Our stories
 

This is my story of how I arrived here today. Some of you have already heard it. Feel free to add your own.

I use to post everywhere on this site, but I get really frustrated sometimes by the lack of action there is for some. I want to help but you can't lose weight for someone else. Besides coming to terms with my ED is somewhat embarassing. And I guess that is probably a good story to tell. First short time line to catch you up, I came to NE with my ex-husband in 1988, before this I was a military brat and a wanderer. Some how NE man continue to appeal to me and keep me here ;)

My struggle with food and weightloss go as far back as I remember. Not really a fat child, in comparrison to both my petite sisters I felt huge. So I acted out in as many ways possible from starving to drug use to getting married. This resulted in my second marriage at 15, closet bullemia, and dropping out of HS after my freshman year. By 17 I had given a child up for adoption, was twice divorced, and completely crazy when it came to food. And then I met my husband Tod.

His family was a real family. I was loved and accepted just as I was. While I was pregnant with my son my MIL helped me get my GED and I went to college and got an AS in Pre-Physician Asst and a BS in Chemistry. I also bloomed to 210 lbs and Dr. Dean Ornish and I spent a year busting my butt down to 123 lbs. My DH acted out by gambling and sleeping with other women. Our finances in ruin, our marriage almost completely destroyed, back into drug use up to my ears, and almost flunking out of college I slowly ebbed up to 200 lbs. I somehow managed to graduate and then I started working at a pharmaceutical company. I became a workaholic , not looking at myself at all, and in complete denial I met my highest weight ever of 265 lbs.

Then I got hired by my current company. It was physical and there were many bets that I wouldn't make it. Physical activity alone dropped me to 230 lbs. Busting my butt I found 175 lbs again and then my grandfather died. The minor background of depression that had been my life exploded. Drug use, lying in bed feeling desperate and regretful, losing my house, I was dying and 230 lbs. was once again in my future.

After losing the house I woke up one day and could not face another day of drug abuse. I looked in the mirror. I had holes in my face, scars on my body, I was cutting myself to feel. I cut off all the druggies in my life, and finally got sober. I got a promotion at work, and I stabilized at 221 lbs. Then I found this wonderful place.

The motivation alone got me down to 200 and then my ED started to show. I was in denial, and began the cycle of bingeing and purging. I found BFL and was able to get down to 185, but I also found a new way to beat myself up and purge--the gym. All or nothing person I am, a free week turned into free months and last summer I met 230 lbs. again. I was a Monday morning motivator.

Someone I work with who's mother has an ED pointed out to me that I seemed obsessive with food, and pointed me towards the Kay Sheppard book, "From the First Bite". I ordered the book upon the suggestion, anything to lose weight. In the interim and desperate I turned to BFL again. But I couldn't get the food together, so I excercised more and more. October 21,2003 God said enough. I fell at work over a 3/4 inch hose and broke my elbow. My Dr. said ALL WEIGHTLIFTING was out for 6-8 weeks. And all the sudden Kay's book showed up. It mentioned OA and I went for 6 days straight bingeing before and after every meeting, and knowing its where I belonged.

An Atkins food plan, 2 sponsors, physical therapy, and acknowledgement that I couldn't do this myself, and I would have to let God in or stay desperate and I was abstinent for 2 months. I lost it 2 days after Christmas. I was letting the food plan be the God of my life. I started slowly keeping Atkins eating and slowly introducing good carbs, my abstinence became simple, "No bingeing". So I wouldn't binge, but if I ate any food that made me feel guilty I was back to purging. I found 180 lbs again and lived 4 months free of bingeing.

Fights with my husband over my program and I wanted to give up. I turned my back on God and my program and ate and purged. After the purging was kicking my booty I got a therapist. Now I put things in perspective instead of all or nothing I have decided with this kind of history, that things could be worse.

God is the answer to my sanity, He loves me and I am a beautiful daughter of God. I will have growth out of all of this. It has been 5 days since I purged and I have taken a recommitment step to my program. This I take one day at a time, because the truth is that is all we have. Our past is the cashed check, and the future is an IOU.

The weight seems less important to me than ever, but I am hanging out again in the 180's. I still have 2 sponsors and by God's grace and love will continue on this journey to whatever my goal weight is suppose to be.

I have found Yoga and meditation to be very helpful on this journey and setting myself up for success. My identified talents are communication, connectedness, input, winning others over, and intellection. From this moment I want to make this story about someone who moves forward with love, caring, compassion, and living in God's will for me.

Chris

:grouphug: Chris, big hugs to you! What a brave post!

I will share my story when I get back from Kansas City on Sunday - I promise! (We have adoption in common - something I never knew!)

I promised Chris I would share, too. It's tough admitting all your foibles, isn't it?

I am meditating and praying about certain things, but in the meantime, I can share this part of my story: I, too, grew up not fat, but thinking (and being told) I was. I also have a good deal of abandonment issues, which is a big reason I think I turned to food. I never knew my biological father. My mom met him when she was 19, and she will admit that the only thing they had in common was sex. In hindsight, she thinks he might even have been married. He left for Vietnam before I was born. My mom wrote to him, told him she was pregnant, and sent him a picture of me after I was born. She never heard from him again. I know he made it back, because his name's not on the Wall. When I was two and a half, my mom married my stepdad. They married in October and my sister was born in April - you do the math. ;) From the beginning, my stepdad made me feel hinky, and I don't think he much gave a **** about me, either. My mom wanted him to adopt me, but he never went through with it. He never learned to spell my name correctly. He was an angry hitter and I was terrified of him. When I was 11, he started to touch me inappropriately. In hindsight, the signs were all there - I had to be forced to bathe, wouldn't brush my teeth or my hair, drew inward - but I guess because I didn't say anything verbally, no one caught on. I finally stood up to him one day. A week or so later, he left my mom in the middle of the night (she worked nights). I knew then that I wasn't the cause - he'd been carrying on affairs for years - and I was frankly glad he was gone. My mom and my sister, though, were absolutely devastated. My mom became a functional alcoholic for a while, and I became her confidant. She would cry. I was 11. I didn't know how to help. My sister would cry. She missed her daddy. I hated his slimy guts, but knew I couldn't tell her that.

