Maybe

Maybe I care, maybe I don’t. Maybe I want to feel, but I can’t. And there might be a small sliver of hope. But it dissipates into the black. So maybe you can fuck off. And maybe I can too.

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Living with anorexia

Anorexia is not just an eating disorder, it’s a constant internal battle.

It all started when I wore a crop top to school. I was feeling very confident in my body and I was so happy. I was happy until one girl criticized me, she called me fat saying that a “Girl my size should not be wearing that.” I could feel my heart breaking in that very moment.

That very night I went home and searched for every way to lose weight fast. I stood on the scale and even calculated my BMI. I became determined to make my waist thinner. I thought that it was the only way to be beautiful like her.

I started to set a goal weight for myself. It started out with trying to lose at least five pounds.

I portioned out every one of my meals to about the size of my hand. I ate two to three times a day.

After a few weeks, the weight started the slowly drop. But that wasn’t enough. It was taking too long. I felt prettier with having lost a few pounds so I told myself “Why not lose a couple more pounds?”

I then cut my meals down to once a day and began calorie counting and the weight started to fall more and more.

I was so happy with myself but there was a little voice forming in my head telling me that I needed to lose more weight in order to truly be beautiful. The voice told me that if I stopped eating altogether then I would lose so much more.

That’s what I wanted right? To be thin and beautiful like all the other girls at my school. To be wanted.

I searched online daily exercise routines and blogs that supported not eating to motivate myself.

That little voice in my head was starting to make sense and everything she told me to do was working. People were starting to notice my weight loss and they seemed so happy for me.

But there came a point where people stopped being happy for me and started to look concerned. They questioned my health and if I was eating properly. The voice told me to deny their accusations. And I listened to it.

That voice became my reasoning. I listened and obeyed everything that it told me.

Eventually, it was the only thing I listened to.  Everyone else was wrong because I was thin and beautiful.

I thought that voice was my friend. I was wrong. That voice was my enemy.

The more weight that I lost the happier I thought I was. The more my bones showed the more excited I got.

But it was never enough. No matter how much weight I lost the voice said I wasn’t good enough. That I wasn’t beautiful because I didn’t look like the models or actresses.

I was feeding a monster in my head and I let it take over my life.

It came to a point where my anxiety would skyrocket if I even gained an ounce. I started to have panic attacks on the bathroom floor next to the scale.

That voice has haunted me for years and still does. It has taken years of self-evaluation to realize that I am more than just a number on a scale.

I’m not going to say that I beat anorexia because I didn’t. I still battle it on a day to day basis.

Some days are worse than others but I now know that I am beautiful no matter what the scale says.

There is more to life than being trapped inside your mind. It took me a while to understand this.

I had to slowly take back my control. I am the key to my happiness. No one can devalue you without your consent.

Don’t give them the consent.