, my life drastically took a turn for the worst. I felt completely out of control of the situations I was facing at the time. As a result of feeling this lack of control over my life, I developed unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I decided to control every morsel of food that entered my mouth and exercise for hours on end, to numb myself of the emotional pain that was so overwhelming. Soon I was exercising between 3-5 hours and eating as little as 120 calories every day. My diet consisted of lettuce, apples, chewing-gum and cigarettes. These unhealthy behaviours quickly spiraled into Anorexia Nervosa.

In a matter of months, my weight had dropped 25kg. Not only was my blood pressure extremely low and my heart rate 42 bpm, but I also stopped menstruating, and grew a fuzzy coat of lanugo all over my body. My hair started falling out, my skin was dry, my nails, brittle. Electrolyte imbalances posed a threat of sudden death from heart attack, and the damage to my heart and vital organs was extensive. My body was shutting down.

Discharged from hospital in 2008 after being in there for 6 weeks due to complications from anorexia

For so long I had hidden my behaviours from my family and friends, it was my best kept secret. It didn’t take long for the Anorexia to develop into Binge Eating Disorder. After depriving myself for so long, my body hungered for nourishment. Food was the unwanted cure. I tried to fight uncontrollable urges to binge, however my body always won.

I found comfort in food, and turned to bingeing as a way to fill the emptiness inside me, the unexplainable void. A consequential weight gain of 35kgs catapulted me into a severe depression which led to insomnia, isolation, panic attacks, self-harm and multiple suicide attempts.

This lack of control over food had me desperate for a cure, and I soon discovered the art of purging. It seemed a cure-all for my problems at first, but then Bulimia took on a life of its own.

Purging releases 12 neuron chemicals in the brain, including endorphins, which induce a state of numbness and euphoria. Essentially it is a neurological addiction, with the ‘high’ being the same as those experienced by many drug addicts. I found myself doing everything I could in order to achieve the high that purging brings.

Initially, purging had been for me, a way to release my emotions and erase my mistakes. However, it had grown into something entirely different. I needed that high, at a chemical level I was addicted to it. I needed to throw up. Therefore, I needed to eat food so that I could throw it up. In other words, I had gone from believing I was in control, to knowing that without a doubt I was the one who was in fact being controlled.

My health began to deteriorate rapidly. I experienced further heart complications, severe damage to my digestive system, dehydration, tears in my oesophagus and I was throwing up blood. Cue first hospital admission.

Following discharge, I continued to engage in eating disordered behaviour.

In 2010 two tragic events re-shaped my life. I was raped and I lost my best friend, Tahayna, to the same illness that plagued me. After the rape, my Bulimia and Depression worsened to the point where I was purging up to 8 times a day and attempted suicide 17 times.

Recovery was not going to be easy, and I knew that it wasn’t going to happen overnight. It was my friend Tahayna’s choice to recover from her Anorexia that gave me the strength and inspiration to finally recover and beat the illness myself. Alongside Tahayna’s dedication and progress in recovery, her happiness and hope grew incrementally. Seeing her life begin to change in a positive way, inspired me to pursue health as well, and fight as hard as I could to get my life back.

Tahayna was accepted into a treatment programme in London, known as Remuda Ranch. She recovered quickly and was back at home in Adelaide after 6 months. Unfortunately, her body never fully recovered and she was placed on life support. After months of hope for her to get better, doctors said the chances of her body functioning again were very low, so her family decided to turn off her life support and let her rest in peace.

My health continued to deteriorate, and after a check-up with my doctor, he urged me to admit myself into hospital. My family was unaware of my eating disorder at this time so I refused to accept treatment. As fate would have it, my mother found the referral letter for the gastro-oncologist, and put all the pieces together. After she confronted me about it I decided to go ahead with the recommended treatment. I did not want to let Tahayna down. I wanted to recover for her, so at least one of us could make it out alive.

I was admitted into the psychiatric ward at Women’s and Children’s hospital. However, they do not specialise in eating disorders. I have now been accepted into Flinders Weight Disorder Unit which has been acknowledged as one of the best eating disorder clinics in the nation. My team from Flinders are working on a programme to prepare me for my admission, as well as working on improving my mental state, so that I am mentally strong enough to be able to benefit from the admission. In the mean while I am being admitted to the psychiatric and medical ward on a fortnightly basis and am getting rehydrated weekly.

