Personal Experience with ED
I was 15 when I first developed anorexia nervosa, and it has never really gone away. Currently, I am relapsing. Bad. This disease has gotten far worse than how it ever was when it first began over three years ago. I'm making this blog post as a catharsis, and as a way to maybe make someone feel less alone. I do not endorse nor encourage ED.
I am petite, and have always been that way. Until high school, I was just under five foot with some baby fat; I was a kid in every sense. My eighth grade year, I began scrutinizing my weight. I observed my body with such new attention, as I had discovered many new procedures that would be able to remove and transform the parts I had always been in discomfort with. I wondered why I couldn't just have everything I needed in that moment. I fantasized about the body I wanted, and how easy it would have been if I had been placed in the right physical form. I thought I was fat: I was 125 lbs.
My freshman year of high school is a breeze. I meet lots of new friends. I develop a hefty crush on a boy in my grade. I am eating every meal, and then some. Things are going swimmingly. I knew I was healthy: I was 120 lbs.
Sophomore year quickly approaches. My scheduled lunch was at 10am. I found it too easy to skip lunch, and binge when I get home. I ate breakfast every morning, and lunch every evening. The boy I had feelings for became more apparent. I wanted to impress him. I stop eating breakfast. I count every calorie. He gets his license, and he drives me around all night on the last day of school. I confide in him that I have been keeping track of what I eat, trying to eat less than 1200 calories a day. It was to lose weight. He supports me in my weight-loss journey. I join a gym, and go there frequently. I thought I was making progress: I was 118 lbs.
Junior year begins. Summer makes it so easy to skip meals. I tell my friends that I've been eating less than 1000 calories a day, and working out. I am getting stronger. They commend me on my ability to stay motivated. In the winter, I get my heart broken by the boy who I've been in love with since I met him my freshman year. I admitted my feelings to him in his car, and he apologised. I felt beautiful: I was 101 lbs.
I become depressed, and gorge. I eat because I am so sad. I eat every meal to comfort the emptiness I feel inside. I felt alone: I was 110 lbs.
Senior year has a rocky start. I almost drop out of school. I get a roommate to share everything I own with. I felt hated, betrayed. I get a better control on my emotions. I apologise. I thank. I focus on my art, and complete huge paintings. I get a boyfriend in the grade below me. I am proud of myself. I am healthy: I am 115 lbs.
I complete my portfolio. I get a 100% in my career and technical area for my last year. I spend time with my friends and boyfriend that I love and adore unconditionally. I say my goodbyes. I graduate. My loved ones are so proud. I am healthy: I am 115 lbs.
It's the summer. School is done. Forever. I'm getting along a bit better with my roommate. I work even less than I did during school. Then, I quit my job. I stay up until early morning. I sleep in until 5pm, most days. I am constantly tired. Even with 12 hours of sleep, I take naps in between. I eat a small meal, once a day. I constantly tell my boyfriend that I am fat. He tells me I am so beautifully thin, too thin. I am fragile. He is well aware of my ED. One day after having sex, I look in the mirror. My abs looked toned because there was no fat to hide them. You could see my ribs. I smile, and tell my boyfriend. He asks how much I am eating. I lie and tell him twice a day. He doesn't believe me. Neither of us have brought it up since. Constantly I feel my guts vibrating from hunger. I sleep off any desire to eat until my mom makes dinner. At least once a week I gorge, and feel horrible about it. I feel obese, and fat, and ugly. I lack the motivation to move. I need to be thinner: I have no idea how much I weigh.