Well....
I guess to start off I should say im really sorry.
I probably should've helped myself and told somebody sooner.
But I didn't because I didn't really care.
And I would also like to clarify that I AM NOT trying to throw a pity party. While I appreciate empathy that is given, my goal is to share my experience with those also struggling with negative self image and spread awareness around the seriouisness of this topic. Thank you.
During the summer and throughout the rest of 2015 I developed some.. "questionable" eating habits. I've never had much confidence to begin with, but with the start of my restricted eating it plummeted into a negative zone. I kept sizing down and sizing down the amount of food I was eating. And it was never good enough. I just kept going and going. I was never happy with my body or my performance in anything. So it turned into a long downward spiral. I cried myself to sleep every night; cried whenever I ate.
Eventually my mother saw me restricting and put me on the scale.
I was shocked to find that I had lost 10 pounds in about 3 weeks. She decided to take me into a doctor.
In August 2015 I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa.
They gave me a big long shpeal about what I was doing and how it was wrong, and I was put on a meal plan to gain back what I had lost.
But it didn't work. I continued to lose weight because I was so stubborn. I shamelessly put myself through strenuous exercise just to keep myself from gaining, even though I was still eating very little. What I didn't know then is that my heart was ready to collapse from the exhaustion. And my mental state certaintly did not improve. I continued to spiral downwards. I started to get very depressed and have suicidal thoughts and even a few actions. I almost did something that couldn't be undone and I'll leave it at that.
Thanksgiving and Christmas break came and I became an emotional wreck. I sobbed, screamed and sometimes hyperventilated almost every time I ate. I would actively harm myself whenever I felt unhappy with my body. And my relationship with my family and all of my loved ones fell apart. I often expressed resentment towards my parents and family, and even some lashing out occured with my friends (which I all regret.) But I kept going. My motivation was to reach january so I could go to school and avoid eating again.
However my plan certainly did not work out well. On January 7th, I was taken to the hospital and admitted to an intensive eating disorders program, where I was inpatient (living in the facility) for about 2 and a half weeks. I found out that not only did I have to gain 20 pounds of weight, but my heart rate had been dropping to the low 30s at nighttime, and I could have died of heart failure in my sleep.
4 weeks later, here I am. Still in intensive care, but allowed to have visits home.