#and I’ve been struggling to not give in to my anorexia on and off since

[witch-without-gender]

Ok uhhh idk what they’re called but the blogs that encourage dieting, eating disorders, and unhealthy weight loss DNI please. I sometimes look at blogs that follow me and like, that shit makes it really difficult to deal with my anorexia and my current self image 😬

[softxsuki]

Hey han, i have an urgent request if you don’t mind. May I request mikey, Shinichiro, and Mitsuya with a ballerina girlfriend who is struggling with anorexia? As a dancer myself not only am I constantly comparing myself to the other girls in my class but I’ve been told by my dance teacher on a couple of occasions that I needed to lose weight, despite already being underweight. I’ve been in ballet since I was very little, but my ED only started when I hit my early teens and had just kept with me :( and sometimes it gets hard to keep dancing because I feel so dizzy and exhausted, but I still love dancing and refuse to quit

Mikey, Shinichiro, and Mitsuya (Separate) with Anorexic Ballerina Girlfriend

PLEASE DON'T READ IF MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS WILL DO YOU MORE HARM THAN GOOD. PLEASE

Pairings: Manjiro x Fem!Reader, Shinichiro x Fem!Reader, Mitsuya x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anorexia, starving yourself, being thin, food, people saying you need to be thinner, poor health

Genre: Comfort

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: In which they find out about your eating disorder and comfort you about it

[A/N: Hello <3 I never mind an urgent request. But can I just say, I really admire your resilience to want to continue dancing despite what you're going through. That's amazing. Hopefully these headcanons are comforting for you and perhaps give you some options to use moving forward! ily, you're beautiful <3]

Mikey:

Just wanna start off by saying this man is obsessed with you; k thanks for coming for my ted talk–i needed to get that off my chest

He’s always noticed you’ve been pretty thin, but he’d brush it off as you just having a faster metabolism or just naturally being a little thin–after all it doesn’t matter to him whether you were thin or chubby, he’d love you regardless

However, little sirens do go off in his head as you continue to get thinner and thinner over time

What alarms him even more are the bruises that appear on your skin

He’s on full fight mode, thinking someone is hurting you behind his back and he’s ready to use full violence on someone

But eventually he notices how you avoid food whenever you’re with him and he offers you something, you try to naturally shrug it off, claiming you’re not hungry…but what were the chances you were never hungry when you were with him?

He just very blatantly asks you about it; Mikey has no filter, as soon as something comes to his head, he’s going to verbally express it

As a commander of Toman, he’s very good at picking up on lies as well, so please be honest, it’s not like he’d judge you for it anyway

Mikey is so supportive of you being a ballerina, he’d never be caught watching ballet recitals before meeting you, but now he’d never miss one of your shows, showing up front and center to support you (perhaps a little too loudly)

Anyway, when he finds out that you’ve been starving yourself because of comments from your dance instructor that you need to lose weight, along with knowing you’ve been comparing yourself to your fellow dance mates, he’s fuming

Dark impulses who? They’re definitely popping out here

Mikey’s hands are rated E for everyone, and that includes your dance instructor, so hold him back because he’d really be in that class making an example of her o,o

One you manage to calm him down enough, he’d bring you into his arms

“I don’t see why you’d compare yourself to those other dancers. Whenever I watch your recitals, my eyes are always glued to you and only you. You’re captivating on the stage, Y/N. Those other girls can’t even begin to compare to you, because they’re not you. And as for that instructor of yours, I don’t get this obsession they have with being thin. You’re already thin enough, and she dares to say you need to get even thinner? Is she trying to kill you? Ignore her and keep doing what you’re doing. There is no weight limit to being a ballerina. They come in all shapes and sizes and they’re all just as talented. Expect for you, you’re my favorite ballerina”

Just Mikey going on and on about how perfect you are

Knowing that you were struggling and putting your life and health at risk just to dance felt outrageous to him

He knows how much you love to dance, but if you continue to get thinner, he feels he’d have no choice but to pull you away from it until you have a healthy relationship with food again and can mentally feel confident in yourself to the point where other’s words won’t allow you to harm yourself again

He’s just worried and wants the best for you

Losing you and seeing you struggling like this destroys him, and he wants to see to the people who made you like this, suffer

Shinichiro:

You opened up to this cutie towards the beginning of your relationship about your eating disorder, so he already knew about it and was already doing his best to help you through it

