SRS anorexia.

Discussion in 'On Topic' started by deathofxromance, Feb 21, 2007.

  1. deathofxromance

    deathofxromance New Member

    Jan 15, 2007
    Likes Received:
    i`m not really expecting a response from this.
    i came here hoping to find a broad range of "addictions",
    but its all the usual - drugs &alcohol.

    i was hoping maybe to share my story.

    my whole life i can remember being slightly overweight. i always figured that it was genetically chosen for me, on some levels. my mother is 5'0" and well over 200 pounds.

    once in middle school, i really started to notice my weight - &be bothered/frustrated with it. i went for a physical, because i was interested in running track in high school. when the time came at the doctor`s to get weighed, i stepped on the scale. the doctor read off, "150" and i watched as the colour drained from my mother`s face. I heard her whisper, "Oh my god..." &i looked at her, &asked what was wrong. She looked up, with a terrified look on her face, &asked the doctor if he was sure of what he had read. He said yes, but agreed to reweigh me. Same. 150. I said, "Mom, whats wrong?" and she just said, "I`m ashamed." I was confused. She wouldn`t talk to me the whole way home. When we got in the house, I pleaded with her to tell me what was wrong. Before I knew it, she was yelling at me, telling me how disgusted she was. I asked, "why are you disgusted?" & she said, "I didn`t weigh over 100 pounds all the way through high school. Hell, I was only 120 when I married your father!" I sat there &thought for a long time. &thats when it sank in that I needed to get my ass in gear.

    The next few months were hard on me. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I exsisted on a diet solely of lettuce, water, diet cola &sugar-free jello. My stomach would ache and growl for me to feed it, but as it did I would just think back to what my mother had told me. And my stomach would shut the hell up. I wasn`t noticing a difference. So I started running. My mother questioned it, &I told her that I was simply getting in shape for high school track. She said, "I`m proud of you." Those words stuck with me and motivated me to run that extra mile, pushed me to do an extra 200 crunches just before going to bed. My friends &family would say, "Oh my god, you look great!". &that just pushed me to lose more weight.

    Everything I was pushing for - it was so that I would be beautiful &popular &accepted when I went to high school. But the summer before my freshman year I was put in the hospital because I weighed 96 pounds. 5'5" &96 pounds. I suffered a minor heartattack, because by that time the only thing I was eating/drinking was diet coke/diet pepsi. The combination of excessive caffeine &malnutrition pushed my body over the edge. When I did go to high school (I begged to be let out of the hospital to go to school, they finally let me when I was up to 115) I was too weak to pay attention. My head spun all day, my body shook, and the only thoughts flashing through my head were pictures of stick-thin models. At lunch time, I hid in the bathroom. I was literally physically afraid to go into the cafeteria &watch other people eating.

    Through therapy &strict guidelines set in place by a nutritionist, I got back up to 140. I began making friends, &I joined the track team - a lifelong dream of mine. I was happy. I wasn`t stressing about anything, especially not my weight.

    One month into freshman year track, my cat, Smokey, had to be put to sleep. No, this wasn`t some cat-that-lives-under-the-porch-&we-feed-him-now-&again type of things. This was a cat that was born on my birthday the year before me. This cat, as a kitten, was chosen for me when my dad found out that my mom was pregnant. This cat was everything to me. He was my best friend, my "protector", &sometimes the only person that would listen when things got rough. He really was the only "person" that I trusted everything with. He slept with me every night, &would be right there beside me when I awoke the nest morning. He never left my side, day or night. I was 15 at the time, &he was 16. I knew that he was going soon, but I didn`t want to admit it to myself. &then I got the news. &the worst part was, my dad wouldn`t let me go with them to put him down. He thought it wouldn`t be good for me. I didn`t even get to say goodbye to my baby. He was everything to me.

    Needless to say, I fell into a deep depression. I began bingeing on high-calorie foods. I didn`t care about anything anymore. Food replaced love. Food replaced emotions. Food replaced any feelings whatsoever. So I gained weight &gained weight until I was 165 pounds.

    I`m not sure what snapped in me, but one day I just looked in the mirror, &felt completley &utterly disgusted with myself. I remembered back to when I was 96 pounds. My weight was the one thing, back then, that I had control over. Since Smokey`s death, I had lost control of everything. I needed to control something. Something that could bring me back on track. Something that could pull me out of this horrible, gluttenous depression. I began excersizing more (in addition to daily track practice, I would come home &run anywhere from 4 to 8 miles, and then do innumerable crunches, pushups &jackknife situps, etc.) I quickly went back to my diet of lettuce &jello. This continued with great success until was down to around 120. My mother was weary of my losing weightagain, &she casually asked me how much I weighed one day. Not realizing her alterior motives, I cheerily replied "120" &she freaked &booked an "emergency appointment" with my physchologist. He &I agreed (by my lying about my excersize &eating habits) that I was at a healthy weight, &that if I maintained it, there was nothing to worry about.

    Flashforward to track season, sophmore year. 110 pounds. Approximately 5% body fat. During a race at a meet, I collapsed. I was rushed to the hospital, again. Held for two weeks. Of course, my mother is up my ass times 30 now. Watching me eat, sitting me down on the couch for up to an hour after me finishing my meal to make sure that I don`t throw it back up (purging. bulemia.) Tettering between 145/150.