Fast forward a year. I had hit puberty full on and was a curvaceous young woman - not fat, curvaceous. Meanwhile, my sister had become "the pretty one" and I had become "the smart one." My mother once told me (I **** you not), "You might grow up to be pretty, but you will never be beautiful." And then my mom met another slimy man. He was only six years my senior and he moved in when I was in 8th grade. My mom decided her children were no longer important. She was never there anymore. I remember distinctly asking her for a ride somewhere when I was 13 and she virtually exploded with rage. "Dammit!" she said. "I'm tired of being a mom! It's MY turn!" Ouch. On top of that, the relationship between her boyfriend and I was nothing less than antagonistic. I remember when I was still in junior high, he slammed my head against the garage door frame and gave me a bloody nose. When I was in 9th grade, he started peeking at me while I slept. I didn't tell. I didn't think anyone would believe me. I thought I would be accused of making it up because I didn't like him.

Meanwhile, I'm feeling progressively more and more empty inside. I thought a boyfriend would fix it. I didn't have one, so I turned to food. My first real diet was in 8th grade: a peanut butter sandwich with no jelly and lots and lots of TAb. That was all I allowed myself to eat each day. Every once in a while, I'd treat myself with an apple. I lost about 30 pounds in six weeks. I was 5'4" and weighed about 103 lbs. I must have looked absolutely anorexic, but everyone told me how fabulous I looked. Enter the yo-yo dieting, with periods of anorexia. (No bulimia for me - I tried it once and I decided I hate to barf.)

Fast forward to the middle of 10th grade. I find my first serious boyfriend. He's a mess. He mother is a horrible, controlling monster and his dad is a Casper Milquetoast. We share a crappy home life in common. That summer, he knocks me up. I spend my junior year of high school pregnant and denying it vehemently. Meanwhile, boyfriend is spiraling into drugs and alcohol. His mother kicks him out, and he lives in front of my house in his car. He can't hold a job for ten seconds. That May, I give birth to a baby boy. Boyfriend has some delusion that we can be a happy family, but in the meantime, he's become abusive and possessive, threatening to commit suicide when I want to go on a school trip without him. I put my foot down and made him sign the adoption papers. Relinquishing that child was the hardest thing I have ever done, but it was the only thing I could have done. (An aside: I found him last year. His name is Greg. He turned 20 in May. He's a junior in college. I have spoken with his parents on the phone. They seem like wonderful, caring people. They gave him a great deal of opportunities he never would have had with a 16 year old mom. He's not ready to meet me yet. Hopefully, someday he will be.)

That summer, a wonderful angel named Scott came into my life. He was the catalyst that led to me finally breaking up with my boyfriend. (No, I didn't date him. He was gay.) Boyfriend stalked me. He eventually stopped - don't know why. Glad he did. Haven't seen him since.

But, at home, it was still shitty. I fought with my mom every single day - screaming, horrible, ugly, name-calling, door-slamming fights. I begged her to go to counseling with me, and she told me that I was just a spoiled brat and that *I* was the problem, not her, and she wasn't going to have some egghead tell her what a horrible mother she was. Her boyfriend beat the holy **** out of me one day. I called the cops. Mom told me to call them back because it would make boyfriend even madder if he had to go to jail. I did. The dispatcher asked me if I was sure. I said yes. No one came. Wish they had.

My sister finally spoke up and told my mom that Boyfriend had been touching her. Mom reacted the way I thought she would - she got angry and accused my sister of making it up because she didn't like him. I didn't say anything. I don't know why. I owe my sister an apology. My sister told her again a few days later and that time - for some reason - mom finally believed her. She kicked boyfriend out of the house, BUT CONTINUED TO DATE HIM!!!!!

Meanwhile, I'm making half-hearted suicide attempts....

more later.

Jenelle-
Only share as much as you feel you should. But OMG I love you. Your beautiful. And as you said to me lat night, we have survived what would kill others. In the sexual abuse your not alone, I am just not ready to dredge all that crap up. God your brave. (((((((Big HUG)))))))))))
Love,
Chris

continuing the story...

but it's kind of comical in a dark way because no one catches on. On the outside, I'm pretending to be put together, but I'm afraid to succeed. I score a 780 (out of 800) on the verbal section of my SAT, but I pass senior English only because I wrote the dedication for the yearbook and it was really really good and it also happened to be about my English teacher. (Mr. DeLong - a wonderful man, God rest his soul. He died of cancer three years later.) I want to go to college, but the paperwork frightens me and my mom won't help. ("If you really want it," she says, "you'll do it yourself." But it's not a matter of wanting, it's a matter of not understanding where in the **** I'm supposed to start!) I decided to join the military reserves under the guise of getting money for college, but what I really wanted was to get the **** out from under my mom's roof.

I graduated high school on my 18th birthday and left for boot camp in Florida two weeks later. It was very, very hard, but I came out of there with a strong sense of accomplishment and a kick-*** body. I was there for a school for a month after I graduated boot camp, and woo-eeee did I sow some wild oats! At the time, the drinking age in Florida was 18 if you had a green military ID. Also, I was blessed (or cursed, maybe) with the fact that (a) I looked fabulous and (b) no one knew anything about me or my history. Unfortunately, I was still looking for that love, and I didn't understand there was a difference between love and sex (THAT one took me a looooong time to figure out!). I had lots of "boyfriends."

Then I go back home. I'd tasted independence and it was fine. :) In my mom's eyes, I was still a child. We still fought constantly. I started going to the local junior college at her insistence - for about three weeks. I hated it, but couldn't tell her, so I just kept on pretending I was going. I had more "boyfriends." I got in a huge fight over curfew (I was 18 and had NEVER had a curfew before!) and packed my bags. "If you walk out that door, don't come back," my mom said while my sister screamed at her to stop. I walked out - back to my angel Scott. His mom let me stay there for a few days and encouraged me to be the bigger person and call my mom. I did. I went back until that summer, when I went to San Diego on two weeks active duty. I had a "boyfriend" or two, and then I met the man who would be my husband.

boom. just like that. I knew the minute I met him that I would marry him. When I flew home, I cried so hard on the airplane that the stewardess even got misty-eyed. A week later, armed with nothing but a map, hubby-to-be showed up on my doorstep. I left with him that night.

I also left my sister. I don't know her story and I can't presume to be in her head, but I know our home affected her in some ways, too. She turned to drugs and alcohol for a few years, but thank God got her wake-up call and left it all behind. I know that I couldn't have helped her by staying because I was such a mess myself. I hope she understands. I think she does.

Meanwhile, my life hasn't been perfect. There have been problems. There's been loneliness. A few years ago, I almost left hubby because he wouldn't stop looking at Internet porn. (Really, what hurt worst was the he promised he'd stop, said he'd stopped, but I caught him time and time again.) It sent me into an anorexic spiral for a while. I have a hard time believing myself to be beautiful, but there's a lot of evidence that I am. When I'm not beating myself up by abusing food, I must have some sort of glow because I get hit on a lot. That's scary too, though. I have a lot to lose and can devastate a lot of people if I don't pay close attention to the difference between love and needing to feel "loved."