Before Tahayna passed away she said to me, “No matter what, stay strong. I want you to recover and find happiness. I know you will beat this! If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

If it weren’t for Tahayna Jade I would not be in recovery right now. I am so thankful for her presence and impact in my life; the inspiration and strength she has given me. Suffering from an eating disorder has prevented me from achieving so much in life; I have lost my health, relationships, grades and consequently, I may never be able to have children. I refuse to let my eating disorder take away any more from my life. It has caused enough damage.

Recovery takes strength, but I continue to fight every day. I will work to overcome this illness and, eventually, help others suffering from eating disorders. I want to inspire others, just as Tahayna inspired me, and show them that recovery is possible.

Share |

Follow on Buzz

ANN'S STORY: "I’M TRAPPED IN A HIDDEN WORLD; A PART OF ME WANTS TO GET OUT OF IT BUT ANOTHER PART OF ME FEELS LIKE I CAN'T."

"Hi Medusa,

This is very hard for me to do. I am a young girl, about to turn 20, and I have one more year of college to go. I have read your blog for over a year, and truly think the stories you share are wonderful. Therefore, I would like to share my story with you.

I have lived all my life in third world countries. Since I have been 12-13, I have always been in the top 5 % of my class, I have always been the girl organizing social events, doing as much as possible outside school hours and so on. In some way, I always used to do as much as possible. And I still do. I even managed to get into a great college. There has just been one problem in my life: my self-harm and numerous EDs.

What I describe here above was not intended to sound conceited or anything like that. It’s just how many people see me. But, that is not how I would describe myself.

My EDs started when I was 13 and slightly overweight (I weighed 130 pounds at 5'2).

I used to be a ballet dancer, and for the institution I was dancing ballet at, I had to lose weight. Back then, I was too proud to do so, and decided to quit ballet. And here is where everything started.

As I was resentful at the ballet institution for wanting me to lose weight, a Tuesday night after eating a lot of food, I looked at my toilet seat and decided to throw up. I threw everything out. Even nowadays I can remember the blood I puked that one night. But things haven’t been any better since then; I would even say they have gotten a lot worse.

After my second purge, I started to cut myself on my arms. I felt as if my life was a BIG mistake. My parents noticed, and said: "Is everything ok? Do you need more attention?" I told them that everything was OK, and stopped cutting, for a while. I started soon after to cut, but this time, hiding my cuts. And so I went on puking and cutting until I turned 16.

When I was 16, I had actually gained weight (and a lot of it). I weighed 186 pounds at 5'5. And a day at school some guys from the grade above were making a list of "the ugliest girls at school", I got number 3. They hang it in the hallway. I remember all my friends saying stuff like: "Ann u are not ugly! really!!" or "Ann u are not ugly! just a little chubby!!" But I won’t ever forget what it felt like to feel all of people’s stares, and pity. And that’s the day I started losing weight as a crazy: less than 4 months later I was 125 pounds (so I had lost over a 30% of my body weight in just a few months!).

Of course, my parents where thrilled (at first). They had been pressuring me to lose weight ever since my ballet school told me to do so. But when my nutritionist warned them about the excessive amount of weight I had lost (and which was abnormal for that short time period) they started to worry. I even passed out 2 times at school. All of this got my parents to threaten me to send me to an ED institution (even though I was not yet underweight). And again (just like it happened with my cutting habits) I told them it was OK, I would stop losing weight. But of course, I didn’t.

I hold on to that weight (with a few variations for a few months) but then, after a guy I REALLY liked left me for another one, I started losing weight again. I had gotten to 111 pounds in just a month. I remember my intense happiness the day I stepped on the scale to see "111" on the screen. I was 17 going on 18 by that time. And even though I know that intense happiness was wrong, I am almost sure it was the last time I felt really happy.

Now, I'm 19, I weigh almost 145, and have gotten back to my bulimic face. And even with all my ups and down with my weight, my parents don’t seem so concerned. Even with their "threats", they never did. I love my parents, but I wonder whether they haven’t realized during these last 7 years that there was something not right with me, or that they are just too afraid to see.

The worst part is: my dad works for this big worldwide company that fights hunger around the world, and I feel like such a hypocrite for wanting to starve/be thin. I have seen several undernourished kids with my own eyes, and even though I know it’s not healthy, I can’t stop to wish to be so thin that all you can see are bones and skin. I know it’s not right, but I can’t stop loving bones. I feel so tremendously guilty, and yet, I can’t stop. And the worst thing might be the fact that I have never admitted to anyone to have a problem but my best friend (who knows only a short part of the problem).

