Here's a story that I keep going back to when I encounter a great deal of ignorance (or innocence, as you may like to call it).
4 EVER THIN | WORK IN PROGRESS
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Parental Concern
I'm talking about my mother, of course.
I'll never understand her, nor will I ever want to. She disturbs me on every level of her being, and hateful as it sounds, I am not just going through a hormonal phase. She's my mother, but I've never loved her. I've only ever loved her because it was something we are taught to do and it is not socially acceptable to despise your mother. I don't despise her, that is a bit harsh, but shall I say, she is not what I want to become. And that is what's scaring me.
She eats very little, I'm always nagging her about how little she eats. As a mother, she is supposed to have a positive influence on me, practising what is preached. Far from it, and she is wraith-like, wretched, mentally weak. My whole life has revolved around not becoming her, and being different to her in every way possible. So much so that I am beginning to emulate my father, who would generally be regarded as a scumbag for leaving her, but I pity him. Not for leaving my mother, he's lucky to have gotten away.
I honestly cannot believe I just said that.
Several months ago we were clothes shopping when she caught sight of a young waif-like being. She must have been about fourteen, and her forearms arms were wider than her thighs. "That girl has anorexia," my mother breathed to me, trying to be discreet. I looked over at the girl. Indeed, she was ill. But for my mother to make a prejudiced statement like that, I was taken aback. That poor girl could have been suffering from any severe illness, but instead my mother decided she was anorexic. Anorexia, as in "the diet". I cannot blame my mother's generation for perceiving anorexia nervosa to be a wonderful diet that half of young, rich white girls are on, because of the media's horrifically incorrect portrayal of the mental disease. But still, I'd never make a judgement like that.
A rye smile crept on to my face that day, the irony of it all was unbearable to hide. My poor wretched mother, speculating whether that young girl was anorexic, when her own daughter has been suffering from an eating disorder for years!
She is finally starting to notice changed patterns in me though. Today she told me that I was eating a lot less than I used to. True, but now I'm in recovery. I am eating less so I don't have to make myself vomit. Not considerably less, but my good old detective mother sure did notice. She informed me of my eating habits as she buttered a slice of toast (with low-fat butter, might I add). That was her dinner.
Only recently the woman in question was trying on dresses in a boutique in town. All of the shop assistants told her how wonderfully she could carry off that dress with her figure! They repeated over and over. My aunt agreed. Again, I looked pretty smug, because she looked wretched. If you want to look that, I later told those shop assistants (in my mind), give up your life.
But what really brought me to the computer today was my middle-aged mother's interrogations. She hassles me like I'm committing some sort of crime, one that she will not be content till she solves. It annoys me no end. I'm not a criminal, I am the victim.
She thinks that me admitting my apparently-recent problem with food will solve everything. (Still, she won't stop hassling me about not getting enough exercise). I laugh at the very thought of it.
I'm in recovery.
I'll never understand her, nor will I ever want to. She disturbs me on every level of her being, and hateful as it sounds, I am not just going through a hormonal phase. She's my mother, but I've never loved her. I've only ever loved her because it was something we are taught to do and it is not socially acceptable to despise your mother. I don't despise her, that is a bit harsh, but shall I say, she is not what I want to become. And that is what's scaring me.
She eats very little, I'm always nagging her about how little she eats. As a mother, she is supposed to have a positive influence on me, practising what is preached. Far from it, and she is wraith-like, wretched, mentally weak. My whole life has revolved around not becoming her, and being different to her in every way possible. So much so that I am beginning to emulate my father, who would generally be regarded as a scumbag for leaving her, but I pity him. Not for leaving my mother, he's lucky to have gotten away.
I honestly cannot believe I just said that.
Several months ago we were clothes shopping when she caught sight of a young waif-like being. She must have been about fourteen, and her forearms arms were wider than her thighs. "That girl has anorexia," my mother breathed to me, trying to be discreet. I looked over at the girl. Indeed, she was ill. But for my mother to make a prejudiced statement like that, I was taken aback. That poor girl could have been suffering from any severe illness, but instead my mother decided she was anorexic. Anorexia, as in "the diet". I cannot blame my mother's generation for perceiving anorexia nervosa to be a wonderful diet that half of young, rich white girls are on, because of the media's horrifically incorrect portrayal of the mental disease. But still, I'd never make a judgement like that.
A rye smile crept on to my face that day, the irony of it all was unbearable to hide. My poor wretched mother, speculating whether that young girl was anorexic, when her own daughter has been suffering from an eating disorder for years!
