I only disclosed my diagnosis to maybe 2 or 3 people and even then I didn’t explain the extent of the situation. I was constantly trying to prove that I was just a normal happy girl, even though I was dying inside. Last year, I decided to stop fighting it. I disclosed my diagnosis to all of my family and friends and was both humbled and surprised by the amount of support that I received. This was the best decision I could have ever made. Now that I am able to be open and honest about my diagnosis, I feel like I can live my true self. I can show the world the real me.
I have won my eating disorder but I had to fight like hell. I had no option but to be strong. We had a great relationship until I realized it was fooling me and I was really hurting. To you ED you are the reason my life was so difficult, but you are not the reason I am stronger today. That is because of me. After all you put me through I chose not to let my entire life be consumed by your foolish and tricky ways. I keep choosing recovery every day 7 times a week without you.
On the bright side, although I continue to cycle through depression, mania and mixed states, for the last year I have been consistenly happier than I can ever remember and am very optimistic about what the future holds. I have rediscovered my spiritual beliefs, made significant positive improvement in family relations which have been horribly, but not irrevocably damaged.
This has been a classic American Tragedy and I hope my experiences educate, and, hopefully, help someone else who is struggling. Even If no one reads this, it has been very helpful to publicly acknowledge my condition and continue to move forward with my life.
I have come to know more people who suffer in these shadowed places, friends and family who ache with the pressing waves of anxiety and depression and what comes to feel like shame in the suffering. And I ache to help relieve them. May this place and the people here help you find peace and a joy that can wrap around you when you begin to feel overwhelmed. We stand with you.
I don’t like the way people look at me: as though I’m completely helpless. Everybody does because I’m completely dressed in scars, from head to toe.
I used to hide away in my room because I couldn’t stand the striking feeling of eyes on me. I had very few friends and still do due to social anxiety. I get scared of the simplest of things.
The next day I was at school and for some reason I just lost it. I found myself in the guidance counselors office bawling my eyes out. I told her everything. Before this, no one knew about my depression. I never told because I didn’t think I had a reason to be depressed. I had food in my stomach, clothes on my back and a roof over my head.