Many people have confronted me; I always deny it. And believe me when I say I know it’s wrong, but there is something with cutting, stop eating, binging, puking that I need. I would like to not have this, but I can’t stop. And even though I have had many things in life, I still am not happy. People keep on saying how pretty or beautiful I am, how well I've done stuff in my life, and all I do is to question myself to know why I’m still living.... I’m trapped in a hidden world; a part of me wants to get out of it, but another part of me feels like I can’t.

I used to think when I was 16 "this will pass, it’s only a teenager’s thing", but as I’m starting my 20th and many people tell me I act as a much older person, I’m starting to doubt about the end of this. I guess what I want to say is: I have been keeping inside me a huge secret, a secret that still has no ending...

I hope this message isn’t too long, I only want to get better, and I know the right way to do it is to start talking about it. This might be my first attempt to try and get better.

Thanks for your work,

Hugs to all,
Ann"

Share |

Follow on Buzz

LIZA'S STORY: "MY LIFE WAS SAVED BY A STRAY CAT..."

“My life was saved by a stray cat my mum and I saved from the streets...

I have survived every aspect of childhood abuse that began at a very early age and continued for many years. It is impossible for a two-year-old to speak, let alone express and interpret adult emotions.

Internalisation results in repression, self harming and feelings of self worthlessness and most commonly eating disorders that affect MEN and Women.

I have been living with Anorexia Nervosa for 20 yrs and although it did take my life in the year of 2000, I miraculously survived and through music am making a difference in peoples lives. It takes time, perseverance and emotional intelligence but it is possible to reverse these effects with a supportive network of friends, health professionals and people like ourselves who can offer support.

I have now maintained a healthy but low BMI for approximately 3-4yrs. It is similar to diabetes in the way we 'manage it day by day'. It is a miracle that I am here typing and if it weren't for the stray cat my mother and I picked up off the street, I would not be here.

Without going into graphic detail, the day I decided to end my life my cat kept running back and forth to my mother who was sitting in the loungeroom. She knew something was wrong and she found me lifeless, no pulse. I had lost all bodily functions, and she and my father dragged me to the loungeroom for the paramedics.

Mum said it was the first time she had seen my father cry. He was a very sad, mixed-up man and I have no anger towards him at all. I'm not making excuses for him but I know he didn't mean to hurt me as a child; he just didn't know how to show emotion, which is very typical in an 'eating disordered' household. It has taken 17 yrs of therapy to get to where I am today and alot of self determination and hard work.

I was on life support for a short time. Mum didn't come to see me as she knew this would be the last time after countless times of attempting to take my life. I remember waking and the Dr's telling me that I had had 3 seizures.

I am still here and although, since the death of my father in 2006, it has been very hard, I have had only two minor relapses but now have heart irregularities so need to be kinder to myself.

It is very hard when the abuse has stolen your every self-esteem. It stunts your growth in adult life. Having an eating disorder is bad enough as it stunts your social/employment life but with the abuse on top of that it is overwhelming to think about.

I have never shared part of my story publicly or the issues of Dissociative Identity Disorder as a result of major abuse. I'm taking every day as it comes right now. There are so many childhood survivors out there all over the world and if this reaches anyone of you, I hope that you are able to find some inspiration.

I too have told her that I forgive her for not protecting me from another family of perpetrators who were very sick individuals and the worst of all. She says she cannot forgive herself and she has her own issues but will never get help so in a way I feel 'responsible' for holding her up emotionally. The worst of my perpetrators has passed away from a drug overdose and the other two have been in and out of gaol. The youngest also turned up to my high school many years ago now. It was awful. He bragged about what he and his brothers had done and I was teased from the other boys in my class alot.

My ED was triggered at the age of 6 as this was the only reaction I got from my mother and I was diagnosed at 15. By not eating was the only way I could grasp my mother's attention. I learnt that this was the only way I was able to communicate with her.

The repressed anger that I experienced, which later commonly develops into some sort of self-harm, began when I was first abused at the age of two (not perpetrated by my father) I was medicated at the age of 3yrs for 'temper tantrums.' Then, at the age of 6 when my father behaved inappropriately towards me, I was put on an anti-depressant for anxiety and bed-wetting, I also had to have a brain scan for my 'changeable moods'...funnily enough, the scan showed up nothing!

All I can do at times is laugh to get through. I don't know if I have a future but am taking each day as it comes. It all seems like too much so I'm writing alot lately, hoping to get all of this negativity out of my brain.

