Is it too much to ask for?

Like I've said before: I haven't been feeling very well. I was at home from school yesterday and today and the plan was to do some schoolwork, but I just couldn't get myself to do it. I couldn't consentrate. I haven't even been able to to a sudoku or watch TV for more than 3 minutes. I am totally constipated (again!) and it hurts! I am cold, and I am really struggling with eating my meals. So staying at home, trying to get my mental and physical self back on track is probably the best choice I've taken in a while. I don't like being home from school, but when the situation is like this, then I have to put my health before anything else.

I just want to get better and be healthy again. Is that too much to ask for?

I've walked around with a piratepatch all day, due to I've gotten a lazy eye thanks to lack of nutrition and vitamins over quite some time. Gotta love it. When I bought the pack, I got some "tattoos" to put on the patches and I thought: "Ok, If I'm gonna do it, I might as well take it all the way and have cute animal pics on them as well?" so yes, that's what I did :-) 

Sorry for my swollen face, recovery is really paying it's toll...

Yeah, I had a photoshoot with myself earlier today hehe, always as much fun hehe. Ehm, no. Much more entertaining to take pictures of others... and that doesn't kill the little self-esteem I have left. I feel really stupid to post these, but I feel like I have to express myself in someway so here it goes:

It's like I am "Ana" in this pic. It shows how dark, creepy and terrifying the disorder is.

I'm really really constipated, like you can see....

Please, no hate. I'm sorry if it's triggering. That was not the purpose of this post!!! 

-M

Being sick is NOT a good sparetime activity!

I've got time off of school this whole week, and of course I had to catch a cold. It's so typical! Like it wasn't enough having digestion problems...
But well I have to make the best out of it, so I made a cup of tea. My favourite: Mango & passionfruit ♥
I also put on som music, and now I'm just relaxing, going through some blogs and of course: drinking tea :) 

I'm a bit afraid of getting triggered now since I don't have an appetite, at all. Oh well, not a bit, but A LOT afraid!   And since I'm kind of triggered before, this won't make it any better. I guess I just have to pick myself up and keep fighting. Not much else to do in this situation.

- M ♥

Story of an ED

You know those days when you don't want to get out of bed? The days you don't feel like interact with anyone and just want  be by yourself? The days you don't even see a point in existing and nothing goes your way? You're tired, so extremely tired. Tired of everything and everyone, especially yourself. You're disappointed, unhappy, depressed, sad and hopeless. You're trying to decide wether you should get out of bed or not. "Not" seems much more appealing, but you go for "get out of bed". You go for the challenging choice and you get out of bed, get dressed and if you're feeling extremely strong and powerful, you poor some low calorie cereal in a bowl and then drown it in low fat milk. You look at the clock, it's 5 to 7 am. You throw what's left of your breakfast in the trash because you wouldn't dare to finish those 50 grams. You grab your bag and run out the door, without a lunch pack, to catch the only bus that drives through your neighborhood this time of day. Technically, you didn't have to run. You only ran to burn the calories you just consumed. Filthy, disgusting calories. The guilt is killing you. Why were you so weak? why did you give up and eat? You run a little further, past your bus stop, and towards the next one couple hundred meters away. You check what time it is and see that you have enough time to run to yet another bus stop further away. When you arrive at the third stop you see the bus come driving towards you. You get on the bus, sit down and finally you can catch your breath. Your heart is beating like never before, your body is about to give up, but you are happier than ever before. Or at least you feel like you are, but the truth is: you're miserable. You know you shouldn't have run, you know you're supposed to be proud of yourself for eating breakfast, you know it all, but your head tells you otherwise. It tells you that you're strong for starving yourself, that you don't deserve food, that you look so much prettier if you don't eat, that a single calorie makes you fat and ugly. It even tells you that you're worthless. Your thoughts don't count anymore. You've lost all control. The control you once had, is comepletely gone. You know what you're doing to yourself, but you don't care. Why care when you're eitherway too fat and disgusting, this at least makes you thinner, but you're never thin enough. The last couple of months you've seen the number on the scale drop drastically, but it's never low enough. You're constantly finding new places to squeeze fat, or what you think is fat, but really is skin or a relaxed muscle. You don't care, if it's pinchable, it must go. Your hair is falling out and your skin appears gray. Your teeth and gum hurt. Your body is covered in bruises that you don't remember getting, they just appeared from nowhere. Every movement you make and every step you take hurts. Your muscles are sore and most of all: the spark you once had in your eyes, is completely gone.
Now it's just a matter of time when your heart stops beating and sends you away to a better place. A place where your troubles are nowhere to be seen. One day the beating stops and you're jumping from one cloud to another when you look down, all the way down to earth. You see your family. Your younger brother is crying. He's crying because he lost his only sister. His older sister, who was supposed to look after him, to be there for him, is now gone. Your mom is standing by his side. She's crying too. You have to look away. You can't bare to see your mom crying, even though you two never really got along. A tear slides down your chin. You see your dad coming towards your mom and put her arms around her. Your younger brother joins in and all three of them are now crying together. Your eyes are filled with tears and your cheeks are wet. You wish it didn't go this far. You wish you didn't let this disorder take your life away, that you tried to take control when you had the chance. You wish all this didn't happen. 


"Beep, beep, beep, beep", your alarm wakes you up. You look around yourself and you can't believe it, you're alive! You jump out of bed, get dressed, poor some normal cereal into a bowl and drown it in full fat milk. You pack your lunch, check what time it is and it is 5 to 7 am. It's time you go out the door to catch the only bus that drives through this neighbourhood this time of day. You take one step over the threshold and take a deep breath. The fresh air after a storm fills your lungs. You walk to your bus stop and wait for the bus. When the bus arrives, you get on it, sit down and think to yourself : "Today my life begins!"