I am a child of God. And I am beautiful. :)

the end

wait. a p.s. - Scott died a few months ago after a short illness. My sister called me and said she'd seen the obituary in the local paper. I wrote a letter to his mom telling him how he'd affected my life and how blessed I was by him. I hope to meet him in heaven some day and tell him myself.

wow, you guys how touching, or rather how similar we are. I know I've never posted in this forum but only because I hate to admit to anyone, even myself that I ever had any sort of problems. I'll try the short version hope I don't bore you...

I was born in Michigan when my mom and dad were 17 he eventually left for reasons unknown but I've heard conflicting stories. I've never met him but would love to someday. My mom then married my younger sisters dad and he was absolutely horrible to me and my mom, frequent beatings were a staple in that house, not being fed, being locked in a room for days on end with no water or food, I once drank from a toilet because I was soo thirsty. Mind you none of this was my moms fault, she worked 3 jobs to take care of us, she made all of our clothes by hand so we always looked nice, it was that evil man who didn't give a ****! He is the only person that I wish death on.
Anyway, after a huge fight with him one night he held a knife to my moms throat which I saw happen and then held us hostage, we snuck out in the middle of the night with just what we could fit in a few backpacks. Started over with nothing, moved to Montana, mom married another jerk, beatings again, same ol same ol....mom claims she never knew....I wonder sometimes :(

HighSchool came, I was 118 lbs all through high school 118 lbs at 5'4" not too shabby, but I always thought I was fat, I used ipecac to make myself sick and would binge and purge daily. I had a diary even that I had a code for how much I ate and then how much I threw back up. I didn't have a great relationship with my mother during this time, she always thought I was doing stuff that I wasn't in fact doing. Well all the accusations drove me to do the stuff she thgouth I was doing all along. I started small, smoking cigs, then to pot, tried some crank, drank lightly.

Well I started to get along with my mom so I moved back with her for a few months then I became a nanny and moved to the east coast. It was great and I was actually living healthy. Then I met a guy, who was a weight freak!! I dated him for 2 years. He brought my ED back to the surface, he didn't ever want me eating anything with fat in it or high calorie etc ...you get the picture, once he even told me that I could put the food in my mouth and chew it "just don't swallow it, spit it in the garbage" Well thats when I started cutting, My arms are now covered in scars, some more visable than others, but all there...So I was cutting, and binging and purging it was an endless cycle. I got out of that relationship and lived clean for a bit well besides drinking and meaninless sex....I met another man, who got me hooked on crack cocaine, I can't even remember the first time I did it....anyway, the drugs were great, only in the fact that they made me sick to my stomach and high, so I didn't have to worry about throwing my food up as the drugs would make me do it, my cutting got worse and worse. Finally one night I was so high that I knew if i took one more hit I was going to die so I slept it off for 3 days, woke up and did some more....I called my mom and told her I needed to come home, so she brought me home, well people continued to send me coke in the mail so I was still getting f'd up and not doing what I had moved back home to do. I had 10 oz sent to me in a Jiffy muffin mix box and proceeded to do the lot of it with a guy I was sleeping with, well it took us about a day to do it, and in a drug induced night of meaningless sex, I got pregnant with my first daughter, I was clean thankfully up til I found out I was pregnant, well let me tell you about this little girl....She saved my life!! I would be dead now if it hadn't been for god giving me this blessing of a child, she was truely my life saver!! I got clean with no problems at all, I've completely stopped doing drugs, drinking, and cutting. Her father of course wanted no part of her which is fine by me. I met the man who is my husband when I was 5 months pregnant with dd #1 we got married a week after my dd turned one, we just had our second child in october amid a few medical scares which again god brought me through and made me stronger. We discovered I have a thyroid disorder which caused me to gain over 100 lbs in 2 years!! I'm now on hormone replacement, and take a weight loss med to help. I'm trying to do this the right way now, although I will admit, that there are days....but its becoming less and less. I thank god everyday for my angels and my dh. On a side note, my hubby does know of my past drug use but to this day he doesn't know of my B&P or my cutting, he's seen the scars either he knows and doesn't want to make me feel bad or he knows and he's not sure he wants to know the **** I went through at that time in my life.

Ok thats my story, you get the gist of it, thanks for letting me share, I needed to get that out of me.

Michelle - hugs to you for being brave! The one time I tried purging, I used ipecac, too. I found out later that you can actually die if you take too much of it!

I am blessed to know such wonderful, amazing women.

:love:

Chris

Thanks for letting me share with you guys!!! I really needed to come to terms with this stuff and finally get it out :) :grouphug:

Michelle

Here I am
 

Hello out there,

As a suggestion by my therapist, I want to recall my life within the past 2yrs. I'm recovering from a severe eating disorder that almost defeated me, and today, I'm still not aware of what really happened. I've never been overweight, just average I guess, until my junior yr. in college when I met a guy I worked with.. A relationship started and I was in love, a first for myself. It wasn't a few months afterward when i noticed that my clothes felt looser and people began to compliment me on my new "weight loss". I guess with classes, work, life, my relationship, I just didn't eat as much. With the compliments and new self awareness, I begin to actually watch what I ate, and for the next two years, it spiraled into a deadly trap. I normally wore a size 12, and by this time of last year, i was wearing a size 12 in little girls. Over 80pds were gone, I weighed 77pds on a 5'6 frame. Statiscally I should be dead, and I know it was the good Lord that kept me living. I was in Louisville after getting my degree, working as a correctional officer at a state prison. It still blows my mind in how I actually worked all day long, supervising all those inmates, and I couldn't even walk up stairs or bend down b/c I had no muscle at all. I remember some times when I woke up, my body would be like a fish.. I was nothing but dry skin all over b/c I had cut my consumption of diet rite to just a half a can a day. I ate just once, consisting of a few babbt carrots, a small handful of broccoli and cauliflower, and sometimes I added some pretzles. At lunch time at work, I ate a half of a cracker, just to let myself enjoy "lunch". I knew I was skinny and dying, but I couldn't find that comfort zone in which i felt to start eating again. Until that day, August 29th 2003, I finally went back home to my doctor and thank god for her. Out of all the hundreds of people, she made sense to me. I was put on Lexapro, and it wasn't until October that I started to eat. It was great, but yet, I hated it b/c I was losing that body I worked so hard for.. But I was eating for my sister. She died when I was 12 with an eating disorder also, and I couldn't let this disorder defeat me also. Oddly enough, we both dated the same brothers who were in our lives when our eating disorder started. I still don't know what to think about that. Now it's today, I'm healthy, but still continue to fight it everyday. I've accepted i'm going to live with this all my life and I'll always have my safe foods, and do not eat foods. I'm a different person, both physically and mentally. Maybe one day, I'll accept myself for who I am. I believe it was destiny that brought me through that vicious cycle of my life, and a part of me believes had to beat this disease because my sister couldn't.
That's my story in a nutshell.. It's very much more detailed with alot more odd twists, but I think what I wrote is odd enough LOL.
Hope all is well in your guys part of the world,
Peace,
Vanessa

Welcome Vanessa,
Thank you for sharing. Thank you for your hope. God has big plans for you, he has sent people to keep you here. Welcome.

