"Cry For Help"

This phrase is banded about a lot in the world of self harm and eating disorders. I actually think this phrase perfectly sums up a huge part of their very workings, but for some reason, it has become a term of dismission.

"She's just doing it as a cry for help, it's no big deal"

Uh.. what? A cry for help means there is a need for help in the first place, the sheer desperation of people who turn to self harm starvation aren't  just crying for help, they're screaming. Why on earth does this strike somebody as a reason to disregard their struggles? Surely, if anything, they should realise how truly awful somebody must be feeling to search for some kind of deliverance, of salvation even, through such self destructive means?

Honestly, it drives me up the wall. If people hurt themselves as a "cry for help", give them fucking help, they clearly need it!

Now, don't get me wrong, I think "doing it for attention" and "crying out for help" are very different things. Somebody who shouts about how they love cutting themselves, or posts pictures on crazy ass erotic forums, or who broadcasts pro-ana messages of "bones are beautiful", they need a whole different kind of help. They need help to stop being such a dick and get to the bottom of why they're choosing to promote something so blatantly harmful as a good lifestyle choice.

Nobody ever acknowledges they're doing something as a cry for help. I never did, but with the benefit of hindsight, there were times when I just wanted someone to take me aside and say;

"I've noticed. I've seen the scars. I've noticed the weight loss, the disappearance to the bathrooms. And it's okay, I'm here for you, and I'm going to help you get through this"

I once read a very good description of selfharm;

"You scream, in a room full of people, but nobody, not a single person, hears you. So you scream in blood." 

Sometimes, you need to LET STUFF OUT, and you want other people to hear you.

Regardless, in keeping with everything else I used to destroy myself, I never opened up really, not until after a long long time of it anyway. I still wore long sleeves all through the summer, or smeared foundation on my arms. I still laughed off anybody who asked why I hadn't eating, and I still lied about my weight, and how much I ate. But right at the back of my mind, in the deepest, darkest corner of it, lay a desperate me. The rational me. The scared, hopeless, lost me, who wanted somebody to find me. Part of me wonders if that part of me is my inner child, the happy little girl who at times feels miles away, crying out for help.

The other day, I saw a yahoo answers post which broke my heart. A girl had posted this (or something very similar): 

"I am 12 years old, and I have taken 12 paracetemols. I'm 5ft3 and quite a small build, will this be enough to kill me?"

No, there weren't concerned messages urging her to go to hospital. In fact, the highest rated comment was;
"If you really wanted to kill yourself, you would have taken the whole pack sweetie. I think somebody's done this as a little cry for help, so why don't you run along down to A&E to get an ickle stomach pump."

Not sure if I've truly communicated the evident sarcasm of the comment, but it was dripping with it, and many of the other comments followed the same theme.

That little girl could be dead.

She was crying out for help, because she needed it. 

Ups And Downs

Sorry I haven't written for a while, I've had a pretty rough week. The roughness of the week is actually what's inspired me to write on here, because it's only struck me this week that people think once you start eating again, your problem is solved.

Friends think now that I'm not passing out in lessons, throwing up every day after lunch, losing weight at an alarming weight, now I'm not skeletal and I actually eat that I'm okay. And you know what? I'm not. I'm better, much better than I was, maybe even ever happen. But the truth is, even in this stage of recovery, there are days, sometimes weeks, where you just genuinely will feel shit. It's hard though, when something is so much less noticeable or obviously problematic to alert people to the fact that it's still not okay to talk about weight or ask me for diet tips. Not yet. I'm not ready. I just want to shout "guys, I'm not quite healed yet, please just give me a hug". As awful as this sounds, it's almost made me want to cut, to make me see some physical embodiment of this not-being-okay feeling I keep having. The ED thoughts still exist, and a part of me worries they always will.

I don't even think it's just friends and family who think recovery means eating and then, suddenly, you're fine. I think a lot of sufferers will embark on what truly is a long journey to recovery, thinking that they'll wake up tomorrow no longer having these thoughts. That they'll be fine.

I'm not going to bullshit you: Recovery is fucking hard. It really is. You'll have your ED days, you'll probably purge up your dinner, or go 2 days without eating. That's part of the battle, you see. It's how you overcome the bumps in the road that really matters, because recovery requires an inner strength to keep going and keep pushing forward. The first few weeks are instrumental. I read my diaries from around May last year, when I decided to try and recover, and every other day I decide I can't do it. And you'll feel like that! You WILL feel nothing matters anymore, you will feel alone, and scared.

Truth is though, your worst days in recovery will be better than your best days in relapse.

The rest of the world may not understand that because you don't look emaciated you no longer have an eating disorder; or because you no longer are covered in cuts that you're no longer depressed. Almost all of the strength to make it to recovery is needed from within you.

And so I leave you with the ever wise words of my drunken school friend.
I once had somebody tell me "You know, you look so frail and fragile on the outside, and yet on the inside you're one of the strongest people I know. You got some fucking balls, you know that?"

