I apologize in advance if it's someone from my family, my friends or anyone else who gets ashamed by me now, or feel like it is unnecessary to publisht this on the internet, but to them, I just want to say; to bad for you, because I am doing this for me.
If someone close to me gets angry or sad that I did not tell them in person, I am sorry, but I have not had the courage to do so. I do not know when, and in wich point to bring it up. And this is nothing I have been proud of in any way. Ofcourse not! But here it goes:
This is the hardest blog post I have ever written, but I feel that I really want to write it! I'm tired of being ashamed of anything that happened to me several years ago.I'm tired of living with that part of my life as a secret. It is like knowing that I was living a double life and keeping it a secret from everyone.
It tears me apart to pretend that She, that Petra, wasn't there. Because, for me, she was the real Petra. The one who was hiding from everyone with a glued on smile on her face. Above all, I think I owe the young Petra who was so embarrassed, and every day was crying blood over who she was and how she felt. And I owe it to everyone young and old who are living with the same problems I had, who also feel ashamed, to show that there are more people like them. There are those who have gone through the same thing, but have gotten out of it. I'm not gonna be ashamed anymore!
Over about three years, high school, and then some, I suffered from eating disorders. I can not say exactly what eating disorder it was, it was a mixed bag. Anorexia, bullimia ... Some periods I starved myself, I threw up some, and some I ate almost nothing and was working out like crazy. When I think back on how far and how long time I could run without food in my stomach, I can in the current situation not understand anything! At that time, I wasn't in the best shape either. but there were "demons" (as many call them, but I have not given them any names) who made sure I did it anyway.
My legs ran by themselves, inside my head spun only evil thoughts, they acted as an engine and made sure I did not stop. Many times I ran so much that I vomited.
I don't think I have to say how much anxiety that characterized my life. I had anxiety because I thought about food, it was the only thing I could think about. I got anxiety if I ate something, and the thought that I must get rid of it somehow gave me anxiety. If I threw up, I had an unbelievable anxiety and cried an awful lot when I vomited, after I cried and had anxiety. Because I allowed myself to eat, and for the fact that I felt rotten. At night, I got anxiety because I could not sleep. Probably because I had not eaten anything and the body was stressed. I was planning how I would do the next day in order to escape the food. I used to get up before six o'clock on the weekends to set up food on the table so that it would look as though I had eaten breakfast, then I went for a long walk to get home to bed again.
While all this was happening, I had school to attend to. I had friends being nice to. Parties who all went to. My "image" as the crazy, funny one who did wacky things. It was nice to be able to hide behind this mask I had. But it was also a hassle. It had become a shield that no one could get past, not even me. When I figured out that I was not really healthy and really wanted help I couldn't ask for it I didn't manage. I just didn't.. I was stuck!
I never used the word "eating disorder." I knew I was not healthy, but called it to myself that I had "food issues." The hardest periods were those when I really wanted help. I wanted to say something, or that someone would see that I was struggling. I got my chances sometimes, among other things, when a friend asked if I really ate as I should, and I joked it off.
And When I went to the schools nurse for my sleeping problems (she never weighed me ever), but she asked if I ate properly. Of course I answered YES, even if it was not so. Once during gymclass I became so dizzy that I could not stand on my feet and my teacher asked me if I ate and drank well - All my inner screamed HELP ME, PLEASE! But the demon's voice answered, YES, I DO!
It led me to feeling even worse. I cried and screamed, but of course it did not appear that way. I managed not even for my life to ask for help, how hard I even tried. I was never hospitalized and probably wouldn't have been either, even if I would have asked for help., , I wasn't small enough. , I was not. I'm not very big now, but if you pull away about ten kg from me now you will see the Petra I was.
Well, this post is long, I know, so I'll try to finish!
I know once when it turned out so clearly, for myself, that I did not feel well. It was dumplings at school-lunch, my favorite dish. It was pretty small dumplings there, so I used to eat three or four, but I couldn't not even finnish half of one. THEN I got scared. Because even if I wanted, and even though I tried, I just couldn't eat anymore. And the little I had inside me felt like a lump that just gotta get out!