Will I ever get thin enough?

Will I ever be thin enough? Is it even possible?
I have realized that I will never be thin enough. I will never be happy with my body. I won't get thin enough, at least not in this body, that's for sure. Maybe if I suck in my organs and crush my ribs, press my body flat with the surface and cut it into pieces, I'll be thin enough. Maybe THEN I'll be satisfied.
At this moment I satisfy myself with sucking in my organs as much as possible, even though that's not good enough. Nothing is good enough. Ever.

People stare and people talk. Some of them know about me, others don't. They stare at me, thinking I'm too fat to be in public, too damn disgusting. I just keep staring at the ground. I won't look them in the eye. I'm too ashamed. I just wan't to disappear from the surface of the earth. Why can't the earth swallow me? In one piece, please.

Some people look at me with sympathy and empathy in their eyes. I don't like it. The "poor you" look. I hate it. I'm not "poor me", I'm not even sick. Well OK, I have a disorder, but there are so many others in the world that have it much worse. Spare your "poor you" looks for them, they deserve them, I don't. I really don't.

-M

Reasons

I've been reading some articles about phases and how to succeed in recovery. After reading them I understand much more about my disorder. I might say that I "discover" it in a whole new way. I'm closer to accepting my problems, but still not quite there. I mean, I don't look like an anorexic person, not at all! But the disease is in my brain, where no one can see it. Not even me. That's what makes it so hard to accept. You can't go to a doctor, and just by one look he can give you a diagnosis. It isn't that easy. It's a looooooong process, which seems to never end.

Here is a really good article, which explains pretty much everything about restrictive eating disorders, but mainly focuses on recovery in general. There are really good tips and information about the different phases, causes, and how to get the best possible results of your recovery. Highly recommended! 

-M

I wish

Over the last 3 and a half months, I've been in a hospital all in all for 2 whole months.
Is this a life? No, not at all.
I want to live a as normal life as possible. I want to be able to eat what I want, when and where ever I want. I want to enjoy myself. Be confident and strong. But I ain't and I can't.
No matter how much I swing between wanting to recover and not accepting that I have a problem, I'll never be normal. Despite progresses and hard working, the Ana will always be dwelling beneath the surface. Even though at times I won't notice her, she'll be there and I'll have to be extra careful to not wake her up. Everything, anything and nothing can trigger her.

What's going through my mind right now

Could be triggering

I don‘t know what to say. I don‘t know what I want. I do not accept it, not right now. I don‘t want to. I'm too fat to have Anorexia. But I know. I know what‘s happening. I know what‘s wrong, but I don‘t accept it.  This isn't happening to me, it can‘t, I'm too fat.  I‘m not struggling. I am fine. I‘m managing.

I just want to reach my goal. A specific number. I will reach it. I have to. I‘ve destroyed too much of my process to “perfection“ . I will be able to stop when I‘ve reached my goal. I promise. Just let me reach it and then I can get better. Only 5 more kg. Then I can stop. Or, no, 10 kg.  10 kg and I’m happy.

I’m so irritated and mad. Irritated and mad at myself.  I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I didn’t want to be admitted. My family and doctors forced me to. I know it is to help me get better, and I’m glad for everything everyone has done for me during this process.  But I’m not sure I want to get better. Only few more kg and I can get better, if it involves not gaining weight.
If I gain weight (which I haven’t), I’ll freak out. I weigh myself at least 5 times a day and that’s only a minimum.  I have to see if I can allow myself to eat or not, but I end up eating either way because I’m forced to.  

I get fatter and fatter by every bite I swallow and that’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.  Pathetic because I eat and pathetic because of this voice that takes over. Everything about this is pathetic.

Calories, calories, calories. I’m being eaten up inside and out of the thought of them.

But I’m trying to fight those thoughts. I listen to everything people tell me, but it’s hard to believe those unbelievable sweet things they're saying to me because the voice saying the exact opposite , over powers them. 

I have so many wrong beliefs and misunderstands when it comes to food and nutrition... all on purpose. I can’t sort the logic thoughts from the sick ones. They take over all logic and what’s left is a mindset of thoughts that I fail at controlling. Thoughts that are negative all the way. Destructive and overwhelming thoughts.
I try to turn them around. I fight them as hard as I can, there is if I discover them or get reminded of how wrong they are.

I actually get more and more closed up each passing day. I feel that everyone is trying to make me fat. I’m eating and I feel fatter and look fatter. Even though the scale doesn't show a difference, I can see it in the mirror.

I know that almost every thought that’s written here is wrong. I do know. But I’m stuck in this confusing set of thoughts. I’m tired. So very tired of this disorder which I swing between accepting and not accepting. I wish it hadn't gotten to this point. I wish I had turned around when I had the chance. When it was easier. It was a unintentional decision that I wish I hadn't made.

- 

         -M 

(Pictures from Weheartit.com)

Relapses

Reapses are the hardest part of recovery. I'm having a relapse now and I really can't see what all this fuss is about. I'm not sick. Not even a little bit...
That's my Ana talking, and I know I shouldn't listen to her. But it's hard. Really hard. Harder then anything I've ever done before.
I fight it everyday. The thoughts, the tendencies and the "voice" that's constantly saying something negative about me in my head. Especially when I'm eating and afterwards. It's Ana. Destructive, down breaking and disgusting voice that has taken over my life.
Because of her, I've become overly concious of my body, ridiculously insecure and over the top hard on myself.
I have to remind myself constantly of that during recovery, there will be relapses, but I can't give up. After a relapse, there's recovery. I just have to fight. And I'm not losing, even though I have relapses. I'm losing if I give up during relapses. And I'm not going to lose this war!
-M