:grouphug:
Chris

VAnessa welcome!! Thanks so much for sharing! You are a strong woman to come through that :)
:grouphug:

Vanessa - I'm so glad you are still here to share your story with us! Keep coming back. :)

People often say that they use food as a substitute for love. It is usually a subconscious thing. The scent of a turkey roasting in the oven might bring to mind grandma's house on Thanksgiving. You always serve yourself with the big spatula when you encounter a lasagna "just like mom used to make." Ice cream and doughnuts are just happy; they bring to mind special Sundays at the park. And the extras! Only getting a dollop of whipped cream on top of your pie biannually definitely amplifies its appeal.

The physical sensations certainly add to the feeling of love. First you encounter the mouth-feel. Marshmallows and mashed potatoes: it feels good even to say them! At this very moment food chemists are working feverishly in their kitchen-laboratories to calculate exactly how hydrogenated a product must be to melt lovingly in your mouth, yet have stability you can depend upon.

And what is a love affair without feeling satisfaction? A nice happy full tummy makes you feel warm and secure and content.

When these elements are combined with a proper diet, there is nothing wrong with such a love affair with food. In fact tasting more, savoring your food, reveling in your love for it, will not cause you to be a glutton. It will encourage an appreciation for every aspect of your food, so that you slow down and enjoy.

Those are all very normal associations to have with food.

I think that my food associations took a wrong turn somewhere in my childhood. You see, my mother actually taught me that food means love. I don't mean that figuratively. There are probably a lot of people who feel that all mothers "teach" their children that cooking comes from the heart and that food is made with love. My mother literally said to me many, many times that food means love. Of all the lessons that she tried to pound into my hard little head, this was one that she was most unrelenting in teaching.

Every time that I did not want to eat any part of my dinner, she would tell me that it was because I did not love her, and I was rejecting her love.

As most teenagers do, I did go through a phase where I was rejecting her love. I will not blame my mother completely for my myriad eating disorders; I certainly had the body image issues that all high school girls have. To tell the truth, I still have the body image issues that many women have. But I believe that while I was a teenager, my conscious choice not to eat was also a not-so-subconscious rejection of my mother’s love.

One fall day when I was a teenager, I was sitting at the dining room table moving my mother’s love around on my plate and making interesting designs using my fork and finger. She told me for at least the thousandth time that I was doing that because I did not love her and I was rejecting her love. I finally told her that she was right. I was not going to eat it because I did not love her and I didn’t want her love. Her reply was that I could not stop her from loving me. To prove it, she sat down on top of me and began cramming the contents of my combination platter into my face. When I clamped my mouth shut so that the love wasn’t allowed in the conventional way, she just shoved it into my nose and ears; the mouth wasn’t available, so the other head openings would have to do.

Hm. She forced her love on me ... couldn’t that be considered rape?

These sorts of lessons stick with a kid. Later in life, when I was feeling unloved, I would eat. I eat to the point that I am satisfied. And I will think I need more, because even though I have enough right now, my love stores are usually running close to empty. So I eat more. I eat to the point that I feel pain. And I think I need more, because the love might help to heal it. And I eat more. I eat to the point that I am nauseous and in incredible pain. And I eat more, because I probably deserve to feel that way since I am unworthy of love. I eat an insane amount. I eat in one sitting more than I would normally eat in a week. Then I feel guilty and gluttonous. The love hurts so bad. I just took it in such excess and was so undeserving of it. So I let it go.

I know that I have a problem in my head with my weight. But that plays such a small part in my binges. I am really thinking of the food as love when I do this. Love is the foremost thought in my mind.

Puberty was a difficult time. Anorexia was being glamorized – I mean "castigated" - by the media in full force during the early nineties, and it was also all the rage for our health class at school. This is how I learned that I could reverse the effects of puberty if I would dedicate myself a little more to not eating. I wanted nothing to do with having a period, and I was also hoping that I could rid myself of the roundness in my hips and bust in order to cause my attacker to become disinterested.

Alas, my insatiable hunger for consumable love combined with Scandinavian genetics would not allow me to revert to a boyish figure. I spent more and more time farther and farther away from home in order to avoid my molester and my mother as well. Many times I would ride my bike to get a backpack full of food to find myself at a secluded spot by the river in order to binge and purge. I would watch the eddies of vomit as they drifted down stream; not even repulsed by it, but thinking rather coldly of my actions as something that must be done.

During a moment of weakness at a church retreat I told a lady from our church that I was bulimic. She looked at me without veiling her incredulity and snorted a laugh without bothering to stifle it and declared, "you are much too fat to have an eating disorder."

It was then that I realized what a horrible failure I was. I was puking out nearly everything I put into my mouth, and yet I was still within the normal weight range. On top of that, here I was telling the church lady I was bulimic – obviously just to get attention.

Years passed, and dental bills soared as regurgitated stomach acid ate away at my tooth enamel – but I continued to be too fat for an eating disorder, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone questioning it. I just kept staying farther and farther from home more and more often.

Eventually I married an abusive man. He reawakened in me my hatred for my own body. Not only was it ugly, but the fact that it was a woman's body allowed it to have all manner of atrocities performed upon it. I hated myself and my body and I hated being a woman; I was sure that I was completely undeserving of love from anyone.

Financially lean times combined with the knowledge that I was unlovable and the desire to stop being a woman were the fuel for my "success" with anorexia. I would go nine or ten months without having a period and would delight at this small control I had over my own person. My husband was in charge of where my body would be at every minute of every day – but at least I could be in charge of its functions.

My husband’s job moved us across the country and into an apartment that was next to a wonderful woman who soon became my best friend. She enabled me to break free from that marriage. It was quite a struggle that took years. I do not wish to revisit any part of it, but I am glad to say that I no longer have contact with him whatsoever and thank God we never produced any offspring together.