A while after that, after lunch, I sat on the school toilet and cried. I hated my life! I hated ! I hated that I could not eat, and I hated the anxiety! I wanted to die. This was surely no life? If I continued on the path I was in, I would probably die. Either because I would not last the war anymore and give up my life, or that I would eventually get so sick that I would die of malnutrition. I began to think so brain creaked. I had a world war with myself inside the bathroom. I told myself that I had to do something. It did not work anymore! I actually used to love food, candy, crisps ... well EVERYTHING! And is it not the case that a person must eat to survive? Well, a person have to eat!! If I'm supposed to be fat because I eat, then I guess I'll be fat then! It's really not the end of the world!
If someone close to me gets angry or sad that I did not tell them in person, I am sorry, but I have not had the courage to do so. I do not know when, and in wich point to bring it up. And this is nothing I have been proud of in any way. Ofcourse not! But here it goes:
This is the hardest blog post I have ever written, but I feel that I really want to write it! I'm tired of being ashamed of anything that happened to me several years ago.I'm tired of living with that part of my life as a secret. It is like knowing that I was living a double life and keeping it a secret from everyone.
It tears me apart to pretend that She, that Petra, wasn't there. Because, for me, she was the real Petra. The one who was hiding from everyone with a glued on smile on her face. Above all, I think I owe the young Petra who was so embarrassed, and every day was crying blood over who she was and how she felt. And I owe it to everyone young and old who are living with the same problems I had, who also feel ashamed, to show that there are more people like them. There are those who have gone through the same thing, but have gotten out of it. I'm not gonna be ashamed anymore!
Over about three years, high school, and then some, I suffered from eating disorders. I can not say exactly what eating disorder it was, it was a mixed bag. Anorexia, bullimia ... Some periods I starved myself, I threw up some, and some I ate almost nothing and was working out like crazy. When I think back on how far and how long time I could run without food in my stomach, I can in the current situation not understand anything! At that time, I wasn't in the best shape either. but there were "demons" (as many call them, but I have not given them any names) who made sure I did it anyway.
My legs ran by themselves, inside my head spun only evil thoughts, they acted as an engine and made sure I did not stop. Many times I ran so much that I vomited.
I don't think I have to say how much anxiety that characterized my life. I had anxiety because I thought about food, it was the only thing I could think about. I got anxiety if I ate something, and the thought that I must get rid of it somehow gave me anxiety. If I threw up, I had an unbelievable anxiety and cried an awful lot when I vomited, after I cried and had anxiety. Because I allowed myself to eat, and for the fact that I felt rotten. At night, I got anxiety because I could not sleep. Probably because I had not eaten anything and the body was stressed. I was planning how I would do the next day in order to escape the food. I used to get up before six o'clock on the weekends to set up food on the table so that it would look as though I had eaten breakfast, then I went for a long walk to get home to bed again.
While all this was happening, I had school to attend to. I had friends being nice to. Parties who all went to. My "image" as the crazy, funny one who did wacky things. It was nice to be able to hide behind this mask I had. But it was also a hassle. It had become a shield that no one could get past, not even me. When I figured out that I was not really healthy and really wanted help I couldn't ask for it I didn't manage. I just didn't.. I was stuck!
I never used the word "eating disorder." I knew I was not healthy, but called it to myself that I had "food issues." The hardest periods were those when I really wanted help. I wanted to say something, or that someone would see that I was struggling. I got my chances sometimes, among other things, when a friend asked if I really ate as I should, and I joked it off.
And When I went to the schools nurse for my sleeping problems (she never weighed me ever), but she asked if I ate properly. Of course I answered YES, even if it was not so. Once during gymclass I became so dizzy that I could not stand on my feet and my teacher asked me if I ate and drank well - All my inner screamed HELP ME, PLEASE! But the demon's voice answered, YES, I DO!
It led me to feeling even worse. I cried and screamed, but of course it did not appear that way. I managed not even for my life to ask for help, how hard I even tried. I was never hospitalized and probably wouldn't have been either, even if I would have asked for help., , I wasn't small enough. , I was not. I'm not very big now, but if you pull away about ten kg from me now you will see the Petra I was.
Well, this post is long, I know, so I'll try to finish!
I know once when it turned out so clearly, for myself, that I did not feel well. It was dumplings at school-lunch, my favorite dish. It was pretty small dumplings there, so I used to eat three or four, but I couldn't not even finnish half of one. THEN I got scared. Because even if I wanted, and even though I tried, I just couldn't eat anymore. And the little I had inside me felt like a lump that just gotta get out!
