No one reads this, so...
...I'm going to take the oppurtunity to speak plainly and 'publicly' about what's running through my head. It's a very scary place to live day in and day out. Trust me, you wouldn't like it here.
But if you are reading this, I guess I should warn you: I've been living with an eating disorder for over three years now, and I'm a complete wreck. Don't preach about my stupidity to me-- I'm the choir in this case. I'm very much aware how idiotic and senseless and pointless and 'dramatic' and wrong my actions are. Unfortunately, that is why it's called a mental disorder and not a mental fling.
That aside, I think I have a stomach ulcer. And every time I drink caffeine, I end up doubled over in pain. So now I'm going through caffeine withdraw, as I usually drink more than eight cups of coffee and several energy drinks a day. Actually, that probably explains it... :| I'm more surprised it took me this long to develop said ulcer.
I've also been moronic and mindless abusing laxatives (a pointless endeavour that leads only to water retention and dehydration-- yep), and-- thanks to a triggering inbox message from a friend-- vomiting two or three times a day. Also stupid. I'd kick myself if I thought it would do me any good. Between those three things, I liked it much better when I just didn't eat. Yeah, it landed me a potassium deficiency and near cardiac arrest... But that was a lot less painful then all this. Oddly enough. Between stomach, throat, and ... lower abdominal pains, I'm one ball of pain.
So why the hell do I continue this self-perpetuating cycle?
I'm asking myself and whoever is not reading this. ;)
For anyone wondering whether or not an eating disordered person is unintelligent, attention-whoring, unaware of their problem, or pursuing a vain ideal... No. Well, some of that is up for debate, I guess. But generally speaking, the person is coping. More than that, they are asking for help, possibly from you. You may not even know it. He or she may not be a skeleton. He or she may not say anything on the matter to you. The attempt to physically articulate the idea is still there, though. Often, I have thought, "My body must be my canvas." After years of verbally asking for help, of requesting, crying, screaming, begging, demanding, praying, and pleading for it, it seems I have resorted to a physical means of expressing this need. Truly, I can't even remember what I need help with.
Too many nutrient deprived brain cells, I guess. (...That's probably true, come to think of it.)
I think I'm most sore about how I have actually sought out professional help and have been turned down. I think it's terrible how I've actually been carted down to the ER with an average resting heart rate--for over six hours-- of 170 bpm and have been ignored by my family. (Indeed, it was my 'adopted' family that called the paramedics and sat with me for five hours in the ER. No one bothered calling my relatives, and when I wandered in at 3 AM with my ER papers in hand, no questions or worry arose. Wooooohoo.) I think it's horrible to firmly believe I couldn't successfully complete treatment because my family would be too busy calling me a drama queen to support me.
I think it's despicable how millions of others are suffering from this, and they are being called drama queens or sissy boys or whiny brats or vain, self-centered idiots.
Fueling the problem, Dear Reader, does not make it go away. It does make the afflicted individual more likely to hide it, though. If you like the wool pulled over your eyes and a world of ignorant bliss, point an accusing finger at a sick person and call her greedy.
Also, on a random note, don't say I'm beautiful. Don't tell a person with an ED, "Why do you do this? Don't you know guys don't find skinny girls attractive?" or, "You're beautiful. You don't need to change yourself," or, "You're so vain." Thinness, looks, mirrors... It's all superficial. A surface mask to hide the deeper hurts and motives. And there are so many facets... The reflection is a measuring tool. The scale, the inches, the numbers... All just means to give life and substance to a very internal and intangible problem. If you ever want to help, you have to dig deeper than that.
Would you dig deeper?
But if you are reading this, I guess I should warn you: I've been living with an eating disorder for over three years now, and I'm a complete wreck. Don't preach about my stupidity to me-- I'm the choir in this case. I'm very much aware how idiotic and senseless and pointless and 'dramatic' and wrong my actions are. Unfortunately, that is why it's called a mental disorder and not a mental fling.
That aside, I think I have a stomach ulcer. And every time I drink caffeine, I end up doubled over in pain. So now I'm going through caffeine withdraw, as I usually drink more than eight cups of coffee and several energy drinks a day. Actually, that probably explains it... :| I'm more surprised it took me this long to develop said ulcer.
I've also been moronic and mindless abusing laxatives (a pointless endeavour that leads only to water retention and dehydration-- yep), and-- thanks to a triggering inbox message from a friend-- vomiting two or three times a day. Also stupid. I'd kick myself if I thought it would do me any good. Between those three things, I liked it much better when I just didn't eat. Yeah, it landed me a potassium deficiency and near cardiac arrest... But that was a lot less painful then all this. Oddly enough. Between stomach, throat, and ... lower abdominal pains, I'm one ball of pain.
So why the hell do I continue this self-perpetuating cycle?
I'm asking myself and whoever is not reading this. ;)
For anyone wondering whether or not an eating disordered person is unintelligent, attention-whoring, unaware of their problem, or pursuing a vain ideal... No. Well, some of that is up for debate, I guess. But generally speaking, the person is coping. More than that, they are asking for help, possibly from you. You may not even know it. He or she may not be a skeleton. He or she may not say anything on the matter to you. The attempt to physically articulate the idea is still there, though. Often, I have thought, "My body must be my canvas." After years of verbally asking for help, of requesting, crying, screaming, begging, demanding, praying, and pleading for it, it seems I have resorted to a physical means of expressing this need. Truly, I can't even remember what I need help with.
Too many nutrient deprived brain cells, I guess. (...That's probably true, come to think of it.)
I think I'm most sore about how I have actually sought out professional help and have been turned down. I think it's terrible how I've actually been carted down to the ER with an average resting heart rate--for over six hours-- of 170 bpm and have been ignored by my family. (Indeed, it was my 'adopted' family that called the paramedics and sat with me for five hours in the ER. No one bothered calling my relatives, and when I wandered in at 3 AM with my ER papers in hand, no questions or worry arose. Wooooohoo.) I think it's horrible to firmly believe I couldn't successfully complete treatment because my family would be too busy calling me a drama queen to support me.
I think it's despicable how millions of others are suffering from this, and they are being called drama queens or sissy boys or whiny brats or vain, self-centered idiots.
Fueling the problem, Dear Reader, does not make it go away. It does make the afflicted individual more likely to hide it, though. If you like the wool pulled over your eyes and a world of ignorant bliss, point an accusing finger at a sick person and call her greedy.
Also, on a random note, don't say I'm beautiful. Don't tell a person with an ED, "Why do you do this? Don't you know guys don't find skinny girls attractive?" or, "You're beautiful. You don't need to change yourself," or, "You're so vain." Thinness, looks, mirrors... It's all superficial. A surface mask to hide the deeper hurts and motives. And there are so many facets... The reflection is a measuring tool. The scale, the inches, the numbers... All just means to give life and substance to a very internal and intangible problem. If you ever want to help, you have to dig deeper than that.
Would you dig deeper?