    I had just began to fall back into the ways when I met my current boyfriend, Clif. (Summer before junior year) I figured I had no chance with him, because I was a fat lard ass. No one wanted me. October of Junior year, he asked me out &we began dating. As we began to become intimate, I began freaking out. "What if he sees this fat? What if he dumps me because of it?" Revert to anorexic tendencies. And then I did something I had never done before. I told him. I had never told anyone ever before. But for some reason I trusted him above anyone else. I told him, &he was indescriminantley supportive. He reassured me that I was beautiful the way that I was, &made me promise that if I was losing weight, it wasn`t for him, it was for me. No one had ever said that to me. No one had ever reassured me that I was beautiful, &that nothing had to be changed.To this day I am thankful that he came into my life at such a crucial period.

    Now, I am falling back in again. currently 133.4. i feel like the fattest person in the entire world. It is impossible for anyone who has not gone through this to know how this feels. To sit at a lunch table, with nothing but a water bottle, while all of your friends feast on sandwiches, or pizza, or cookies or whatever delicious treats they have. To watch them, glaring, almost resentful, that they are eating, &do not feel guilty as you would if you were eating that same food. &heaven forbid the torment &guilt that you smash upon yourself if you have so much as a bite, or worse, an entire sandwich. the hours spent looking online for others to "support" you, when in the end all you get is a few people who try to help by saying "i know how you feel girl. stay strong." but theres always a void. the sickening smell that you gag upon as you throw up the reminants of a poptart. a fucking poptart. you eat a sliced apple, &feel so guilty that you immediatley put on your running clothes &run until you cannot breathe; you run until you collapse on the sidewalk, crying, tears &emotions falling all over. &you cannot explain why. you hate it, and yet you cannot escape it. it takes over every thought in your brain. it gets to the point where someone takes a piece of food out of their lunch bag and your automatically know how many calories are in it. small stalk of celery - 2. small apple - 50. sugar-free pudding - 10. can of pepsi - 120. this disease is in the air that you breathe, the words that you read &everything that you feel. you hate it, yet you cannot seem to give it up. because it is the only thing you have control over.

    for those of you who cannot understand, i pray &hope to god that you never do. i wouldn`t wish this on my worst enemy. &yet i hope it stays with me forever. sometimes. other times i just wish the voice inside my head telling not to eat would just leave me the fuck alone.

    here is a poem that i recently wrote reguarding the subject. i wasn`t sure at first if it was about my struggles with anorexia, because it was kindof one of those poems where you just sit back and type all of the emotions &feelings that are bouncing around in your head. but, reading it over several times has helped me to connect it to this.


    when did everything get so wrong?
    when did these lies become too much to swallow?
    i`m choking on my innocence;
    i can`t seem to catch my breath.
    i cannot escape this shallow grave i have dug for myself.
    fear &resent have taken over.
    these thoughts are the only things running through my head.
    cannot concentrate on anything but,
    &my world is falling apart around me.

    every moment of every day: fear.
    noticeable defects became self-loathing long ago.
    every time i look in the mirror: failure.
    i`ll never be perfect enough for you.

    i want to abandon this; turn and run.
    but my legs are weak, my spirit is shattered.
    i have no choice but to come around &return,
    back to you, begging you to accept me once again.

    i didn`t want this.
    i never expected it to be this way.
    but nothing i do can stop you.
    every time i fail you slap me back to reality.
    i need this, i want this.
    i love you &i loathe you.
    everything i do is controlled by you.
    every feeling is monitored,
    every emotion is carefully checked.
    i have to make you accept me.

    when you are near,
    whispering in my brain,
    i am calm. i am relaxed.
    nothing &no one can break me.

    but as soon as you step away,
    my eyes are wandering,
    frantically searching,
    looking for something to tear us apart.

    i hate you,
    not for who you have made me.
    but for how you have made me.

    i stare into the mirror &you stare back.
    you`re glaring, mocking me.
    i can see you`re mocking me.
    why can i never be good enough for you?
    why, when i`m starting again to feel good,
    you rip that confidence out of me,
    make me weak &dependent on you again?

    i know i`m not perfect,
    &i never will be.
    but why do you torment me,
    when i am doing the best that i can?

    you make me feel useless.
    you make me feel horrible.
    you`re a malicious, evil...thing.
    &yet i cannot bear to give you up.

    when i feel you slipping away,
    i cry out in the darkness,
    "please don`t leave me to die here alone.
    please, i need you."
    &you always come back.
    you return when i am ready for you.
    but you punish me.
    &i deserve it.

    honestly, i can`t stand the thought of you.
    but i just cannot bear to let you go.

    sorry this was so long. i just needed to let it all out.
  2. i killed tupac

    i killed tupac New Member

    Mar 19, 2005
    Likes Received:
    this toilet earth
    addiction for me is a behavior, not a substance. could be drugs, could be alcohol, money, food, sex, control, power, etc. It is about finding something external to change the way i felt about my self, the inability to "just be", the feeling that i always had to "be doing" something, control it, control life, have power over myself. The 12 steps, especially those of NA, dont mention drugs anywhere. Take a look at them, see if there is a way you can apply it to what you want to change, once you figure out what you want to change.

    1.We admitted that we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable.
    2.We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
    3.We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care 0f God as we understood him.
    4.We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
    5.We admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
    6.We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
    7.We humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings.
    8.We made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.
    9.We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
    10.We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
    11.We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
    12.Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

    No mention of drugs anywhere...substitute the word "addiction" with whatever you can relate to, the word doest really need to be the same for the steps to work.

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