I am also planning my first student Christmas concert for this year that the owner of the restaurant I play at has so kindly let me use as the venue! How lucky am I!!! This, in a way, is giving me a reason to keep going, living knowing I have my students depending on me for guidance.

I was saved only by a stray cat. If my mum and I hadn't saved her, she would not have been there to save me. Mysteriously, she disappeared a few years later. It makes you wonder if we really do have guardian angels...

I want to use my artistic attributes as a way of advocating the long lasting effects childhood abuse has on adult survivors, men and women.

As an artist/performer, I use art as a ‘voice’, an external instrument to express what I cannot in words. I believe we as artists with common interests can help each other and encourage each other through positive influence.

Apart from freelance photography, I am a classically-trained pianist and teacher. My students age from 5 yrs to 55 yrs; it is never too late to follow a passion. I teach to ‘Motivate, Educate and Encourage’. My students motivate me; they give me a purpose for living life to the full.

I also volunteer at various nursing homes and hostels providing musical entertainment in a therapeutic environment. Apart from performing, I have worked as piano accompanist for various seniors choirs. I have worked in musical theatre and have worked with the Nepean Bell Ensemble, an ensemble of youth and adults with intellectual disabilities.

Having worked as a volunteer in aged care I would also like to advocate the issues surrounding residents such as depression, loneliness and isolation.

Beauty is seeing the smile on the face of a resident at the nursing home who, in a catatonic dementia, clutching a doll they have had since they were 12 years old, momentarily breaks free and begins to sing when I play their favourite song, even if now and then they tell you TO SHUT UP! :)

Beauty is connecting with another person who may not get any visitors because their family and friends have passed on.

I believe you get in life what you give. Grow, follow your dreams and celebrate achievements, big and small. Become involved in your community, volunteer, believe in yourself, have faith and never give up. With our life’s experience we all have so much to offer the world".

‘Breathe to live, not to just exist’.

~ Liza”

Share |

Follow on Buzz

MORGAN'S STORY: "MY WHOLE LIFE I'VE NEVER BEEN 'BLACK ENOUGH' OR 'GOOD ENOUGH...'"

Morgan

“Hi Medusa,

I came across your site and just wanted to share my story with you.

I've been a big girl for as long as I can remember. At my highest weight I was 230 lbs. Looking back on it now, I think I've always had an eating disorder. I remember spending all my free time substituting friendship with food. I was a major binge eater.

I grew up in a complicated situation, my father being of a middle class background, and my mother of the working class. My parents were never married and I lived with my mother. My father exposed me to many different things like Broadway plays, trips to Europe, etc. I've always been torn between two worlds.

I'm a 19 year old African American girl and my whole life I've never been "black enough" or "good enough" to meet anyone's expectations. I didn't have any friends in my neighborhood because I was always accused of "being too white". I also didn't fit in with anyone in my school (being 1 of 2 black children there) because I did not meet their stereotypes.

As I previously stated, I was also a large child. When I went off to college one of my friends there suggested I diet and exercise with her. She also told me about how she went on pro-ana websites and got tips from those girls on how to lose weight fast. I started doing the same thing, and soon found myself being drawn into their world. I found that they could care less about race or background, as long as I could empathize with their struggle to lose weight. As long as I was thin enough. I managed to get down to 103lbs in a little less then a year just by restricting and over-exercising.

Things got worst when I switched campuses and moved in with my best friend who was battling depression at the time. My eating disorder shifted gears. I began binging and purging to compensate for my restriction and my anger at my friend's "control" when her depression took such a toll on her that she slept most of the time and did not bother to eat. She went from a size 12 to a size 8. I went from a size 6 to a size 00.

I was made to go see a psychiatrist, my mother unable to deal with my "white girl issues." My therapist advised I go into treatment, and I began day treatment at the Renfrew Center. My weight went up to 142lbs while I was there. I became so depressed by it that I became suicidal. I began cutting again, something I had not done since I was 13. I attempted suicide 3 times while I was there. Things got so bad that finally they forced me to go into the psych ward and I was made to stay 6 days. During that time I dropped back down to 130lbs, as I would not eat. I was told that I could not go back to the center unless I agreed to do residential treatment. I refused. A week later my mother gave me the ultimatum of either going into residential treatment or being kicked out of the house. I chose to go.

Next week I will begin my stay at residential. I am nervous and afraid. I am no where near underweight. I'm now 132 lbs, my weight having bounced around since I left. I know that a lot of the girls there are very much into their eating disorders, and I worry that I'll come out worse than when I went in. I'm still ambivalent about recovery. Having only gained any semblance of friendship and admiration when I hit my lowest weight to date (via my followers on blogger) I find it hard to even think about recovery. But I suppose that I'm willing to give it a try.