A while after that, after lunch, I sat on the school toilet and cried. I hated my life! I hated ! I hated that I could not eat, and I hated the anxiety! I wanted to die. This was surely no life? If I continued on the path I was in, I would probably die. Either because I would not last the war anymore and give up my life, or that I would eventually get so sick that I would die of malnutrition. I began to think so brain creaked. I had a world war with myself inside the bathroom. I told myself that I had to do something. It did not work anymore! I actually used to love food, candy, crisps ... well EVERYTHING! And is it not the case that a person must eat to survive? Well, a person have to eat!! If I'm supposed to be fat because I eat, then I guess I'll be fat then! It's really not the end of the world!
Right there, I decided to make a change! It would be war, and I would win. I was too afraid to search for help, so I simply had to deal with it myself! But I can tell you that it was not easy! I decided that I could not weigh myself more (I used to weigh myself more than four times per day), I was not allowed to vomit, and I would eat at least one meal every day to begin with. It was not easy, and I had anxiety all the time, just like when I didn't eat, but I had decided to begin my journey to some day feel good. I had a goal! Obviously it hit rear sometimes and I fell back, but I had a visual goal, and one day I would get there. It was hard to fight so hard when no one knew about it. It was hard to sit there at kitchen table and eat and pretend that everything was OK when it ,at the same time, took place in a war in my head. A war between me and the "demons". But I had decided to be strong. I decided to change my control need not to eat, to control that I did eat!
To make a long story short, I gradually began to feel better. I started thinking of myself as healthy (although, when I think back to that time, I was not quite there yet), and I struggled on. When I had become strong and ate every meal and really felt on the track one day I took a walk in the woods with my mother. In that round, she told me that she found one of my poems and had read it. I became very angry of course. I did not want anyone to see them. She told me that she understood by the poem that I suffered from eating disorders. Eating disorders. It was the first time someone used those words about me. The first time I heard them loud. And the first time I realized that was what I actually had.
It was also the first time anyone knew what I went through. Someone I could talk to. As much as I cried out of shame and fear that she now knew, I cried with relief. My mom told my siblings, and I decided right then and there that I never, never again would end up there again. I had people around me who I could ask for help if it would happen again. Who would support me and not judge me. That was what was most shocking, they did not judge me! They did not say I was a disgrace. And I felt that I had more than myself to fight for. I would never fall back, because I did not want to give my family the pain.
I have often wondered why I ended up in the swamp of eating disorders . There is no answer to that, but I know it, how sick it may sound, made me feel good at something. I was not a beautiful, handsome or pretty girl. I tried to get good grades , but did not succeed. I had no talent, and I was not good at anything. When I got to high school and all of my problems started, I felt that I managed to do something. I succeeded on the scale, I managed to fool those around me, nobody saw what I did. But I fooled even myself without knowing it. While I managed to do all the troublesome experiences I succeeded with school too. I studied hard and sometimes stayed at school and took a later bus home, to be able to say that I already eaten when I got home and so on. In contrast, everything led to that I basically hit the wall. At the end of high school, I was fighting to try and get well. So when the time came try to and get a driving license, while I was studying hard, had national examinations, plan for graduation, get good final grades, etc.. was horribly turbulent. when I had such a war in my body. well I'll be damned, but I actually made it!
Now I am 27 years old and loves to work out. I love to work out and see how my body is getting stronger and develop. I love to eat! I have found a lifestyle that works for me. I've left the eating disorder, and I hope that everyone around me understands that now. I do not train because I want to lose weight and become thin as a stick. I train because I want to build my body up, and exercise is one of my major interests. Today, I would never be able to run for miles without food in my stomach, because I do not have that engine in my head, forcing me forward. I can run as far as my body have the energy for that day, then I don't push it anymore. I am proud of myself that I succeeded do all this on my own.
Today I am healthy, and I know that you who are reading this, and are where I once was, also has the ability to become well! But you have to fightFight the urges to purge and starve.. It's hard work! But life as you now live is also har work and pain, and there you really need to struggle. I wish there are people who read this and understand that it is never too late. And you are not alone! You just have to find the power, or someone you can talk to who can support. Otherwise, I'm here and can support you as best I can!
Never give up! You are worth it! <3<3
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