Well... here it goes.
My whole life I've been told that I'm pretty. And my whole life I never believed anyone... I don't know why, I just didn't see it. And we're talking like preschool/kindergarten age here. I used to scratch my inner thighs, where I wished there was no fat... so that they would be a straight line when I sat down and not go out to the sides or whatever. So I guess thats's really when the whole self harm thing started.
Freshman year in high school is when I really started cutting... I did it on my hips. I also gained a lot of weight that year. I would run downstairs and sneak something to eat every time I was home alone. Sophomore year I transferred high schools and my eating went back to somewhat normal, I mean, I always had days I would skip meals even earlier on. By the middle/end of that year I started cutting down. It got to the point where I was having coffee for breakfast, a bottle of water for lunch, an apple after school, and dinner only on some days. By junior year I had transferred back to my old high school. I know Tuesday's my dinner was weight control oatmeal, Wednesdays was Special K cereal, and Thursdays was a lo-carb monster energy drink. Even before this I would go out with "friends" on weekends and I would say we were getting dinner, that money usually went to tanning.
When I was 17 year old (Senior in high school, it was still October, Columbus Day to be exact) is when I was diagnosed. Now, I had been sent to doctors before that and they had told me to gain weight but I kept loosing and at this point was 96 pounds (I took weight lifting and I think the only reason I really dropped below 100 was because of loosing muscle weight over the summer). I was happy with my body and didn't think I could even loose anymore. I never thought I would be that low. I'm only 5'2" so it really isn't all that bad.
I should probably mention that the cutting stopped when I started to loose weight. And during junior year people would say things to the school nurse about me being anorexic and people where always concerned and asking my parents if I was okay. I still didn't eat breakfast, but I did start eating more at school. I went from a 100 calorie slim fast bar, to a reduced fat peanut butter sandwich and an apple. Still, having an entire bottle of water. I was still loosing, I stopped worried so so much about what I was eating. If I worked out a lot that day and hadn't eaten, I might make no-pudge brownies for the family that night... I really felt amazing. I was eating healthy... but... I dunno.
I lost my period beginning of my junior year... well beginning/middle. My belief is that I only got it so early in life (age 12) because I was always a little on the heavier side and that if I haden't been I would've been one of those girls who gets it later on. Plus, I was very physically active. Not having my period wasn't a concern to me. I know my body. And my body just wasn't ready for it. But that was once of the main reasons for my parents concern.
So back to Columbus Day, 2008. D-Day. I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and put into the treatment program at the hospital. It was once every other Thursday. I met with a doctor, a nutritionist, and a "therapist". I really only saw the therapist once because she was leaving and I dunno it was a whole mess because why put my with her knowing she was leaving? Anyway, she made me draw a tree, a house, and a person. Each in black and white and in color. I can't draw. I'm famous for my stick figures, stick dogs, stick pigs, ect. But with the colors I felt weird making a blue or orange stick figure, so I put a colored dress on her... you know, the triangle dress but still a stick figure. Man, did I get shit for that. I just can't draw you stupid twat! Get over it!
The nutritionist, was an asshole. I hated her, still do. She was no help, didn't tell me what to expect, didn't tell me I would gain extra weight and then loose some and get back to my set point, didn't tell me my stomach might feel bloated in the process. All she told me was to eat more. And if I wasn't gaining weight, they were doing to take dance away from me.
Let's get something straight. Dancing did not cause ANY of this. As you can see I had issues long before I began dancing. Dance is the ONLY reason I am alive right now. It's the ONLY thing that ever kept me from killing myself, and still is.
So I felt trapped. I thought I was okay with gaining some weight, because I figured it would be mostly muscle, I figured that would kind of happen on it's own once I got back into weight lifting. Of course, I had health first semester, so that didn't happen. Anyway, I was miserable. I felt disgusting, I really started losing all my friends, I was always in fights with my mom. I would show up to dance every other Thursday in tears... full on tears. And no one said anything, they just let me dance it out, which is all I really needed. They knew shit was going on but they weren't going to ask.
My 18th birthday was on a Thursday... one of the weeks I had to go to the hospital. My mom felt really bad and so she said I didn't have to go on my birthday. Thank God. And I never went back. Being 18, it was my decision.
In February I got sick and was out of school/dance for a few days or a week. I don't remember. But when I was better, I realized I couldn't get into my jeans. They had been getting tight in the previous months, but where still wearable. I was so depressed. I wore sweats and hoodies and everything baggy. I felt huge and gross. I cried all the time. It was really bad. Looking back, I wasn't big. But I felt it. My stomach felt huge and I couldn't stand it.