Anyway, that is my story. Thanks for listening.”

Share |

Follow on Buzz

NAOMI'S STORY: "BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN GET OUT OF THIS!"

Naomi

"Hey 2Medusa

I only just found this site tonight but have found so much insight already. These stories are so inspirational to anorexics and I truly understand what they have been through.

I have just recently recovered from an eating disorder myself (never to relapse again as said by my doctors), and have always wanted to change someone’s life with my testimony, so I would be very grateful if you posted this on your site, for I know I have something to give.

My name is Naomi. I am currently 16 years old and my eating disorder didn’t truly start to occur until January 2007. Yeah, I had thoughts of ugliness and being fat before but I never took it on board. It was just a fact about my life.

At the start of year eight I had this journal, barely ever wrote in it but when I did it was about my weight. My first entry at 13 years of age was “...me being so fricking fat...I really want to get down to at least 45kg, and then people might start liking me more. I would have only been 51 at the time but was fairly chubby for my age, just puppy fat, but then there were guys that weighed 10kg less than me and the same age... that really took a toll.

Even though I had this insane hate for myself I didn’t have the willpower to change anything and become skinny. I kept on trying to get skinny, but never could; one time even foretold the future “I’m thinking of not eating too much.”

Well that happened... and so much more that I never would have dreamt of.

At the start of October in 2007 I was 55kg; it was the beginning of term 3 holidays...and the beginning of my worst nightmare... I had decided to eat only healthy foods and start to walk with my mum on an 8km walk. But I wasn’t losing weight so I decided to change everything; I’d start jogging on the spot and ate less straight away.

I couldn’t stand being this fat and I just had to be skinny before going back next term...if I was then people would like me.

I kept on increasing the exercise, doing anything just to lose that extra calorie, the piece of fruit I had just eaten; after I started there was no going back.

My food portions became smaller and soon I was only eating fruit and veg with a tiny amount of cereal in the morning, and the only reason I did this was so I’d have enough energy to do my daily exercise. My 8km walk got cut down to 50min and I would not go out anywhere.

By the end of the holidays I wasn’t skinny enough. It didn’t matter how low I was on the scales, all that mattered now was that I see myself as skinny and look like models you see, but I wasn’t at that, so I decided that by my birthday I would be skinny as them.

At this time I believed there was nothing wrong with me, only that I was fat and ugly. But there was something seriously wrong; I had just started a long painful journey with Ana in my head.

Two days before my 14th birthday I was sent straight to the children’s hospital at Westmead weighing a mere 45kg which I had lost 10kg in just 6 weeks. On admission I had to be warmed up since I was way below the right temperature had a nasal gastric tube shoved down my nose and an ECG where my upper body was stark naked...I’m definite this wasn’t on my mind when I stopped eating.

The rest of my story was basically the same, I shut down in my first admission, and when released after spending Christmas and New Years at the hospital I went extremely well, but the fight wasn’t over yet...far from it.

I was readmitted after refusing food for 3 days straight and just kept on being chucked back in to this place that I believed was a hell hole. This time when I came in it was a competition to be the worst, lose weight on gate passes, eat slowly, exercise in private...anything to prove that you were still ‘sick’ was the thing to do.

For my next five admissions which occurred over a year, the longest being 13 weeks was all just one big blur, but I was definitely not getting better. I was falling deeper into this hole, and could not find my way out.

Everything that could go wrong did. I started to harm myself, I was put in the psych ward, tried to run away a few times, was sedated about two times, had major suicidal thoughts... and actually would have killed myself one night, but could not find a sharp object to do so, and then it was too late to try. And this wasn’t really to do with the eating disorder, I was hiding food, purging, hiding my medication, which I was now on anti-depressants, and every time I was ‘released’ I just starved myself and came back in with a tube up my nose...extreme fun!

After so many years with this dreadful illness I knew there had to be some break, but everyone had no idea how to get me out of this, they tried every way possible and it was up to my willpower now.

I am still amazed at my recovery, same as everyone else is still now. For a week before the major change I was currently in care by parent and I knew I had to get better, at least try and do something... so one night after crying my eyes out I went with my parents and had a creamy pasta dish, something that was forbidden in Ana’s eyes... I was discharged for the last time on July 10 2009.