Being a ballerina, Shin was your biggest fan

He’d bring the whole gang over to see your recital and the other people in the crowd are just frighteningly glancing in their direction lol, but shin made sure to tell everyone to behave as to not put you in a bad situation, potentially getting you kicked out

Though one day he came to see you practice in class and he overheard your instructor telling you, you needed to lose more weight to look the part of a ballerina, and he steps in immediately

“Exactly who needs to lose weight here? Y/N is a phenomenal ballerina just the way she is. She looks graceful and elegant on stage. Outshining any other ballerina in this room” he fumes, not meaning to throw the other girls down, they were all great as well, but his main focus was on building you up now since he knows how detrimental her words could be for you and your eating disorder

“I’d suggest you watch your words carefully. I won’t warn you again”

Let’s just say your instructor never mentioned your weight again

Of course he wouldn’t actually do anything to harm your teacher, but words were pretty powerful as well and he was glad they proved effective

“Now, I don’t want to see you looking down on yourself. I know you have a bad relationship with food. I don’t expect your habits to change overnight, but I’m not letting you leave for practice until you’ve at least had some fruit and toast or something. You won’t be able to practice properly, or go without fainting without nutrient in your body”

He doesn’t care if he sounds like a mother nagging at her daughter, he wants the best for you and he knows you won’t give up dancing, he’d never ask that of you anyway, so he’d do his best to make sure you were at least well enough to make it through practice

He brings you a light soup or salad for lunch, anything that would get any kind of food in your system

Step by step he’d help you through it, ready to defend you again if anyone has any unnecessary comments to make

Spends all his time throwing compliments at you, you’re his one and only pretty girl after all

Mitsuya:

Mitsuya was always your safe place, so you never held back when it came to opening up to him about your deepest secrets and darkest thoughts

You had just been speaking about your class, and you found yourself comparing yourself to the other girls in your class, being more negative towards yourself, while praising your fellow ballerina’s and Mitsuya has no choice but to stop you in your tracks

“Woah woah woah, darling. The other girls in your ballet class are all talented, like you say, but so are you. Why does it sound like you’re disregarding your own beautiful qualities?” He’s sad to hear you talk badly about yourself. How could you not see how wonderful you were in his eyes?

“I can see how much you love ballet by the way you perform. You put your everything into it and it shows. You’re beautiful, always the most beautiful woman in the room. I wouldn't be shocked if everyone in the room couldn’t take their eyes off of you, so why can’t you see that as well?”

He was right. Of course he was right. You were used to feeling bad about yourself, mostly from the comments others made about your body. On the scale you were already underweight, yet it still wasn’t enough for your instructor

So much pressure was always placed on you to be the perfect ballerina, even if it meant starving yourself

Mitsuya also knew about your eating disorder, it was one of the few things you never told him, but it was obvious enough for him to find out on his own eventually

He never told you he knew though, he wanted you to tell you himself, he didn't want to scare you off or make you feel like he was trying to take control of your life for you

So he’s shocked when you finally mention it to him, feeling exhausted of hearing the same words from your teacher and guilty from keeping it from him, you tell him everything

Mitsuya is adamant that you find a new ballet class; surely not all dance instructors were obsessed with the weight of their students to the point that they can’t see what a disservice they’re doing to their health

How can a woman make it through a physically draining dance practice with zero nutrients in her body to keep her energized?

That’s his solution–find a new class

Scared to start new somewhere else? You’ll always make new friends, but wouldn’t it be better to do it in a safe, comforting environment with a teacher who actually cares for the healthy and well being of her students?

He’ll even help you research other ballet classes if you decide to take his advice

As for your anorexia, he’d also help you with that

Whether you’d like to seek professional help, so you can talk it out with a counselor as well or not, is up to you

He’s not here to force you to do anything, but he does gently encourage you to eat little portions of something light everyday

Little by little until you can recover your relationship with food again without feeling like you’ll blow up

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 08/28/2023

[queervegancryptid]

tl;dr – spoopy-valkyrie >>>>> queervegancryptid

update: 23 July 2024

Hi all. I’m Nik, and I’ve been on tumblr for a long time, mostly as spoopy-valkyrie. This blog is a new project, or a backup of sorts. I’m not sure yet.

