Tag Archives: eating disorder

Exposed: My Story (Update Nov. 19, 2014)

Eating. Drinking. Smoking. Snorting. Weighing. Hurting. Burning. Cutting. Starving.
Purging. Praying. Stripping. Weighing. Binging. Dying.

These are words are verbs, actions. These words are not who I am, but things I have done. These things don’t make up a person or even describe a person. They are things that people DO. Why? For myself it is how I survived in the world starting in my very late teen years. These things were my way of living, dying, punishing, forgetting, numbing, functioning and coping. These are my sanctuary, my safety and at the same time, a double-edged sword that was jabbing away at my soul, my spirit and my life. (Read full story)

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Do you see this little girl?

945971_10151874063161477_2020789806_nLook at this little girl, the silly smile on her face
see her tiny dimples, and sunglasses perfectly in place
She’s only a young toddler, the entire world before of her
But if you knew the road ahead, your heart would become heavier

Do you see this little girl, innocent and small?
Her parents love all of her as they watch her learn to crawl.
She’s only a few years old, but has an old soul
Always laughing and playing, her future still untold

You focus on her smile and the light in her eyes
It’s hard to believe years down the road a darkness will rise
You couldn’t see the shadow, even if you wanted to
Inside this little girl, a disease began to grow

She will be bullied and taunted, pushed and shoved
Her heart will shrink and she’ll feel unloved
Her once loud laughter will shrink down to silence
Her bright smile will fade, and she’ll meet quiet violence

People won’t hear her, so she’ll turn inward with her pain
What used to beam sunshine, only storms inside and rains
Her hope will begin to dwindle as she slowly slips away
But it’s only going to get darker, from glitter to gray

She will find her way to fit in after yearning to be wanted
She takes her first sip of alcohol, takes sobriety for granted
Turning into the life of the party, she’s the center of all the jokes
She just wants to be loved, but people prod and poke

She’ll give up on trust and love by the time she’s nineteen
When a man twice as old as her gets on his knees
Her voice is gone, she can’t make a sound as she sits paralyzed
She turns to stone, gives him his way, and inside breaks and cries

By now she’s lost her faith in God and turns to worship booze
Now an alcoholic, she’s lost her ability to choose
Not long from now, it won’t be enough as she rolls a dollar bill
She’ll snort away her problems, as heroin moves in for the kill

Nothing takes away her despair, her stomach full of guilt
She throws up her food, her shame, the life she could have built
When puking isn’t enough, and starvation is the only way
She turns her brokenness inward, stops eating and fades away

Once a healthy baby girl, she is dying inside and hopeless
No matter how much weight is lost, all she see’s is ugliness
She screams and yells, but no one else can hear
So she runs to the blade and she slices and tears

This little girl, now 21, is hollowed out and empty
This shell of a woman, no where to go, steps on the stage for money
Do you see this dancing girl, a friendless and pained daughter
There’s no way out she’s become her own slaughter

Now rewind time, back inside the playpen, look at the girl there
You wouldn’t know by looking, but you can see me if you stare.
You see, I am this little girl, now grown up and fighting to live
While I can’t protect her, I can try to help her forgive

Nothing could have prepared her for the broken road ahead
But she needs you here, she needs you now, because she’s not yet dead
Listen to the little girl, and when she asks hold her hand
Because I am her, all grown up, and still need help to stand

March 31, 2014

Sometimes I want to take my hand, shove it down my throat, into the heart that barely beats in captivity. I want to grab and squeeze the disease that imprisons me, barely breathing after it has sucked out my life. This is despair. Fear. Agony.

I want to rip the life from the flesh-eating disease that possesses my body. I want to fight, but then I can’t breathe and I’m tired. Please, just make it stop. I want to squeeze the life out of the disease that starves me. It’s like I’m buried alive inside of this body, screaming to get out but no one can hear because the dirt fills my mouth. Because this demon waits until I am out of breath. And when you ask, it whispers: “I’m fine.”tumblr_n3czsvNqk11twwxf2o1_500

2 years later – Still breathing, still fighting

Hello my fellow friends, bloggers, readers, warriors! I have been absent lately; but I decided to sign in and check in on my lovely little page, and I found that I had some messages, new followers, and kind words. I was very dedicated to this when I first got sober, and life took over, then rehab happened, and then life took over again. But, I’m happy to share that on January 1, 2014, I celebrated 2 years sober. This is so exciting.

