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Just one-third cup of food three times a day...
Plus an hour of extreme cardio every single day...
For a year and four months.
This. Was. My. Hell.
I was obese. I'd struggled with binge eating since I had been five to six-years-old. I was 15, 258 lbs, and I'd had ENOUGH of being fat.
It started as a simple diet. It started healthily. Within 30 days it turned into obsession.
I was just 15. Other teenagers were having fun while I was killing myself.
An "eating disorder" isn't a choice it's a mental illness. And it's MF lethal. I'd like the term reclassified—we don't call depression a "suicide disorder" or a "no motivation to get out of bed disorder" those are symptoms.
The eating is a SYMPTOM of an eating disorder. Mentally it's the hateful chatter, the OCD perfectionism, the self-loathing, the second voice in your head, the distorted view, the obsession ... And a million other things.
The suffering is real. The numbers are HIGH. You probably know someone who is currently struggling and you can't even tell.
In college, I had a ton of people in my class talk to me because I was open about my struggles. They'd tell me they suffered too. No one would have ever guessed.
It's eating disorder awareness week, so let's be really f***ING aware that this horrible shit is affecting people, killing people, and we can help if we know what to look for.
This photo makes me uncomfortable. It makes me sad and angry.
Dan and I had just started dating. It should've been a time to fully embrace blossoming love. Instead, I was so preoccupied with how I looked, I felt so f***ing fat even though you could count my ribs, that most of my attention was there.
It makes me uncomfortable because I looked so sickly. It makes me uncomfortable because, for years afterward, I'd look longingly at the photo wanting to reclaim that size.
I could fit into a 00—yes a DOUBLE ZERO, and I still felt huge.
I had body dysmorphia. I'd been obese all of my life and my brain couldn't accept that I no longer was. Losing over 100 pounds through anorexia warped my mind.
I'd get on the scale 20-30 times a day.
I was so obsessed.
I want to go back in time and tell that girl to stop worrying.
I want to tell her that her dreams come from pursuing happiness, not denying it.
I want to tell her not to worry.
I want to tell her to enjoy those precious moments of youth.
I can't go back in time, but I can help others NOW. I can help spread awareness. I can help by sharing my story.
My book, The Impending End, shares my bitter struggle so hopefully, others will be recognized and get the help they need.
I talk openly about my struggles with eating disorders. I speak so others know they aren't alone. So that there's hope for recovery.
This is a mental illness that all too often is lethal, if left untreated.
I wrote about the absolute horrors I experienced with my anorexia in The Impending End to bring awareness to those who don't understand and to let those in the throws of it understand they aren't alone.
There's this big misunderstanding that anorexia is a decision. It's NOT. It's a pit if self loathing, a viscous, brutal and again, often lethal road.
I couldn't sleep because I was literally starving and my ribs hurt against my mattes.
My hair was falling out in clumps.
Every second of every day, I was in pain so bad it encompassed every thought.
I hated myself so deeply words can't describe it.
This is ... Not easy to say. But it needs to be. It needs to be because those suffering in silence need a voice.
I encourage you to get a copy of The Impending End to gain deeper understanding and to be able to better help those in your life who are suffering. Share this so those in the midst of its hell know they aren't alone and they can overcome.
Get a copy and save a life. ❤