That summer, I had my first trip to the gynecologist. They wanted me to get my period back. I knew my body wasn't ready for it. I knew I had gained plenty of weight for my period to come back and it would just take time. But no. I had to get it before I went away to college. I was given medroxyprogesterone. I read the side effects, not only do you get your period in 7 days (no joke, you get it 7 days on the dot) but weight gain is also a side affect. I threw the mother of all bitch fits. Crying, screaming, refused to go home, drove around for hours, went to the dance studio... it was bad.
So my senior year into my first year of college I guess I kind of got to a "set weight". I don't know what it was. Probably 107-110ish. I hated it. I wore cargo pants instead of jeans all the time. I haden't been close shopping (and still haven't).
Now I'm in college. Okay. My first semester was hell. I basically didn't have a roommate, I had to dance at a studio 10 minutes off campus, I didn't make any friends let alone meet anyone, I was 4 hours from home, I was lonely. I think that's when the over-eating because of onliness really started. I mean, I know it did. I sucked at taking care of myself. Like really sucked. I think my weight stayed in around the same range though. Possibly a little more, I dunno. It fluctuated but not a huge deal. I know when they were making me gain in treatment senior year I would occasionally snack when I was upset. Anyway, that went to a whole new level. But I transferred after the first term.
I loved my new school. Got to be a dance major. Started dating my first boyfriend (didn't last long). I was loving life. I was meeting people, a lot of people I hung out with were through my boyfriend... and then I had a few friends of my own. I really started restricting more when I got here, and exercising at least once a day, every morning. This is also when I started really having all of those insomnia issues. I still felt pretty gross. I was around 107ish.
By that spring I got so tired of feeling fat. I started with the diet pills. I didn't eat for about a week and was having slenderize fuze, maybe some fruit, and a bunch of diet pills. This all on top of the gym and dancing. I got down to 103. I knew what I was doing was bad for me. I knew it was wrong. But I felt so much better, so much happier.
My mom found some of my diet pills. She made me get rid of them and whatever... I was told if I ever drop too much weight I can't go back to school. It was fine. I got back to school... felt like I was gaining weight, didn't like the amount I was eating. I got more pills. I was probably back to 107-110... maybe even a few pounds higher.
Well... that summer, my mom went through my trash can and tapped together a ripped up receipt. For diet pills. She brought me to Renfrew. They wanted me in their IOP program. I wanted nothing to do with it. And being 19, it was my decision. I should probably also mention that I weighed about 120 this summer. I found out at a trip to the gynecologist where she was proud of me for gaining weight. I was not. I almost punched her in the face. I believe my exact words to her when she asked me why I wasn't happy about all of this were "You just called me fat and I'm bleeding from my vagina! Of course I'm not happy!" I also had a cold that day. I was a wreak when I found out I was 120. I hadn't been that high in years. Everyone was telling me I looked great, I looked "healthy". I hate that. It's just a nice way to say fat.
So anyway, I turned down Renfrew... but my mom wanted something to be done and I ended up in therapy. It was that solution based therapy. Basically I am allowed to be 100 pounds, but any lower and I will get sent back to therapy or pulled out of school. I said I wanted my range to be 100-103. I would settle for 104 when , and only when on my period. Anyway, she said 100-103 was odd... so she made it 100-105. I was aloud to loose weight because she knew that was the only way I would be happy with my life. My mom came in and also agreed to this.
Wow. I'm like, about to cry right now. So anyway. sophomore year my best friend was gone, he moved to another country. I lost touch with everyone else because we were no longer in a dorm together. I had roommate issues, was really sick all the time, my period began getting worse and worse every time I got it to the point that I would be throwing up because of it. I gained weight. A lot. Too much. It's nearing the end of my junior year. I still haven't lost it. I feel disgusting. I hate myself more than ever. The cutting started up again in college... moving to the wrists, by the way. It just gets worse every day.
And on top of it, this year, my best friend has been losing weight. She looks amazing. I feel like she's smaller than me now and it kills me. She's becoming more confident, I can tell. And here I am... popping pills, overexercising, and still eating because I'm lonely. I just don't know how to make it stop. I don't trust therapists because I was traumatized after treatment the first time and the second time (and third I went myself twice sophomore year at school) proved to be of no help. Therapy the summer before my sophomore year she changed my diagnosis to EDNOS. She also thinks I may have seasonal affect disorder. I try not to let anyone know how depressed I am. None of these people know about the cutting. My parents saw a cut on my arm this past summer and asked me. My mom wants me to get help still. But I just can't bring myself to do it. I want to crawl into a cave for three months with no food and just get back to a weight I'm happy at. Any weight I'm happy at. I haven't seen a scale in almost two years. I feel like I just get fatter every day. It's all I can ever think about. I'm so over this. All of it.
Ugh. Okay... well that's my story, more or less. This is starting to get really hard to talk about/think about any more so I'm gonna wrap it up.