She is finally starting to notice changed patterns in me though. Today she told me that I was eating a lot less than I used to. True, but now I'm in recovery. I am eating less so I don't have to make myself vomit. Not considerably less, but my good old detective mother sure did notice. She informed me of my eating habits as she buttered a slice of toast (with low-fat butter, might I add). That was her dinner.
Only recently the woman in question was trying on dresses in a boutique in town. All of the shop assistants told her how wonderfully she could carry off that dress with her figure! They repeated over and over. My aunt agreed. Again, I looked pretty smug, because she looked wretched. If you want to look that, I later told those shop assistants (in my mind), give up your life.
But what really brought me to the computer today was my middle-aged mother's interrogations. She hassles me like I'm committing some sort of crime, one that she will not be content till she solves. It annoys me no end. I'm not a criminal, I am the victim.
She thinks that me admitting my apparently-recent problem with food will solve everything. (Still, she won't stop hassling me about not getting enough exercise). I laugh at the very thought of it.
I'm in recovery.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Weight Loss... Not So Great
Something really unusual happened to me yesterday. After doing Yoga, Muscle Workouts and Aerobic Exercises on Wii Fit I did my Body Test.
That's not the unusual bit, of course, I weigh myself daily with Wii Fit. But according to my Wii, I've lost 1.6kg (3.5 lbs) since yesterday.
I'm beginning to question the accuracy of the Balance Board.
Never, in the past two years of my disordered living have I lost weight.
I was suddenly overwhelmed by delight as a stupid little grin spread across my face because I just couldn't contain my little bit of joy. Naturally enough though, it didn't last very long.
Weight loss, to me, was always like a distant unobtainable goal. I always thought that losing weight was my sole intention, however, I never really thought I would achieve it.
When it occurred to me that I had accomplished (part of) my goal I began to think about my future, it shortly dawned on me that I had no future.
With my eating disorder I never really planned ahead. I acted impulsively, with short-term goals like weight loss, when really, I thought losing weight would be a long-term goal.
The frightening thing about treating weight loss as a long-term goal was that all other important goals came second to losing weight. I thought I would spend my whole life struggling with my eating disorder. But what scared me most was that I actually wanted to spend my life battling an eating disorder. I always believed I wanted to recover, when really, I wanted to think that I would recover. I made up silly excuses to myself like, 'You don't want to be messed up, you just want to lose weight.' Ironically, I know for a fact that eating disorders are not caused by the desire to lose weight, eating disorders cause the desire to lose weight.
I knew from all my experience that eating disorders make one unhappy. Why, then, did I not want to give mine up?
My eating disorder has been a part of me for almost two years now, and in those two years, I and everyone around me has changed. The whole world around me is so different now. Before I developed an eating disorder, I was looking forward to the future and I had a generally positive view of life and human beings. My eating disorder has changed that completely. I'm now bitter and cynical and dread what each day will bring. I want to stay wrapped up in my own little world, and my eating disorder has always enabled me to do that. My eating disorder has given me something to aspire to, something to distract myself with, another reason to live really. Both a reason to live and a reason to die. Something to think about so that I don't have to face the real world.
I honestly don't know who I am without my eating disorder.
I often compare eating disorders to swine flu. Just as the virus has a way of invading your body and turning your own immune system against you, eating disorders invade your mind, disrupt your mental health and change your natural mindset. Basically, it encourages you to harm yourself, to self-destruct.
Any slight bit of sanity that remains in me is alienated by this foreign body. The tiny sane bit of me is made to feel insane.
Just when I said to myself, "You can't go on forever like this," my eating disorder seemed to respond, "Are you crazy? It's the only way you can be happy."
The disordered me claims to be the real me, when I myself no longer know the real me.
The disordered me says that the wise voice speaking inside of me is simply an impostor, trying to change me.
I have always promised I would stay true to myself, but how can be myself when it seems I have lost all touch with my old self and my sanity?
Now I understand what it feels like to have a split personality.
That's not the unusual bit, of course, I weigh myself daily with Wii Fit. But according to my Wii, I've lost 1.6kg (3.5 lbs) since yesterday.
I'm beginning to question the accuracy of the Balance Board.
Never, in the past two years of my disordered living have I lost weight.
I was suddenly overwhelmed by delight as a stupid little grin spread across my face because I just couldn't contain my little bit of joy. Naturally enough though, it didn't last very long.
Weight loss, to me, was always like a distant unobtainable goal. I always thought that losing weight was my sole intention, however, I never really thought I would achieve it.