Now here I am, almost a decade later. I am married to a wonderful man. I did it right this time. We were best friends for years before we got married.

I am beginning to heal. It has only been five months since I realized and accepted the fact that yes, I really, really do indeed have an eating disorder – regardless of the fact that I seem to be about normal weight (or "too fat"). I have not purged at all since this epiphany. I don’t know that I will never do it again – but so far so good.

I have been lurking here for some time, reading your posts. The support and love you give to one another is fabulous. I really do want to be a part of your group, and not just a lurker anymore.

Linoleum - It always amazes me just how much our stories have in common. Welcome :) We're glad you're here.

Linoleum- I just want to hug you girl. Welcome. I could see myself in almost every line. I am too fat to have an eating disorder too. That was wonderful. :grouphug:

Chris

Linoleum, Thanks so much for sharing your story and welcome!!! I too am too fat to have an ED. So glad you moved from a lurker to a speaker. Its great to have you.

Michellle

Thank you all so much. :grouphug:

Wow...you are all so very brave and I want to give you all a huge hug! :grouphug:

Thanks for posting and helping me feel less weird! I totally am with you, Linoleum, on what you said regarding your binges...that's exactly how I feel when I do them, too.

http://www.eating.ucdavis.edu/speaki...imia/jill.html

There are a bunch of stories at this site, so we know we are not alone. I direct linked to this one, because though our stories are different I feel the same if that makes sense.

Love ya'll!
Chris

Oh wow!! That was wonderful and haunting at the same time so much of it sent the chills of recognition up my spine! Thanks for sharing that Chris!!

BTW you have a gorgeous smile :) I love the new avatar pic!
Michelle

Ready to share a bit...(long)
 

This isn’t going to be my whole story, by any means. But it is something that I’ve never told anyone before and I need to put it aside. I’ve come to realize that hanging onto it is making it my truth and I don’t want it to be anymore. I guess that sounds freaky or corny…

My whole ED is about self-hatred. My past doesn’t have men who mistreated me or problems with drug/alcohol abuse. Other than a terrible relationship with my mother, there’s no *reason* for me to be a compulsive overeater! Food is my way of punishing myself for being all of the terrible things I convince myself I am.

Okay…the story.

Two years ago on a parent-teacher conference night I finished up about 20 minutes early. I was sitting at a table at the back of my classroom sorting through notes and straightening things up. The conferences had gone well and I was feeling pretty good about myself, my job, life in general.

I became aware of some people talking outside my classroom door. I didn’t think anything of it as the building had been filled with parents and children for hours. Since I wasn’t busy with a conference of my own, I could hear what they were saying.

“Eww! That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!” “Wonder what it’s doing?” etc.

Without thinking, I glanced up from my work to look out the window in my door.

“Oh God! It’s looking at me!” “No wonder they keep it behind bars.” This was followed by laughter and slaps on the back.

I realized to my complete and utter humiliation that they were looking into my room and talking about me. I lowered my eyes as quickly as I could and pretended to be working again. My face was flushed with embarrassment and I had to swallow several times to get the lump out of my throat. Tears stung my eyes and I prayed “please, Lord, don’t let me cry.” I felt literally sick.

It was so hard to get myself together to be able to walk out of the school like a professional woman rather than a hurt child. I couldn’t tell anyone about it because I was too horrified.

I’ve kept it to myself and taken it out once in awhile to try on like a piece of clothing. I can wrap myself in that memory and it fits. Those people – who I didn’t even know…had never even seen before – judged me and found me lacking. And because their insults fit with my perception of myself, I took them to be true and accurate.

I want to believe that I am more than strangers’ assessment of my physical appearance, but when it meshes so completely with what I already feel then it’s hard to dismiss as just asinine comments from some anonymous @#$holes. Does that make any sense at all?

Anyway, I share this not looking for pity. I just want to put it out there away from me to let it go. Kind of like when Chris says she’s tying things to those balloon strings. Only this I’m giving cement shoes to sink into some murky depths somewhere. It certainly doesn’t deserve to go heavenward!

Thanks for listening. I really do feel a little better now!

Christy

I t always amazes me how much other people's opinions matter. It's like when I was a teenager and went to brake up with a boy. And then he said that it was fine, he was about to break up with me anyway. Then suddenly, I was hurt and offended. But I was about to break up with him, but it didn't matter...we are always looking for approval.

How very brave of you to share your story. I hope it frees your spirit. I wish other people could only see our beautiful souls. (((HUGS)))

The creeps outside the door!
 

ElizaBecca, were those ADULTS who said those things? Obnoxious kids?

It's hurtful regardless. I was just curious.

What age group do YOU teach?

You're right--I think those comments caught you in a bad moment where you were in a place to believe them. I'm sorry that you had that experience. This might be an opportunity to vow that as you work with your OWN students, that you'll help them on the path to becoming compassionate adults. Someday...when it's less tender, and depending on the age group you teach, that experience might even be something you can share with a kid who is hurting. It's those kind of connections, sharing who you really are, that can really have an impact on a kid's life.

One day, one of my high school kids was doing some make-up work after hours. She was definitely a kid at risk (had an abusive adult boyfriend--mind you, she's 14; had some history of cutting herself; drugs, etc). She mentioned something about bulimia or anorexia, and--because the time felt right, I shared with her that I had been bulimic at times in my adult life. That startled her, I could tell, and after that there was a tiny little special bond we had. She started coming after school more often to do extra work and ended up pulling her grade up from D to nearly an A by the end of the term.

I'm new here, but I can already tell that this is a wonderful group of people with a lot to share. I'm glad I found you guys, and I'm glad that you felt safe enough to share that story.

Of course, ElizaBecca, the SHORT response to your post (and to those awful people outside your door) is "my gosh, what a bunch of ignorant schmucks!" But I didn't want you guys to think I was rude. :lol:

LLS

Christy we love you!! Hugs to you my dear!!

Christy, I so know what you mean. And if I can't destroy myself, I will definitely destroy your peception of me. We just got to replace those tapes with the, I am not allowed to judge me, only God is. And I know we all are doing the best we can today. God I just want to hug you girlie. :grouphug:

:wave: Welcome LLS!
Chris

What a relief!
 

Thanks, everyone, for your kind words. I actually came back here twice yesterday with the intention of deleting my post because I was ashamed. Then I realized that feeling shame was giving that one minute episode in my life the power to hurt me again and again. So I left my story and, honestly, I feel better for it. (Of course, in the back of my mind I’m thinking, “oh gawd! These people will think I’m a hideous troll now!” I’m not. I actually have nice eyes and gorgeous hair. LOL)

Welcome to our group, LLS! (The people outside my door were young adults. I teach elementary school.)

