It began in the beginning. The reason I started off with that sentence is because I don’t really have a clue when any of this started. I have always said throughout my recovery that anything and, most likely, everything that has happened so far or anything you think might happen in the future can contribute to how your mental health develops, good or bad. I was born in October, 2001, to a loving mother, father and my 2, now 15, year old half-sister. I grew up with two of them, mother and sister.
As of Friday the 8th of August 2014, 6 days after my sister’s 15th birthday, I was diagnosed with severe anorexia nervosa, a mental illness that is becoming more and more common. There are hundreds stereotypes connected to this disorder. One of the biggest ones that I have struggled with is weight and body image. Not all anorexics are underweight or skeletal. I myself only just got near the bottom of the normal BMI rage for girls my age. For over 8 months I kept telling myself that I was not worthy of medical help, or that I knew I did not need it, that I was not “skinny” enough and didn’t deserve to eat food. Over the period of time that I was at home with my anorexia I did not weigh myself, this was because in my house there was no weighing scale. So all I had to go on was what I looked like in the mirror, which was never good. For hours I would try to get into positions that made me look smaller, sometimes I’d stay at home all weekend just to check that my stomach was shrinking. But my weight reducing stopped. As my body got more used to eating near to nothing it started to react more explosively to the things I did allow myself to swallow. Many times I can recall feeling thirsty, letting my healthier mind get the better of me and having a glass of water, only to find my stomach shooting out of my t-shirt. I began to develop a fear of having anything inside me whatsoever.
As my body and brain became malnourished I started to be more depressed. When it came to the week I was admitted to hospital I was spending every day in my room watching youtube videos, looking at pictures of delicious food and only going out when I felt I needed to walk and exercise outside of my room. Going out consisted of reading the nutritional value of various foods in supermarkets, walking around the woods, stopping every 15 minutes to catch my breath, and seeing my friends, which became more and more rare as my disorder took over me. How I viewed myself in terms of size and shape and what I thought other people thought of me caused me to isolate myself and starve my body even more. Becoming more depressed also drove me to finding myself thinking very suicidal thoughts, although I never committed to them in fear that I would die fat.