When it occurred to me that I had accomplished (part of) my goal I began to think about my future, it shortly dawned on me that I had no future.
With my eating disorder I never really planned ahead. I acted impulsively, with short-term goals like weight loss, when really, I thought losing weight would be a long-term goal.
The frightening thing about treating weight loss as a long-term goal was that all other important goals came second to losing weight. I thought I would spend my whole life struggling with my eating disorder. But what scared me most was that I actually wanted to spend my life battling an eating disorder. I always believed I wanted to recover, when really, I wanted to think that I would recover. I made up silly excuses to myself like, 'You don't want to be messed up, you just want to lose weight.' Ironically, I know for a fact that eating disorders are not caused by the desire to lose weight, eating disorders cause the desire to lose weight.
I knew from all my experience that eating disorders make one unhappy. Why, then, did I not want to give mine up?
My eating disorder has been a part of me for almost two years now, and in those two years, I and everyone around me has changed. The whole world around me is so different now. Before I developed an eating disorder, I was looking forward to the future and I had a generally positive view of life and human beings. My eating disorder has changed that completely. I'm now bitter and cynical and dread what each day will bring. I want to stay wrapped up in my own little world, and my eating disorder has always enabled me to do that. My eating disorder has given me something to aspire to, something to distract myself with, another reason to live really. Both a reason to live and a reason to die. Something to think about so that I don't have to face the real world.
I honestly don't know who I am without my eating disorder.
I often compare eating disorders to swine flu. Just as the virus has a way of invading your body and turning your own immune system against you, eating disorders invade your mind, disrupt your mental health and change your natural mindset. Basically, it encourages you to harm yourself, to self-destruct.
Any slight bit of sanity that remains in me is alienated by this foreign body. The tiny sane bit of me is made to feel insane.
Just when I said to myself, "You can't go on forever like this," my eating disorder seemed to respond, "Are you crazy? It's the only way you can be happy."
The disordered me claims to be the real me, when I myself no longer know the real me.
The disordered me says that the wise voice speaking inside of me is simply an impostor, trying to change me.
I have always promised I would stay true to myself, but how can be myself when it seems I have lost all touch with my old self and my sanity?
Now I understand what it feels like to have a split personality.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
*Trapped*
If you've ever had an eating disorder, you know exactly what it feels like to be trapped.
You know the time when you ate and could not exercise because it's way too late in the night and your parents would go nuts if they knew you were running miles at midnight.
Or when you know you cannot purge because you knew that somebody hear you in the bathroom or find your laxatives in the box under your bed. And if they found the box under your bed they'd probably also find the measuring tape, chewing gum, food diary, and those notes to yourself reminding you of the joys being thin will bring.
Then they'd know you were mentally unstable. And if they found that out, they'd make you recover by shoving food down your throat. That's certainly not what I call recovery.
Recovery is a mental state. A feeling of confidence in yourself and optimism in life. Recovery is your reason to live. Unfortunately I have not yet found recovery.
I'm still feeling trapped.
The food in my body is sliding around my stomach like corrosive acid, souring my stomach, preparing me for a purge. God my body knows me only too well.
You know the time when you ate and could not exercise because it's way too late in the night and your parents would go nuts if they knew you were running miles at midnight.
Or when you know you cannot purge because you knew that somebody hear you in the bathroom or find your laxatives in the box under your bed. And if they found the box under your bed they'd probably also find the measuring tape, chewing gum, food diary, and those notes to yourself reminding you of the joys being thin will bring.
Then they'd know you were mentally unstable. And if they found that out, they'd make you recover by shoving food down your throat. That's certainly not what I call recovery.
Recovery is a mental state. A feeling of confidence in yourself and optimism in life. Recovery is your reason to live. Unfortunately I have not yet found recovery.
I'm still feeling trapped.
The food in my body is sliding around my stomach like corrosive acid, souring my stomach, preparing me for a purge. God my body knows me only too well.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I NEED YOU!!!
Basically, I'm doing a survey on eating disorders and I want anybody that is suffering from an eating disorder or has suffered from an eating disorder in the past to take part.
The survey will involve questions on pro-ana/mia sites (whether you support them or not) and how eating disorders are presented in the media.
It will be entirely confidential, and the results will be posted on my blog.
I may post some of the survey responses on my blog, but I will privately ask you permission first, and use an alias in each case (unless, of course, you want your name to be mentioned).
If you're interested in taking part, e-mail me: wormyeyelid@gmail.com
To make this survey worthwhile I need as many responses as I can get, so I would really really appreciate your response.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Recovery
Earlier this week, I awoke with the determination to get better.
