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Remember that little saying growing up, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me?" We all use to say it as a way to comfort ourselves from bullies. It was a way of saying "Haha! Do you really think that hurt my feelings?" Somewhere, deep down, I think it truly did help some of us.
I can recall myself singing that at the top of my lungs like that was the national anthem. Whenever someone at school said something mean, I was singing it. If my older brother or sister said something, guess what, I was screaming it.
But once I was in middle school I couldn't really find myself saying that anymore. People's words were hurting me, mentally altering the way I saw myself each and every day. It was simple little comment from friends or even family how I was getting a little chubby, maybe I shouldn't eat that cookie. Then people would start just bluntly calling me fat, saying "Why don't you just go eat some more cookies, go eat a twinkie or something!"
This was an almost everyday thing. I slowly started watching what I ate, I played just dance all day long when I wasn't at school. The weight was coming off slowly but still in a steady progress. The comments still continued though, as if all this progress meant nothing to anyone. I seemed to be the only one who noticed and I gave up. I put on the weight I'd lost, plus more!
Flash forward to my freshman year in highschool. (Oh the joy!) Everything started of great! I'd even caught the attention of a junior boy. (Bad idea!) High school wasn't bad and all my bullies from middle seemed to fade into black. Until I had a class with the same group of boys who'd bully me in middle school, surely they had grown up by now!
W R O N G!
Once again the bulling started, and it was only ever about my weight, nothing else. Just the simple fact that I was chubby and everyone else was skinny and weightless. So once again I started dieting, only this time I counted my calories, down to the very last gram. I would only allow myself a certain amount of calories per day, if I ate anymore than that I was burning it off. I only drank water and I mean GALLONS of it. I worked out about two hours a day during the morning before school, when I got home and then before bed.
I was losing weight pretty fast but I didn't think it was fast enough and so I started eating "Safe foods." I'd only eat mashed potatoes, noodles, yogurt, anything that was going to be easy to throw up. I'd work out, eat, throw up, and work out more. Every single day. I had gotten good, even great hiding it from my friends and my family. I'd always offer to cook dinner, saying I had picked around while I cooked so I could get out of eating dinner with everyone else. I lied to my friends and said I didn't feel good when they asked why I wasn't eating lunch.
"How are you losing so much weight?"
"Are you eating?"
"Wow. You've lost weight."
Everyone asking and talking about my weight loss only seemed to further my addiction to losing weight and disorder of thinking this was all normal. I became reserved, only focusing on working out, not eating, how many calories I was gonna eat, and how I was gonna burn them off. I lost most of my friends because when they became worried about me I shut them out. I truly believe they were gonna try and make me fat again. I turned on everyone and everything. Mia (Bulimia) was my only friend.
Eventually I ended up moving to my father's house, 5 hours away from my mom, my bullies, and my friends; the ones I had left. I made friends straight away and I got too comfortable, I started eating without even a second thought of what was going inside me. I eventually put on everything I had lost plus a good 30lbs more. But some part of me just didn't care anymore. I was worn down and tired of trying to be perfect.
The point of this is that if you know how this is, if you have an eating disorder, things will always work out if you let them. I still am no size 00 but each and everyday I am learning to love my body. I am eating healthier and working out and losing weight the healthy way. Some day I don't wanna eat and if I do I feel guilty. I still have days where I slip up and purge. But I have a great support system who would do anything for me. That is one of the best things about recovery is the support, the love and care that is giving to you, unconditionally. It's there and if you are willing to accept you need help I will guarantee you'll feel so much better.
Ana, Mia, Ellie, whatever you decide to call your disorder, they are not your friends.
I wish noting but the best for any and everyone going through this.
You guys are stronger than you know.