I had missed out on three years of my life, restricting what I ate, missing the whole of year ten and not having any fun with my friends like any teenager should be able to do without stress. Even now I still miss out on things, like remembering the times of year 10 as well as getting dux which was my dream, not able to wear a bikini because of my scars and still controlling my emotions.

I’m not saying that the road to recovery is going to be easy, it definitely wasn’t for me. Sometimes you start to pull yourself up only to fall back into that deep hole, but you just have to keep on bringing yourself back up and BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN GET OUT OF THIS!!!! Because you CAN and WILL if you just have some faith in yourself.

I am currently sitting here typing this at 58 kilos and 175cm, the highest I have ever been in my life. It is one year after my discharge and I am feeling great and loving life and most importantly myself. Of course I still have thoughts and just yesterday I was going to harm myself again, but I am so much stronger now that I can resist those thoughts. There are still areas to improve on but it definitely gets easier each day.

Thank you 2medusa for taking the time for reading my story and I really hope that you will post this for I am even more inspired to get 100% better by just typing this. I want everyone to know that you make the decision to get through this ugly illness and you only and trust me it is so much better living on the other side.

Thank you so much Medusa

Naomi xoxoxo"

Share |

Follow on Buzz

JESSICA’S STORY: “A NEW HOPE THAT I WILL BE ABLE TO GLUE THE PIECES BACK TOGETHER…”

Beyond Broken by Jessica**

"I’ve been reading your posts for about a year now. I stumbled across your website by typing “pro ana” in Google. I have read many of the stories of others, their recovery and struggles and I never thought I would be one of them. But here I am, in the beginning of recovery from anorexia and bulimia.

I’ve been struggling with anorexia and bulimia for 9 years now. I’m 23 years old. I learnt how to make myself vomit from watching a soap on tv called “Home and Away.” I was 14.

I have been at war with my body since I was 11. I was sexually abused by my former step-father at that age and it went on for 2 years. Before that I was physically and emotionally abused by my father until I was 10. I have forgiven my father for the abuse even though he still denies it ever happened. The abuse, especially the sexual abuse made my very self-conscious and I absolutely hated myself.

My mother was emotionally abusive and made me responsible for my younger brother for the first 3 years of his life. We found out when he was 2 that he had Autism. So the constant stress made me turn to food as a means of control in my very out of control life. I was never fat and was very attractive to boys at my school. But for some reason I felt fat. That was my excuse to lose weight. So I starved, binged and purged my way to self-control and a sense of achievement.

I started cutting myself not long after I turned 14. My mum totally flipped when she saw the marks on my arms. But that didn’t deter me. I just found ways to hide the marks. The cutting got worse during my bouts of anorexia and bulimia. I did it to calm myself, to punish myself, to feel pain and to feel like I still existed. Like the eating disorder, I became addicted and did it on a daily basis.

My mum constantly threatened that if I didn’t eat she would take me to the hospital to be tube fed. That never happened. I became more secretive. I would skip breakfast and lunch, that was easy because I got up before my mum and she couldn’t monitor me at school. I would purge dinner in the shower. In 2006 I took my first of many overdoses. It landed me in the ICU on a respirator to help me breathe. Then I went to the psychiatric ward. That was hell. Every 6 months or so I would overdose again. I wanted to die. I hated my life and myself so much that I just wanted a permanent escape.

I relapsed about a month ago. Eating very little and purging whatever I ate. I lost 5kg in 4 weeks. But something snapped in me for the first time. I knew that if I kept doing this I would die. I don’t want to die. I have goals, aspirations for my life. I want to want to go back to university, finish my degree and then start a course in Veterinary Nursing. I want to get married and have children. I want to give something back to the world.

So I told my step mum and my dad that my eating disorder was back. I took the first step and broke the silence. My parents are wonderful. They have been so supportive. They don’t force me to eat and they make dinners that I’m able to handle and not want to purge. I see a psychologist and a psychiatrist on a regular basis and I’m going to see a dietician next week. I have forgotten how to eat normally. I have this horrible fear of gaining weight. But I know that if I take it one day at a time I will get through this.

I hope [my story] will inspire others to realise that even if you’ve had an eating disorder for so long, you can still overcome it and lead a long, happy life.

Jess"

** ”I created [this picture] a few years ago. It’s called Beyond Broken and at the time it represented a lot to me about how I felt about myself. These days I still feel the same, but I have a new hope that I will be able to glue the pieces back together with the support of professionals, friends and family.”

Share |

Follow on Buzz