Again, thanks for being nice to me!

Christy

different in a way
 

Well...i'm not exactly sure where to start. My story is nothing like yours...i'm not sure why all of this started, or really how...all i know was that up until 3 days ago i was digging myself into a 6ft. hole...and was probably half was under. So with any hope i can climb back out...after all, 3ft still leaves 2 ft, 4 inches above ground!
I actually started coming to this site at 15 when i weighed 161 lbs. At 5'2-3" i was a bit on the heavy side compared to most 15 year olds, but not FAT by most opinions. Still...I am the brain of my family, oldest child, treasured by mommy and daddy (for the most part), a little on the bratty side, friendly, varsity athlete...and probably a little depressed. I am one of those people who really has no reason to dislike themself, but for some reason I have. My brother and sister are younger than i am...so at 13 and 10 there weren't always the nicest kids...and that was just when this started, but the tormenting had gone on for about 5 years previously. Dad is the type that thinks if you have a problem you should either fix it, or not complain. Well, i was about 35 lbs. overweight and when i would mention being overweight, instead of saying "no honey you're beautiful" it was more like "well do something about it"! I spent a lot of time blaming them for things, but really i am the one that did this to myself. Through it all have felt extremely guilty because most of the pain that i have always felt has been released on my mother, who has never deserved it, but as the one person who has always seemed to understand me, she has also been the one who has stood by me.
SO NOW TO THE POINT
At 15 I had finally gained control over my weight, and was down to 136...a loss of 25 lbs in about 7 months...very healthy weight loss brought on by ditching mindless snacking, cutting down on junk and exercising more often. I had come home from a swim meet and was lying in bed eating a piece of cake. Not a big deal, just a simple plain piece of yellow box cake. All of a sudden i feel a pulse in my esophagus, and up comes some of the cake...and it happened a few more times. I couldn't explain it! I told my mom about it, not sure what to do. We kind of wrote it off as exhaustion, but it continued to happen, on a small scale. Well....the weight began to come off after this. I could spend hours in front of the toilet spitting, and spitting, and spitting. It was torture, but i wasn't fat, and i wasn't having to work very hard! By my 16th birthday i was down to about 120-125...just a month later. My parents took me to specialists and they couldn't come up with anything...they called it bulimia and blamed it on me. Fast forward to my senior year....i managed to get my problem under control after a while, and was "spit Free" for months. Then one day it just came back...only this time i was doing it to myself. I had learned how to make my food come back. Still never forcing myself to vomit. I maintained a weight of about 125, but the stress of my senior year caused things to flair up again. I gained about 15 lbs back and was somewhere between 135-140 when i graduated. I was about to start college and was nervous...i thought i had an image to portray...so it began again. I got to about 130 when i left for school. Still thinking i looked horrible, and by this time i was completely out of control. My first semester was a disaster. I binged and purged all night. I was about 145 at mid-term, but by the end of semester had slipped down to about 120. My dorm new about me...they made an issue...i left without saying much, and didn't come back. After that i spent the next year and a half spiraling downward while trying desperately to get my self worth back up. I have a wonderful "clueless" boyfriend. I am terrified to tell him about all of this...but he is one of my main motivators for recovery. I currently weigh about 100-105 lbs...i finally realized that i look horrible. I am skinny!!! I went and tried on pants in a size 0, and literally have no behind to fill them out...now what do you do when you can't fit in a size 0?? So i have put myself on a somewhat strict diet "calorically". I can barely digest food, so i eat small portions of food, about every 3 hours 4-5 times a day. I am basically working on sticking to where i am for now, and will gradually work back up as my insides are able to catch back up. So on and off for nearly 5 years i have struggled, and i have finally decided for my boyfriend and our future together, for my mother, and for myself to get my life back on track. I will be taking 12 hours at my university this semester which is great. I have been at a local community college up until now. I have an apartment, am in a sorority, and feel incredible confident in myself.
Wish me luck and thanks for listening...i just wanted to get that out!

Kmarie
3days binge free, purge free!!! for the first time in almost 2 years!

(((((Kmarie)))))))))

Please find some help, don't blame yourself, and remember that you are beautiful, loved, and so not alone in this. All mthe things you said about bucking up and shutting up thats in my family too, it breeds black and white thinking, all or nothing, and that is prevalent in ED. Another big hug girl and come back, tell us how your doing, and feel free to join our weekly thread based on recovery.

More help may be found at www.somethingfishy.org or www.oa.org
Chris

Chris - "Buck up or shut up thinking"...what a perfect way to describe it! It was in my family growing up, too.

Welcome, Kmarie - it sounds like you are on the right track. :)

Originally posted by Suchaprettyface125:

:( I'm a binge eater, overeater, whatever. I'm a food addict. My parents - drug addict, alcoholic. Everyone in my family is addicted to either drugs or alcohol. I guess it does run in the family, or just having that experience leaves you so empty that the only way you can fill yourself up is through bingeing or having a life full of chaos results in chaotic eating, or maybe I just love food and can't get enough of it. Don't know, My mother wasn't there most of the time, my father wasn't there most of the time, mentally or physically, when he was he was very cruel to me. Food was always there, never cruel always fulfilling. All my friends used me and hurt me, all my boyfriends treated me like crap and abused me.

My life, either at home or school or work or where ever was full of chaos and pain. I even got fired for being overweight, not because it affected my performance at work cause I was there almost everyday and was one of the top sales reps, it was because the boss didn't want to see an ugly fat chic everyday. I found this out 3 months later when they wanted to hire me back. After that I stayed in the house for 2 years and gained 80 pounds. Bingeing every single day. Not just taking an extra helping cause that's far from being a compulsive eater. I would eat more than i could fit into my stomach, I was sick pretty much every day and swore i wouldn't do it ever again but as soon as the evening came I was bingeing again.

It wasn't until OA that i started feeling bad cause they said I had a problem, and I felt like I shouldn't be eating like that. Everyone in my life was out of control. I was never out of control, but my eating was. It's hard to notice or feel bad about when that's all you see or know. I think For awhile eating to me was to get back at everyone. Kind of a stupid way to get back at them but everyone, even my father put me down for being fat. No one accepted me, and I hate this, even with the few that were nice had a way of stabbing me in the heart. "You have such a pretty face, it's a shame you hide it behind all that weight." GOD i hate those people. It's like ok you see i am pretty, why can't you just say I'm pretty, why do you have to insult me? It's not like I have to tear away the layers of fat surrounding my face so they can see it. I've always wanted to say back to them "you have such a great body it's a shame you hide it behind that ugly *** face." Or "you're so beautiful it's a shame that you're such an a-hole." It's like "ok you don't accept me, I'm going to eat more and make it harder for you to look at me" I guess that's the only way I could get back at people cause i was too quiet to say anything, I never stood up for myself.

