Welcome back to the series on eating disorders. If you haven’t read the others, here’s what’s up: A passionate girl named Gabriela approached me and asked me if she could share her story. She is a great advocate for those with mental illness, particularly girls with eating disorders. She is currently in the process of recovering from EDNOS, which means eating disorder not otherwise specified, an eating disorder that does not meet the criteria for: anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, or binge eating. She wants to create an outlet for girls like her and clear any misunderstandings about what they go through. If you are someone with an eating disorder and want to talk to Gabriela, you can contact her on Instagram at @gabrielanadeau. This week’s blog is all about the struggles of recovery and all of the negative thoughts that come along with a mental illness. It’s a tough read but so necessary. People need to know how hard it is to recover and live well. Let me know what you think!
Recovery sucks. Not as much as dying, maybe, but during the whole process you wish you were dead. The part of you that you held so dear is now being called wrong, evil, and grotesque. The best way to put it is a Star Wars analogy. You are Padmé and your eating disorder is Anakin; you love him so much, but he’s evil and choking you and now you’re dead. Also, I feel like I’m pregnant with twins.
I’m getting better physically, but mentally I’m screwed. My brain keeps telling me that I’m fat and ugly, despite the fact I know it isn’t true. I poke my stomach and hate myself. I see my thighs and hate myself. The cycle is continuous self-loathing. I feel like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. Looking at photos online doesn’t help, and neither does the fact that my parents won’t buy me new clothes that fit. I think about suicide all the time. I have to remind myself that one day it’ll all be better, but I’m worried if that’s enough to keep me here.
No one, of course, understands this. They think that I’m a crazy 120 Lb girl. They aren’t entirely wrong. No one gets my troubled relationship with food either. I love food, but I also hate it. I love cooking, baking, and tasting, however, the act of eating scares me like nothing else.
Calories swarm my brain like angry bees, but I have to ignore them to get better. It’s horrifying. I try to get rid of my purging tools but I just can’t, not that I was ever good at it in the first place. I’m sick of hiding bags of vomit in my bathroom.
Recovery is all about rising above but I don’t know if I can, if it’s even possible. I cry too much for it to be healthy and my body aches because of the stress. I try and stay distracted but nothing works. I know I’m supposed to be a recovery warrior, but all I feel like is a fat blob of failure. I just hope that it will all be worth it.