they dont know nothing about redemption, they dont know nothing about recovery
recovery
its a new road for me. its hard, but its getting easier. i thought when i started eating id keep gaining weight till i was some terrible normal number, but ive stayed fairly thin at a steady 107 pounds. i think im ok with that. my boyfriends helped alot, he tells me he likes the way i look now much better, its more attractive, says i look hotter. i feel hotter, i feel more like a woman. its not a terribly scary feeling. sure i still think my arms are fat, think my tummys a little bloated, hate when i cant fit into old jeans. but im living with it, im coping, im not as scared as i used to be.
when this nightmare began to take hold of me, i was searching for something to give me refuge, some outlet to express my darkest of emotions. the pain of my depression slowly enveloping me, over takeing me, i wanted something to focus on. i wanted some new way to hurt myself, because i hated myself. it was there in this dark hour the disease found me, wrapped its arms around me and whispered in my eager ears telling me there is a way i can have strength and control. a process in which i can torture myself and make myself better in my eyes.
the struggle began, and i began to lose myself more and more. it was so painful, physically and emotionally. i was never good enough, i could never work hard enough. every bite was failure, every pound was failure. i was a failure. i was frail and so tired, my entire body hurt all i wanted was to sleep all the time. the headaches were unbareable, the dizzy spells embarrising.
i thought i had more control over my life. i could distract myself with numbers and facts and what i ate and what i will eat tomorrow and the next day, or rather what i wouldnt eat. i didnt see that the illness had consumed me body and mind and made me its slave. nothing was enough to convince me to stop, not watching my best friend deterioate before my eyes, not watching my family get ripped apart, losing my friends, failing in school, losing myself. i knew all the risks, i knew all the things that could happen to me and i welcomed them with open arms. getting sicker ment that i was working hard. it ment i was one of the elite, strong enough to reach my goal even as my body protested with all its might, threatening death. i had brought myself face to face with my own mortality, and i was dangerously unafraid. the emptiness consumed my thoughts, i craved flavor, anything aside the taste of water and lettuce. i felt hopeless and worthless. i felt like giving up. nothing was able to change me, until now. until i met this wonderful boy named mike, only then was i able to find things i loved about myself. in the end i was serching for someone to give me a reason to change, and no reason in this world was enough until i found mike and began to have hope. ive begun actually planning my future, for it is so near now. things are looking brighter. there are always troubles and conflicts but i have been able to overcome the obsticles. I want people to learn from my struggle. i want them to know this illness wasnt a cry for help from a selfish teenage girl, this was a demon that lived inside my mind, feeding off my soul, devouring me from the inside out. i didnt bring it upon myself, it found me when i was vulnerable. it was never about the numbers, the food, my body, it was about my mind my spirit my world. it was the illustration of the emotional pain i endured for 5 long years. it was dibilitating, keeping me from living. i lost everything i used to have but ive gained understanding, i have a new life now. i dont know if the little voice in the back of my head telling me im weak and fat will ever leave me but i do know that this time i really do have control and strength, because now i am strong enough to say no to that voice. i am strong enough to walk through this world without clutching my security blanket named bulimia. i think i might just make it in this world after all.
its a new road for me. its hard, but its getting easier. i thought when i started eating id keep gaining weight till i was some terrible normal number, but ive stayed fairly thin at a steady 107 pounds. i think im ok with that. my boyfriends helped alot, he tells me he likes the way i look now much better, its more attractive, says i look hotter. i feel hotter, i feel more like a woman. its not a terribly scary feeling. sure i still think my arms are fat, think my tummys a little bloated, hate when i cant fit into old jeans. but im living with it, im coping, im not as scared as i used to be.
when this nightmare began to take hold of me, i was searching for something to give me refuge, some outlet to express my darkest of emotions. the pain of my depression slowly enveloping me, over takeing me, i wanted something to focus on. i wanted some new way to hurt myself, because i hated myself. it was there in this dark hour the disease found me, wrapped its arms around me and whispered in my eager ears telling me there is a way i can have strength and control. a process in which i can torture myself and make myself better in my eyes.
the struggle began, and i began to lose myself more and more. it was so painful, physically and emotionally. i was never good enough, i could never work hard enough. every bite was failure, every pound was failure. i was a failure. i was frail and so tired, my entire body hurt all i wanted was to sleep all the time. the headaches were unbareable, the dizzy spells embarrising.
i thought i had more control over my life. i could distract myself with numbers and facts and what i ate and what i will eat tomorrow and the next day, or rather what i wouldnt eat. i didnt see that the illness had consumed me body and mind and made me its slave. nothing was enough to convince me to stop, not watching my best friend deterioate before my eyes, not watching my family get ripped apart, losing my friends, failing in school, losing myself. i knew all the risks, i knew all the things that could happen to me and i welcomed them with open arms. getting sicker ment that i was working hard. it ment i was one of the elite, strong enough to reach my goal even as my body protested with all its might, threatening death. i had brought myself face to face with my own mortality, and i was dangerously unafraid. the emptiness consumed my thoughts, i craved flavor, anything aside the taste of water and lettuce. i felt hopeless and worthless. i felt like giving up. nothing was able to change me, until now. until i met this wonderful boy named mike, only then was i able to find things i loved about myself. in the end i was serching for someone to give me a reason to change, and no reason in this world was enough until i found mike and began to have hope. ive begun actually planning my future, for it is so near now. things are looking brighter. there are always troubles and conflicts but i have been able to overcome the obsticles. I want people to learn from my struggle. i want them to know this illness wasnt a cry for help from a selfish teenage girl, this was a demon that lived inside my mind, feeding off my soul, devouring me from the inside out. i didnt bring it upon myself, it found me when i was vulnerable. it was never about the numbers, the food, my body, it was about my mind my spirit my world. it was the illustration of the emotional pain i endured for 5 long years. it was dibilitating, keeping me from living. i lost everything i used to have but ive gained understanding, i have a new life now. i dont know if the little voice in the back of my head telling me im weak and fat will ever leave me but i do know that this time i really do have control and strength, because now i am strong enough to say no to that voice. i am strong enough to walk through this world without clutching my security blanket named bulimia. i think i might just make it in this world after all.