#ok I made this years ago in the hospital recovering from ana but I never posted it here for some reason??

[boozey-buddy]

he’s catching his rye

[emotionsbecomeart]

“Some stories are hard to tell.”

And this is definitely one of them. ***MILD TRIGGER WARNING*** Much like most of you, grade ten for me was a hard year. Piles of homework, little to no sleep, and so. much. stress. As you probably noticed, I wasn’t at school for two and a half months last year. During which, I fell apart. A lot went down during those two months but I'm going to focus on one aspect of it. I wouldy can break you. Haunt you forever. Graphic images or phrases repeat in your head over and over and over again, like a broken record. At first, you fight back! You tell yourself that “It’s not my fault. That’s not true. I am not those things.” But these memories, these harmful things, they will keep repeating in your head until it’s you saying those things to yourself. And worst of all, you believe t like to introduce you to an old, toxic friend of mine. Her name? Anorexia Nervosa. Ana to those who know her. I have found, with the worst things in your life, my anorexic journey started with something normal. Or, normal to me. You see, the females in my family have really low self-esteem. They constantly complement one another, while criticizing themselves. Saying things like “awe, you have the prettiest legs! Mine are fat and disgusting.” This was the environment I grew up in, and the one I still live in now. I was about ten or eleven when I got dragged into it too. My friend group in grade five to seven were the thin girls. They were pretty and popular and so skinny. And so was I. I was one of them and I loved every second of it. And then everything that was stable in my life completely blew up in my face. My step-dad was forced into bankruptcy by his corrupt business partners and we lost the seven skate surf snow shops he owned. We were forced to downsize and move out of our house in Victoria, which we had lived in for three years, which to this day was the longest I have ever stayed in one house in my entire life. Our move was chaotic and stressful for everyone. That's the exact moment when everything got real bad, real fast. I felt like I had lost control of anything and everything in my life. I started to drastically control everything I could, just grasping at straws, trying so desperately to hang on the tiny shreds of stability I had left. Anorexia became my best friend. I would restrict my eating because I found comfort in the predictability of being hungry. Feeling starved made me feel safe. I counted calories obsessively. I would chew and spit to feel like I was eating, without actually eating. I would last days were all I ate was a good apple and a package of dried seaweed. I would eat nothing for as long as possible, and if I ate too much, I would purge. I quickly fell down a slippery slope into a downward spiral, which only got worse and worse. A year ago on Halloween, I hit my all-time low; sixty-seven pounds. I was so proud of myself, but I still felt so unsatisfied. I still hated my body, even though I had hit all my ana milestones. I had a huge thigh gap and a flat stomach and silver dollar arms. You could see my bones, my hips and ribs and jawline looked like they could cut you. My collar bones p o p p e d. But I still hated myself. At the time, I had a boyfriend who low key supported the whole thing. he would say "haha nice!" when I would tell him I haven't eaten in four days and he was proud of me when I hit my lowered weight goals. My Step-dad, on the other hand, enjoyed finding the things that really hurt me, and using them against me to control my life. Saying things like "Whoa there Egan. One is enough. Look at you! You could stand to lose a few pounds. And another brownie isn't going to help... that." "Look at the flab on your arms. That's disgusting." I'm sure he thought everything he was saying was freaking hilarious, but I sure didn't. I couldn't get any skinnier without having to be sent to the hospital, like most of my friends from grade five were being kept now. So I turned to other ways of controlling myself. Controlling my sleep, only falling unconscious for an hour and a half each night. Or controlling my pain, by burning and scratching and hurting myself. My skin had lost all colour and was freezing cold to the touch. My hair was once soft and long, was breaking and splitting and dull. I cut it off so that you couldn't see the damage, and I bleached and died it so you wouldn't know that something was wrong. My body was bruised and scarred. I felt like my lungs couldn't get enough oxygen into my brain, and I feared I would faint if I stood up too quickly. My eyes grew tired and had circles of darkness surrounding them, and my skin was dry and yellowed. I would have panic attacks and burst into tears which would leave me gasping for breath and feeling like I was drowning, simply because I hadn't checked my weight, or because I was one ounce heavier.  I developed anaemia, and I stopped getting my period. The thinspo models looked so beautiful to me, and I longed to be the girl that someone else thought "I wanna look like her." It was bad. I knew it was bad. Anorexia and self-harm became my new toxic boyfriend. I just sat there watching this terrifying monster tear apart my life and push everyone away from me, but at the same time, it was so warm and soft and comforting. Like being slowly suffocated with the fluffiest blanket in the world. I needed to get out, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to. It was the only stability I had. My parents (who don't know basically any of this by the way), decided that I would be ok to go back to school after spring break. I was terrified that people would think I looked gross and sick and would look at me with that look. That one look that is disgust mixed with pity. Shoutout to all y'all in the crowd who know that look. I am so sorry. But when I came back, I was treated with such godlike love. I hadn't talked to my friends in months, and still, they picked me up and held me long and tight, and I realized I had forgotten how important it was to have people in your life who really care about you. My boi Luke over here bought me food every day for at least a year, but he never forced me to eat it. He made me choose myself to eat it, teaching me to make the right decision on my own. He literally walked arm in arm with me on my path to recovery. I thank him for that. Being back at school brought the much-needed stability back into my life, and really helped me break out of these old habits. Surrey Christian, my friends, and all the eating disorder recovery stories I have heard from other students either here or from other schools, I thank you. You quite literally saved my life. But, I am not cured. There is no "cure". I am a fighter. I am a survivor. When cancer sufferers fight, recover, and go into remission we commend their bravery. We wear ribbons to celebrate their fight. We call them survivors. Because they are. When Anorexics fight, recover, and go into remission we rarely even know, simply because so many suffer in the dark . . . ashamed to admit something they see as a personal weakness . . . afraid that people will worry, and more afraid that they won’t. When you finally start to fight back, and start to win there is an incredible feeling of being almost free, like your in the homestretch, but not good enough that you feel allowed to celebrate. Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again. We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker . . . but as survivors. Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from our peers who congratulate them on making it. But they deserve it. Everyone deserves pats on the back for getting out of bed this morning and making it through the day so far. So pats on the back to you all. And remember, everyone has their own demons weighing them down. My demons hurt me as much as your demons hurt you. You can never know someone's demons until you listen to their stories. And you can't possibly listen to everyone's demon stories, and that's ok. Just give everyone some pats on the back anyway. - (el❤)