Never before have I been so certain that the end of my bulimia was nigh. But by the end of the day,
my mind had been changed completely and I was back to my old habits, starving, purging, weighing myself, measuring myself, calculating BMI, calculating Body Fat Percentage, calculating the amount of days I have left to live........
Reasons I will not recover:
-I will never have reached my goal weight
-I will gain weight
-All my efforts of the past two years will have been a waste
-I have to heal myself on my own. I am alone.
-I will not receive any encouragement to get better.
-I could give up purging and dieting, but I could never stop thinking about my weight.
-I don't know who I am without bulimia. My life has changed so much in the past two years the only thing that has remained constant is my desire to lose weight. It's part of me now.
Reasons I should recover:
-I will stop ruining my teeth.
-I will decrease my chances of getting oesophagal cancer.
-My diabetes should improve.
-I will learn to love myself.
-I will have the capacity to love others.
-I will have the ability to feel emotions that I haven't felt since developing bulimia.
-I will learn to think of other things apart from my weight.
-As a result of the above, my grades will improve.
-I will feel better, I will be healthier, fitter, stronger, more confident...
Recovery, at this stage, seems impossible to me.
But never before this week have I come so close to considering recovery.
And it's a start.
Never before have I been so certain that the end of my bulimia was nigh. But by the end of the day,
my mind had been changed completely and I was back to my old habits, starving, purging, weighing myself, measuring myself, calculating BMI, calculating Body Fat Percentage, calculating the amount of days I have left to live........
Reasons I will not recover:
-I will never have reached my goal weight
-I will gain weight
-All my efforts of the past two years will have been a waste
-I have to heal myself on my own. I am alone.
-I will not receive any encouragement to get better.
-I could give up purging and dieting, but I could never stop thinking about my weight.
-I don't know who I am without bulimia. My life has changed so much in the past two years the only thing that has remained constant is my desire to lose weight. It's part of me now.
Reasons I should recover:
-I will stop ruining my teeth.
-I will decrease my chances of getting oesophagal cancer.
-My diabetes should improve.
-I will learn to love myself.
-I will have the capacity to love others.
-I will have the ability to feel emotions that I haven't felt since developing bulimia.
-I will learn to think of other things apart from my weight.
-As a result of the above, my grades will improve.
-I will feel better, I will be healthier, fitter, stronger, more confident...
Recovery, at this stage, seems impossible to me.
But never before this week have I come so close to considering recovery.
And it's a start.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I believe there is a reason for everything.
There is a reason I have to face what I'm experiencing at the moment, a positive consequence aswell as a negative one. While people often only contemplate on the negative one, they fail to recognise the small, but somewhat significant advantage of having a problem, namely, bulimia.
It is beyond me how I will recover, I just don't see that happening. I'm not ready to get better and I will not be for the forseeable future. Recovery is a distant dream for me at the moment.
Bulimia is a cruel addiction, an addiction to self-harm. It is not something anybody should ever wish for, so please excuse all those young pro-anas and pro-mias out there. Typically, they are teenage girls confused by how harmful eating disorders are to the body and the soul. Pro-ana and pro-mia sites websites sicken me, yet I excuse them for I am well aware that the authors are suffering from mental illnesses.
I can't honestly see a future for me without bulimia, but I'm hoping to God there is one.
Wow I am starving. It's so nice outside I could kill for an ice-cream. Yum. Ice-cream binge. Uh-oh. It's the one thing I always binge on, and I just can't fight cravings now that I've got my period back. Oh well.
There is a reason I have to face what I'm experiencing at the moment, a positive consequence aswell as a negative one. While people often only contemplate on the negative one, they fail to recognise the small, but somewhat significant advantage of having a problem, namely, bulimia.
It is beyond me how I will recover, I just don't see that happening. I'm not ready to get better and I will not be for the forseeable future. Recovery is a distant dream for me at the moment.
Bulimia is a cruel addiction, an addiction to self-harm. It is not something anybody should ever wish for, so please excuse all those young pro-anas and pro-mias out there. Typically, they are teenage girls confused by how harmful eating disorders are to the body and the soul. Pro-ana and pro-mia sites websites sicken me, yet I excuse them for I am well aware that the authors are suffering from mental illnesses.
I can't honestly see a future for me without bulimia, but I'm hoping to God there is one.
Wow I am starving. It's so nice outside I could kill for an ice-cream. Yum. Ice-cream binge. Uh-oh. It's the one thing I always binge on, and I just can't fight cravings now that I've got my period back. Oh well.
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