I went to an eating disorder therapist today. I told myself it’s time to be honest with myself and face all my crap that I hide or justify. It’s helped a bunch being honest not with just myself but with the few people I talk to anymore. I never considered myself anorexic because I would eat. (Sometimes) so I justified not having it. Even if I ate 200 calories that day I ate so I wasn’t anorexic. I don’t know who I was fooling. I’m one of those people that punishes themselves for their behavior by refusing to eat.
It didn’t start out that way. I told my therapist today that when I graduated from high school in 1992 my boyfriend told me my butt was fat. He says he said phat. I heard fat. I am 5’7 mind you and after he said that I went from 152 to 113 in 3 months. I ate a bowl of cereal every other day and eventually got to the point where if I tried to eat I couldn’t. It would make me sick. I got thin and he still was a jerk. Then I married him. (Gawl) Weighed 113 when I got pregnant and weighed 159 when I had my sweet little boy. 2 weeks later I was 125 and tanning in my bikini. When he was 4 months old I spent 4 days in the hospital for toxic shock syndrome. I walked in as dead as a person still alive could be. Temp 105.1 and B/P was 60/20. Yes. 60 over 20. And I walked in carrying my baby. They used 3 blood pressure machines on me because it was so low and then I’d never seen anyone move so fast and swoop me to a room.
I recovered but my mentality didn’t. I couldn’t let myself get fat again. I did not starve myself while pregnant. Those were the three times I took care of myself nutritionally. So much so that when he and I had our second child at 7 months pregnant my doctor walked in the room and said whoa you need to lay off the ice cream. (I was in the 160s). He crushed me with those words. I ended up having a ten pound baby so I wasn’t fat, I knew that but I’ll never forget his words.
Now fast forward through my life and I’ve been one who if they cause someone some kind of grief or upset them in anyway I get such severe anxiety that the appetite just knows to go away. And back to starving myself I go. Since my husband and I have been separated last December, he has been the one feeding me. He has me come over and he makes me eat. I left in December at 164 pounds and I’m down to 125 now. I look so gross. I hide myself in clothes that don’t fit me I rarely take photos of myself and I hide from people that don’t know what’s going on in my personal life because I don’t want them to ask what’s wrong with me.
My therapist told me today that anxiety and eating disorders go hand in hand and the majority of people suffering from an E.D. Had anxiety long before. And I did. As long as I can remember I just didn’t know what it was I was feeling and it went unnoticed. This is just the beginning of my recovery and most likely part of my story I will write one day. I don’t necessarily want advice I think I’m just so very lonely tonight I don’t want to feel alone anymore because today I feel myself slipping into that hole that I don’t want to be in anymore. I have so much to my story and it will have a happy ending but I think for me and my recovery I need to get my story out there.
Of course this wasn’t the beginning of my struggles but this is the point I chose to tell it from today.
My Life, My Story 
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