How I know I have a problem:
I am never really sure whether I could consider myself to have an eating disorder or not, but there are some times and some things that leave me no doubt that I've at the very least got a very fucked up way of seeing the world.
I want a digestive disorder like the one that's trying to kill my mom. She went from my size to size 2-4 in a matter of months while eating anything she wanted because her body refuses to absorb any of the nutrients. She is always in danger of losing too much weight, of not getting enough nutrients. I can't stand it, it's so unfair. I want it! And I know how horrible that is.
I also fantasize, similarly, about getting a tape worm, or salmonella, or having my jaw broken... I want the control of being able to say no to food myself, but I also want not to be trapped inside of a body that makes me hate every waking moment.
Instead of studying for an exam that I have in 30 minutes, I am writing about this. I can't stop myself from visiting the pro-ana websites I know of, from trolling the forums, from staring at thinspiration (both on the internet and what I've saved to my computer), from posting with people who are just as fucked up (maybe moreso) than I am. I can't afford to fail out of college -- I can't afford not to get an A in my classes this semester. Nevertheless, here I am, writing a blog about this shit instead of studying.
Every time I eat, I feel guilty. I can't pick up anything at the grocery store without checking how many calories it has, how much fat it has. There are many times when I will turn down something I absolutely love because I can't stand to see the small serving size and the huge caloric intake it represents.
I can feel myself getting sucked further into this madness. I took pictures as a benchmark for progress. I didn't like them very much, but there were at least things in them that I could consider redeeming. After a week on the pro-ana forum I'm on, I can't stand to open them again. I know they're hideous. How could I be anything other than grotesque when girls half my weight are still calling themselves fat cows?
I look at pictures of models, pictures of other girls, and there are so few that I would consider "thin." Even the models I used to think were healthy, a nice ideal, have started to look too big. Their thighs are huge, their stomachs ripple... what the fuck is wrong with me when even a perfectly toned size 2 Victoria's Secret model looks fat?
I have a boyfriend, but I can't accept that he actually likes anything about me, personality-wise or body-wise. I know he has porn. I know he thinks other girls are hot. I know both of those are nowhere near matching me in shape or size. I know they have huge breasts and tiny waists and thin thighs, and I have none of those things. This, more than anything else, tears me up. Every single time I think about it, or am made aware of it, I want to just curl up and die. The person who LOVES ME, the person who HAS SEX WITH ME, the person who I am supposed to go to for support -- even HE thinks I am too fat and ugly. Just thinking about this now makes me want to cry.
... I am just so depressed. I don't want to die, I just want to fit in. I am tired of being alone, even when I'm with other people. I'm tired of not having any friends. I am tired of having to make excuses for why I'm so quiet, where I can't say that I feel like shit, I feel like the ugliest person in the world, but I have to say I'm just tired, or I'm distracted, or I'm just thinking about some things. Those are true, too, but I just can't talk to anyone about how badly I feel. I'm afraid it's only going to compound that way.
I feel stupid talking to my psychiatrist. She always seems to be looking down on me. I don't want to take pills -- I don't feel this badly all the time, I really don't! I am not bipolar, even she says so; I just have a "Mood Disorder NOS" which means I'm a self-indulgent basket case who likes to feel sorry for herself sometimes. There's no control there. I can handle this on my own, and pills are only going to make me feel like an even bigger failure.
... I need to lose weight. For two weeks, I have been steadily at 155. Not 155.5, not 154.5 -- I haven't budged so much as a fucking half a pound, up OR down, in TWO WEEKS. Despite restricting. Despite exercising.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?
I want a digestive disorder like the one that's trying to kill my mom. She went from my size to size 2-4 in a matter of months while eating anything she wanted because her body refuses to absorb any of the nutrients. She is always in danger of losing too much weight, of not getting enough nutrients. I can't stand it, it's so unfair. I want it! And I know how horrible that is.
I also fantasize, similarly, about getting a tape worm, or salmonella, or having my jaw broken... I want the control of being able to say no to food myself, but I also want not to be trapped inside of a body that makes me hate every waking moment.
Instead of studying for an exam that I have in 30 minutes, I am writing about this. I can't stop myself from visiting the pro-ana websites I know of, from trolling the forums, from staring at thinspiration (both on the internet and what I've saved to my computer), from posting with people who are just as fucked up (maybe moreso) than I am. I can't afford to fail out of college -- I can't afford not to get an A in my classes this semester. Nevertheless, here I am, writing a blog about this shit instead of studying.
Every time I eat, I feel guilty. I can't pick up anything at the grocery store without checking how many calories it has, how much fat it has. There are many times when I will turn down something I absolutely love because I can't stand to see the small serving size and the huge caloric intake it represents.
I can feel myself getting sucked further into this madness. I took pictures as a benchmark for progress. I didn't like them very much, but there were at least things in them that I could consider redeeming. After a week on the pro-ana forum I'm on, I can't stand to open them again. I know they're hideous. How could I be anything other than grotesque when girls half my weight are still calling themselves fat cows?
I look at pictures of models, pictures of other girls, and there are so few that I would consider "thin." Even the models I used to think were healthy, a nice ideal, have started to look too big. Their thighs are huge, their stomachs ripple... what the fuck is wrong with me when even a perfectly toned size 2 Victoria's Secret model looks fat?
I have a boyfriend, but I can't accept that he actually likes anything about me, personality-wise or body-wise. I know he has porn. I know he thinks other girls are hot. I know both of those are nowhere near matching me in shape or size. I know they have huge breasts and tiny waists and thin thighs, and I have none of those things. This, more than anything else, tears me up. Every single time I think about it, or am made aware of it, I want to just curl up and die. The person who LOVES ME, the person who HAS SEX WITH ME, the person who I am supposed to go to for support -- even HE thinks I am too fat and ugly. Just thinking about this now makes me want to cry.
... I am just so depressed. I don't want to die, I just want to fit in. I am tired of being alone, even when I'm with other people. I'm tired of not having any friends. I am tired of having to make excuses for why I'm so quiet, where I can't say that I feel like shit, I feel like the ugliest person in the world, but I have to say I'm just tired, or I'm distracted, or I'm just thinking about some things. Those are true, too, but I just can't talk to anyone about how badly I feel. I'm afraid it's only going to compound that way.
I feel stupid talking to my psychiatrist. She always seems to be looking down on me. I don't want to take pills -- I don't feel this badly all the time, I really don't! I am not bipolar, even she says so; I just have a "Mood Disorder NOS" which means I'm a self-indulgent basket case who likes to feel sorry for herself sometimes. There's no control there. I can handle this on my own, and pills are only going to make me feel like an even bigger failure.
... I need to lose weight. For two weeks, I have been steadily at 155. Not 155.5, not 154.5 -- I haven't budged so much as a fucking half a pound, up OR down, in TWO WEEKS. Despite restricting. Despite exercising.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?