Anyway, I've been to eating disorder hospitals several times. I had bulimia but that costs too much. The more you throw up, the more you eat. Don't mean to make it sound like a joke but it's true. I didn't like getting rid of what I ate anyway, I liked being full.



So here I am 25, my life is pretty good. I have a wonderful boyfriend who loves me unconditionally and treats me good, My life is no longer chaotic, my family is doing well, I have a wonderful niece who I love more than life. I have acceptance and love, yet i still like to eat a lot. I have to say I'm much better now. I don't eat as much as I use to and I can go days without compulsively overeating. I'm trying to strive for progress not perfection. In my eyes a few days is progress cause I couldn't make it one hour before. I know I have a problem, I'm not trying to get back at anyone by overeating, but I still do it. I don't know if i could ever commit to not overeating ever again.

I have a lot of fears and worries that food takes away. When I'm eating I'm not thinking. I've been journaling more and that helps cause I don't worry as much. But I still like eating. I know a lot about OA, I was apart of it for 4 weeks, that's the longest I've ever gone in my whole life without overeating. I really want to have a life, I hate always wanting to eat. I don't know what to do.

Help!
 

my story
 

Hmm.... it is 5 am and I should really be asleep. But I am dreading tomorrow... Tomorrow is the funeral for my fiance's grandmother, for my daughter's great-grandma. I will be speaking. What else is there to say? Tomorrow is going to be ROUGH.

But... here I am, after having read through all your stories and I feel the need to share mine. There's something healing in sharing our stories with each other, in getting the past all written down on paper (or posted in a forum or what have you). I know I am once again at that point in my life that I am in crisis mode. I feel that maybe sharing my story will help me to take the next step that I need to, to get help.

I had a good life growing up. My parents separated when I was very young, but they still loved my brother and I very much. We travelled all the time, as my dad works for the airlines so flying was cheap for us. They gave us everything we needed and lots that we wanted. We lived in a beatiful small town, in a nice house on a quiet culdesac where we were close friends with all our neighbours. Our life, looking from the outside in, was idyllic.

I can remember, as a young child, my bed was right above a heat vent. Unbeknownst to my parents, I heard every argument, every word spoken, every crash of a door or cupboard being slammed, through the heat vent. I guess they never realized how well the sound travels through those vents. To this day... I am absolutely terrified of any kind of conflict. If someone is mad at me... I shut down, or I run away. It changed me in ways I never realized, up until these past few years. I don't remember them once fighting in front of us.

I wish I could remember what I was thinking as my babysitter raped me when I was maybe 5 years old. Of course then I didn't know what rape was... and he made it seem like a game, and we giggled afterwards like it was funny. All I knew about that stuff was that daddy said it was wrong to touch myself, and I wasn't allowed to watch 'adult shows'. I blocked the memory out of my mind for many years. I remembered when I was around ten years old, but dismissed it as strange dreams I was remembering. But every encounter with that guy afterwards was incredibly uncomfortable. I couldn't be alone in a room with him. I couldn't look him in the eye. And I didn't know why. Then the memories came back again when I was 17. I never told my family, or hardly anyone else. My mother's fiance is *his* father. I love Les like my own father. But I feel nothing for his son. I could never tell.... it would either rip the family apart further or I just plain wouldn't be believed.

I was a bubbly, energetic kid. At night, I would write in my journal that I wanted to die, but I didn't want to die fat. My father always made comments that I needed to watch my weight. Starting at nine years old, he began to buy me exercise videos, subscriptions to weight loss magazines, a gym pass.

The road to **** is paved with good intentions. And how.

See, my problem was never really that I was fat, or even overweight... I was always a little taller and a little heavier than all the other kids because I hit puberty a lot sooner. So on top of raging hormones and all that... I have to hear every day how I need to "watch what I eat" and etc ad nauseum.

We were vacationing in Hawaii one year, and I remember I was in the hotel room by myself, watching some stupid show... I don't know if some of you may remember a short lived "Models Inc.", it was called. Well... one of the models proceeded to purge after eating a meal with her agent or some other shmuck. And I thought...."hey, you know, dieting and eating right and exercising are not working for me, I could try that."

I was 11 years old at the time. I never forgot that show.

Fast forward a year or two... Puberty is really catching up to me. My weight was at its highest (whatever the **** that means.... I was still growing) and I was desperately depressed. I half heartedly began throwing up after meals. I remember the first time I purged. It took me so long... and it hurt so much. I think I was 12. I would give ALMOST anything to have that day back and do it differently. I lost part of my soul that day. Well... whatever was left of it from all the other hells I had endured.

Fast forward to junior high... moved from my small home town to the big city. Left my life behind and had to start over. I was incredibly depressed. I hardly slept... my nights were consumed with binging and purging, and constant thoughts of suicide. My weight remained fairly steady at 145. I was in grade 9. I thought I was a whale.

Eventually the bulimia started to interfere with my life to the point that it was obvious SOMETHING was wrong. In 11th grade, I started cutting class, I would cry at the drop of a hat, just generally doing irrational things. My dad confronted me one day about a call from the school saying I had missed a class. I broke down and told him I had an eating disorder, thinking all the while we would cry in each others arms, and he would tell me how much he loved me and he'd do anything to make it better. Instead, he just looked at me blankly and said... "Ok."

Then began the endless rounds of visits to the doctors, and therapists, and all the other specialists. This went on for 3 or 4 months. I became VERY good at lying. I told them all how much better I was feeling, I was so much happier, had stopped b/p, I didn't think I needed the meds anymore... blah, blah, blah. I guess they all bought it cause I stopped going to the doctor and therapist every week. I stopped taking the meds.

Uhoh, my baby's awake ;) ... I'll have to finish this later, after the funeral I suppose.

Take care for now,
Dietrie

:grouphug: Dietrie

How was the funeral? Losses can be so hard, my grandfather dieing just about killed me

"The road to **** is paved with good intentions. And how."

I can definitely see myself here, and unfortunate for me after reviewing the evidence I wasn't a fat child either I just believed I was and it became a self-fulling prophecy. Come back. Finish your story and join our daily thread we need you and you need us. :grouphug:

Chris

Thanks for your words Chris.