Letting People In

This has been and remains today the hardest part of the entire process for me. Innitially, I went through about a year and a half of bullemia, totally alone, not talking to anybody. Then, I chose to tell this one guy, let's call him G, which was a mistake. He was my boyfriend, and when he ended it, he used this knowledge to humiliate me. The progress I had made while our relationship lasted was well and truly reversed, and I plunged into anorexia with renewed vigour, reaching my lowest weight, passing out, my parents found out after a friend called the police as she worried I was suicidal, and I was put in psychiatric care. My psych threatened inpatient care if I lost anymore weight, which bumpstarted this struggle for recovery nearly a year ago now.

This time, I understood more about the pressures of coping alone, but also how a total reliance on one individual was, to be frank, stupid. I trusted a group of 4 or 5 friends, who I would talk to about how I was feeling, and would in turn be a shoulder for them to cry on. Trusting these  people did nothing short than transform my entire world. A new closeness was achieved with them, achieved by allowing myself to become vulnerable. My best friend, J, is who I particularly attribute my recovery weight gain and general more positive state of mind to. He was a huge help, indescribably amazing when I needed him most.

My biggest fear when I first considered telling people was "what if they don't believe me, because I'm too fat to have issues with eating?". I should also add that until December of last year, I denied ever having an  eating disorder, believing that to have an eating disorder, I needed to be skinny. My disfunctional mind wouldn't allow me to believe that being 'severely underweight' and quickly spiraling to a point where I needed hospital treatment because my BMI was so low was "skinny". In hindsight, I see that was just fucking stupid really.

So, if that's what's going through your mind? Put it in perspective. It is the eating disorder talking.

Letting people in has to be a two way thing though. I myself always have endeavoured to be there for my friends, one of which was severely depressed. She came to rely on me, to lean on me, to tell me all her problems. Which would have been fine, if she had let me talk to her once in a while. Whenever I tried, she would tell me she "couldn't cope with hearing my problems right now" because it "wasn't helping her". I always make sure I am never that person, and as much as people allow me to talk to them, I will always be there for my friends too. That has to be something you are prepared to do.

Although they won't read it or know who I am, thanks you guys. You saved me.

Start off this new year by doing something positive, and trusting in others as well as yourself.

Understanding

The idea began when, as a clueless 13 year old in denial of any type of eating disorder throwing up three times a day, I logged on to a pro-ana site. I'd heard about them on TV, they seemed just what I needed.
No, not for thinspo, weight loss tips, or any of that other stupid shit.
I needed, wanted, yearned for understanding. A place where others would know exactly what I was feeling and putting myself through, without judging me for it.

Unfortunately, there is a stigma against those suffering from eating disorders. We are vain, or attention seeking, it's  all a "cry for help". And to be honest, I've met a few people exactly like that. I started a facebook profile specifically eating disorder related, a whole new persona, initially to vent my own feelings but then to help others. Countless times, I recieved requests on how to lose weight, people asking me for instructions about purging up food, telling me how "beautiful" being emaciated was, and how I should "keep going". These idiots would send me pictures, ask me to be diet buddies, challenge me to weight loss CONTESTS.

Yes, there are some people who fit the bill exactly. They make having an eating disorder something it really and truly isn't; they make it beautiful.

The ugly truth.

But I genuinely believe that to be a small portion of sufferers. I have met some truly brilliant people who have inspired me to take the necessary steps towards beating my demons and beginning my life again. For some people, it is about a total  lack of self esteem, a hatred of how they look, a completely distorted body image. No that isn't vanity, that's insecurity. For others, as mainly it was for me, it is a need for control. It's all too easy to feel like your life's being taken care of by other people, and you don't have a say about anything; the world is turning too fast, and in some small way, an eating disorder slows it down enough for you to catch up. It can instill order amid chaos. For a while, that can be true, until you're too far in to discover that it is the eating disorder controlling you, and drawing you further into a far more serious spiral of chaos. Some people can feel so worthless, they genuinely believe they are not good enough to eat, that they don't deserve the food in front of them. In being thin, they might hope to achieve some sort of self actualization, and feel good enough.

I'm sure everyone's experience is slightly different, but from my perspective, those three things, or more often a combination of those factors, are what contribute to an eating disorder.

So, the idea of this blog is to replace the unhealthy pro-ana community which once seemed the only source for understanding. It'll have other uses I suppose, including a particularly selfish one which might help me, venting on here. But it might also touch a nerve with some.

Here's to a brighter future.

New Years Resolution

First of all, hi, welcome to my blog.
I've been putting off starting a blog like this for a while now, it's always seemed pretty daunting to write totally honest blog posts, revealing my struggles and innermost feelings, all over the internet, with people reading them every day. Well, if people bother to come on the site in the first place of course! So, I made it a new years resolution, which is probably a bad idea since I never keep new years resolution. Last year, I decided I would keep my room tidy, and if I'm honest war zones probably look tidier.

However, this is a resolution I'm pretty determined to keep, and I'm a pretty determined kind of person. This blog is going to be an anonymous documentation of my struggles with anorexia, bullemia, self harm and depression, which have been demons I've been fighting since the age of 12. No, it isn't some kind of fucked up "pro-ana" thinspiration website, or some crazy self harm cult. I'm also not somebody who feels recoverED, I'm someone recoverING. I'll mess up, of course, but I also hope to inspire a few of you to fight the fight alongside me, because I know, don't ask how I just know, that there is something here worth fighting for.

If even one person takes some of this to heart, it'll have been worth it.
Speak soon :)