While the first year mark is a big hoo-haaa, this year was more quiet, but meaningful. In fairness to myself and my followers, I have much to update and hopefully, I will be posting regularly once again. In the past six months, prior to my silence on here, I managed to get a new sponsor, re-work my fourth step (currently still working on this), enroll back to school to work toward my masters degree in mental health psychology (I will one day be a masters level licensed drug/alcohol counselor), have lost several sponsees, but have gained new relationships, and to date, I just recently filed a resume and cover letter for two different rehab focused job positions. I must wait and practice patience for potential interviews, so fingers crossed.

I still struggle with my anorexia and OCD. It’s weird saying those things because I have blocked off the terminology for so long because it reminds me that I have an illness I must not give up on. Recovery has ups and downs, setbacks, triumphs. And it’s okay. I’m not perfect, so far from it, but I am grateful and a work in progress.

For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.

– Philippians 1:6

Can you hear me??

I’m honestly sick and tired of feeling unheard. Can you please just stop and listen, hear what I am saying? Can you just STOP and LISTEN?

Lately I have been feeling ignored or unheard. I’ve been trying to say no, or set specific boundaries with my treatment team. And I just feel like no one is listening to what I am actually saying. Sometimes, I simply don’t want to be weighed. Sometimes, I just want to share that I had a slip, without writing out a chain about why it happened and what I could do differently. It just happened. Okay? All I wanted was to be honest, be heard, and move on. But lately all I feel like is a patient, or test subject, or even like I don’t have a voice anymore and I am getting so upset about it I keep crying.

Seriously — I’m human and I am in recovery from a damn eating disorder. That includes slips. Sometimes, I don’t want to break every single piece of that behavior down. I just wanted to not feel alone in the fact that I messed up. Just listen.

To be honest, I’m not reluctant to even share anything related to my eating disorder because it feels like it always backfires. Do this, do that, how do you feel? Well — I feel like shit to be honest. Even writing this I feel like I am not going to be able to stop crying. I feel like I’m going to cry and cry, and I’m getting so angry and frustrated that I need to scream. And if I scream, it’ll come out silent.

We are at war

There seems to be a lingering sadness that revolves around the confusing and gripping reality of eating disorders. The truth behind the baffling disorder leaves many of us stumped, scratching our heads wondering why? Or how does something like anorexia or bulimia root into our minds or bodies, that stimulates a false image and drives us to starve ourselves or binge or purge?

When I was at the worse my anorexia was, I was unable to eat and if I had anything in my system, even if just water or diet soda, I was forced to make myself purge. Human beings were not created to destroy our bodies and yet, for most of us, it’s the only way we survive, cope with life, or manage things.

We often go cross-eyed over the data and facts but when we stop and simply look at who is suffering from such an addiction you can’t help but plea, why can’t you just eat? Can you please stop making yourself throw up? I often ask myself why can’t I see my body how you see it? Why can’t I stop obsessing over calories and weight? Then you look again at the young woman or man starving themselves to death and it’s your daughter, it’s your mother, it’s your sister, it’s your friend, it’s your brother, your father, you cousin, your son. Or– It’s you.

It’s a very confusing thing – banging our heads against the wall, wanting answers, wanting cures. But there’s no clear way to know how to approach this. I’ve been fighting this for years, relapsed many times, have had slips, and managed long-term months of sobriety from my eating disorder. But it always comes back to why can’t I stop?

While looking around on my blog, I came across this advocate blog from the perspective of a man who fought anorexia. The insight is wonderful and there needs to be more education on the truth that eating disorders don’t discriminate. The only answer I can assure anyone is that people ARE fighting. People are fighting back. People are pulling together and going to war against a monster that destroys lives in an effort to regain those lives.