The funeral was beautiful and I did survive. The piece I read was lovely and I managed to make it to the very end before I started crying. I have been to quite a few funerals in my life and I have to say this one was the nicest I have been to. What an odd thing to say... Now back to my story.

Let's skip ahead to grade 12. On my 17th birthday, I smoked pot for the first time. Shortly after that, my friends and I started drinking pretty regularly. I had given up on trying to make my father happy. Good grades, a busy athletic life, piano, band, arts, choir, and being a live-in house maid for him just weren't enough, so I gave up giving a crap. I tried to kill myself twice by overdosing on pills. Fortunately I'm still here but my liver is a little worse for wear. I never was taken to the hospital though... both times I just suffered through the overdose for weeks after. I tell you that was entirely the worst thing I have ever felt in my life. The pain of childbirth does not compare, to me, probably because of the huge reward you get at the end. But I went partially blind... I went deaf as well. My head felt like it was made out of putty. My body didn't want to move or function properly. I had to endure that **** for over a week until all the drugs were out of my system.

The funny thing is... my body, after all the years of throwing up, after having swallowed so many pills, I could not keep them down. I threw up twice shortly after having took the pills. I know if I had been able to stop myself from throwing up, I would have lost consciousness. I know I would be dead. Weird the way these things work.

My grade 12 year was so messed up that I can't piece together all the events in a straight line. I ran away from home for 3 weeks. My beloved Grandma passed away shortly after I returned home. I began smoking pot and drinking like it was going out of style. I smoked pot over lunch and then would skip the rest of the day, sleeping off my high in the band room. I would wake up at 6am and decide it would be fun to go to school drunk that day. I would drink myself into a stupor and then wake up at 3pm to find I had missed yet another day of school. I was lucky to have a father that travelled often a left me home alone a lot. And all the while, I kept throwing up and my weight kept dropping.

In the midst of all this chaos, as my weight was at its lowest, I began restricting food as well. The only meal I would eat in front of others was dinner at home, which I would purge until I was bringing up nothing but stomach acid (keeping up appearances, don't ya know). I hardly slept because the grawing hunger would keep me awake. Each night, around the time I should have been sleeping, I would allow myself one cracker and one jellybean. It would take me two hours to eat both of those. I fainted often after coming out of the shower. My doctor eventually perscribed me sleeping pills. I was drinking more than ever. I had become an alcoholic.

During my last year of high school, I had my first two boyfriends. The first time I fooled around with my first ex, my fragmented memories of childhood abuse came crashing back. I lost my 'virginity' (are you still considered a virgin after being raped??) to my second ex. We were both very, very drunk. The two of us were together for the last couple months of high school. Eventually we broke up, because well, he was an ***. ;)

Eventually grad came and went, and shortly thereafter I moved out of my dad's house and didn't speak to him for some time. I moved in with my ex and his parents, as we were on 'friendly' terms (ok, we were f*ck buddies) and his parents loved me. I got a job with some marketing company, which was of course very short lived. About a month after graduation, a friend and I got our very own first place. My eating disorder subsided for a little while. I was happy; away from my father, out of school, working, enjoying my new-found freedom. I started eating again. My clothes started to fit a little better, if not a little snugger. I was definitely happy. I was drinking and partying a ton still.... but definitely enjoying myself more. Three days after I moved into that place with Sara, I met Tim.

We met at a party. His little sister came up to me and asked me what I thought of her brother, then proceeded to tell me he thought I was cute. Long story short, I asked him home with me that night. A one night stand has turned into 3 years. I just couldn't get rid of the guy ;). But he has stuck with me through a lot of ****.

Three days after we had met, and had spent day and night and every other waking moment together, he asked me a very strange question. He asked me when I had last gotten my period. Curious to know why he wanted to know, he pointed out to me that I was peeing an awful lot. We checked out some stuff on the internet then we went to the drug store to get a test.

I can't really remember all that happened that day or the following weeks either, nor do I really care to recount the memories I do have. I know I made the right decision at the time, for ME. I had an abortion. I was 17 at the time. There is a lot of guilt and shame that goes along with this admission. At the time I met Tim I was 2 months pregnant and did not even realize it. Because of the ED my periods were irregular at best so I thought nothing of it. Maybe another day I could revisit this time in my life but for tonight it's too painful.

But just to show you the kind of person Tim is... having just met me, and finding this all out.... he stuck by me. We are engaged to be married, next July. We have a beautiful 4 month old baby daughter. I count my blessings every day that she is so very healthy. I often cry and hug her and pray to God that I can show her the love I never felt, and show her to love herself the way I could never love myself. I hope and pray she will not be robbed of her innocence the way I was. You guys... in the very fiber of my being I know I would lose my mind and kill whoever dared lay a finger on her.
Tim gave me a reason not to die. Now, he has given me a reason to live... our daughter.

Sigh... there's so much more to tell. I'll just tell you one more little bit.
My mother passed away when I was about a year old. She suffered from post partum depression (as do I). They called it an accidental overdose on her anti-depressants. I also suspect she suffered from an eating disorder, as the photo album that I have, the progression of weight loss in the pictures before her death are alarming. She was very slender even just after I was born. Before she passed away, she was too thin. So I am left wondering. ... and worrying, for myself. I don't want this to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. My mother died when she was 21.
I am 21.
I am the spitting image of my mother in every way. I know she lives on in me. But I know I am killing myself as well. I gained 50 lbs in my pregnancy and in four months since Chloe was born, I have lost 65lbs. I know I need help, but I keep telling myself, X more pounds and THEN you get help... ridiculous, I know but I'm sure you all totally understand that mentality.
I want to be better but I have been living with this monster for over 8 years. I know it is much bigger than me now. But more than anything.... I WANT TO BE HERE FOR MY DAUGHTER.

Well after all this soul spilling, I am not too sure how to end this post other than to say... I know my story like all of your stories doesn't really have an ending yet. One day, I hope to be able to put into writing that I am on the road to recovery, and I hope and dream for the day when I can put it into stone that I am recoverED. I have learned lately... it's important to have few regrets in life. So I've learned to let some of the past go, so that I can concentrate on loving and living my best today.

Well I'm sure you have all figured out by now that I have more to say than I have time to type. I'm sure you'll be hearing much much more from me. I'm glad I found this place, and you guys. But its late again... sigh. So much to do.

Enough about me.... How are you all?!?!? :lol:
take good care everybody. And go hug your loved ones.

cheers,
Dietrie