Anonymous Story #10

       I have never had a good relationship with food. Ever since I was little, I was a picky eater. That is most likely why my eating disorder went unnoticed for so long. Not only did everyone around me ignore it, but I ignored it for a long time too. Seeing as I never had a big appetite, it didn't seem serious to me when I started cutting down on my meals. Yet, it was much more than that. Cutting down on portion sizes turned into skipping entire meals, daily. Many people describe their problems as snowballing. Mine was more like an avalanche. Everything was slowly piling up, but I didn't realize it until I was buried. I was in too deep. By the time I grasped how serious my problem was, it was out of my control. I was locked in this mental state that I had no hope of changing by myself. It isn't simply, "Just eat." (words of my mother). It is SO much more than that. I reached out to my best friend for help. It helped until I found out that she was seriously struggling with self injury. All of a sudden I took on all of her problems as well. It took me several months of planning how to tell my mom that I wanted help. Finally, one day while getting ready for school, I had a break down. None of my clothes fit me anymore. My smallest jeans were now too loose on me and I looked ridiculous. I was crying to my mom that I didn't want to go to school because none of my clothes fit. From downstairs, she was yelling at me something about how it was my fault because I don't eat. Then, everything just exploded. I sobbed about what I had been doing for so long and screamed at her for not noticing something was wrong. Do you know what she said to me? No. Quit crying. You don't have an eating disorder. I don't remember what I said to convince her that I did have a problem, but she told me that if I thought I really had a problem that she would take me to the hospital right then and there. I was relieved. Then she did a 180. She suddenly got very angry. She sat me down and made me eat a huge breakfast and said she didn't have time to take me there. She drove me to school with my mascara dripping eyes and my churning stomach. It took her another month and a half to finally get me help. We went to several doctors, each of which suggested to put me into a daily program for my ED. I refused. I put my foot down and flat out said to my mom, "if you try and send me there I will kill myself." After weeks of fighting with my doctors, I had no choice. They admitted me into the hospital as a partial time patient. They told me the average time to stay there was 3 weeks. I stayed eight. On my first day, I was terrified. I had no clue what to expect. I was so shy and didn't know what to expect. It only took me a few days to get adjusted. It didn't take long before EDP became my home. I met some of the most amazing people ever, learned a lot about myself, and most importantly I learned that I'm not alone. On my first day, I couldn't wait to get out of there, but now whenever I drive by, I am dying inside wanting to go back to my safe place. I got discharged from the hospital several weeks ago. At first, things seemed to be getting better. I'm starting to struggle again. I am trying my very hardest not to let ED win again. As temping as it is to give in, I can't let that happen. I have so much to fight for. You do too. Please listen to me. Whether your story is similar to mine or completely different, it doesn't matter because you are beautiful and you deserve to be happy. Things don't get better right away and I didn't expect them to. Just hang in there; we can do it.