Today, I turned 18 years old.
On my 16th birthday, after crying myself to sleep, I vowed to never cry over my family again. Instead of focusing on all of the things that were destroying me, I focused on the diet I had started about 10 days prior. It took control of my entire life. By July I weighed less than 100 pounds, my bones stuck out, but I still wanted to be skinnier. I rarely ate, but when I did, I made sure to throw it up.
I started recovering last summer, June 2012. It went well for awhile, but once school started back up and family problems arose again I started slowly falling back into my old ways. I fought for awhile, but recently I broke.
I have to talk to the school counselor once a week. My parents are in denial and attest to being emotionless, so that doesnâ€™t help anything. At first I told her the truth, it was easy, I had nothing to hide. As my old habits come back I donâ€™t want to tell her. As much as I hate having an eating disorder, itâ€™s comforting, and I donâ€™t want anyone taking it away from me. Lately, I hate myself.
Every time I eat, Iâ€™m ashamed.
Every time I look in the mirror, I want to starve for eternity.
Every time my stomach is full, I must either throw up or exercise until I feel okay again.
When I restrict calories, compulsively exercise, and throw up anytime I mess up, I feel better.
I feel good.
I feel like Iâ€™m finally enough.
I canâ€™t tell anyone that though. When you tell people, they hurt, they donâ€™t understand. The school counselor thinks itâ€™s because of stress, which it partially is, but itâ€™s honestly so much more than that.
Today, I came home from school, started sobbing, and went to the bathroom to throw up. I was exhausted and ashamed of myself for eating, I sat there crying and considered killing myself on the spot. I feel like Iâ€™m disappointing everyone. I feel like I canâ€™t take it anymore.