A little about me: trans guy, age 35. vegan since age 16. disabled. PTSD, anxiety, anorexia, bulimia, ADHD, and like, 80 more things. I love learning new things, and I’m a super curious person and enjoy gabbing about a variety of different topics, and I will if given the opportunity. But I also love when other people do that, even if I don’t share the interest in particular, because it’s awesome to see people get so enthusiastic. That’s the goal of this whole tumblr thing for me, in general.

This blog is not designated “explicit,” but anything NSFW will be tagged as such. I have done and continue to engage in sex work, and I don’t apologize for it. This blog won’t be focused on that primarily, but it may be discussed, so minors please DNI. Otherwise, all are welcome. But if you’re going to harass me or if you’re in the habit of spreading bigotry, kindly fuck off. If you can’t be nice, I will block you.

I’ll edit/add to this pinned post as needed. If you use tag filtering and would like something tagged that isn’t, just send an ask/msg, and I’ll do my best to accommodate it.

ETA: I'm struggling with anorexia really bad lately, and I'm doing what I can on my own, but I'm trying to raise funds for dietitian visits so I can get some proper help in terms of meal planning. I've applied for funding with Project HEAL and have been searching for weeks, but my insurance is Medicare and Florida Medicaid, managed in one plan by UHC... I have told this story so many times, and to no effect, for the most part. It's a very bizarre experience.

I'm putting this here because I'm hoping people might see it, and maybe those folks will know something that can help my situation. Probably not, but I'm not ready to give up, so I have to try.

Anyway, nobody has to donate, but I'm thinking about a GoFundMe or something. In the meantime, if anybody feels like helping, my links are below.

PayPal: @niksnotdead

Venmo: @Nik-Hartsfield

Cash app: $niksnotdead

[ghoulgums]

I'm really sorry to hear about May. Please talk to someone though don't bottle up these feelings again. And life definitely isn't wasted on you you bring so much happiness and love into the world it would be so much worse without your light in it

I haven’t spoken to anyone online in days, I feel so empty, I have almost nothing to say to anyone, funnily enough though this is the first time I haven’t felt lonely, it’s kinda odd?

social media is triggering me hard at the moment, I’m getting tired of reading posts and statuses of people expressing a desire for an eating disorder so that they can lose weight, I had acute anorexia from my early teens and received a formal diagnosis of anorexia nervosa a couple of years ago, every day I am battling my head/body and there are people actively WISHING that they had the illness, it’s knocking me sick.

everyone seems to be depressed and suicidal at the moment, and I’ve since realised that I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to take on anyone else’s problems when I’m trying SO HARD not to end my life on the daily.

these next coming weeks I’m going to be a full time carer for my partner as a result of a surgical procedure he’s having done, and I’m looking forward to feeling ‘needed’ as that’s a driving factor for my survival, if I’m not needed then I don’t see the point of being.

my independence is so limited due to my financial and mental health struggles, and also the fact I feel extreme guilt at doing nice things for myself so I won’t do a lot of things without ‘permission’.

I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel despite the medication, therapy sessions, and support I receive. I believe I’m always going to be tormented by my traumas even though I’ve been trying to manage them on and off for 17 years.

the hard work I’ve put in to reach recovery has proved ineffective, and the thought of having to live with these conditions for the rest of my life is exhausting and terrifying.

I feel like all I’m doing is making the people around me miserable because the joy has been sucked out of me, and I don’t want to be that guy in any way, shape or form.

I feel like I’ve let everyone down, people have these expectations of me that I can’t always meet and as a result I get grief, I’m sorry but I can’t live my life catering to people who don’t even know what’s going on in my life.

I’ve had an absolutely garbage year and it’s felt like I’ve been dragging boulders, the heaviness is so physical that it hurts.

not to state the obvious, but I am alive, I’m existing just about.

I don’t feel like I bring much light, and it devastates me because all I ever wanted was to be happy and spread love and acceptance, but I’m not happy and it just doesn’t look like it’s in the cards for me. yes, there are things that make me feel happy, but overall I’m not happy in the slightest regardless of my efforts to change it.

I just feel like I’m surrounded by constant reminders of the fact that my life has been different to the people around me, and I get envious and bitter as a result.

I’m holding on, but something has got to give at some point, it just has to.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi are emergency requests open? So I’ve been struggling with Anorexia for years now, ever since I was a kid and recently I’ve been stuck in a binge/restrict cycle, may I request Oikawa or Kita helping his s/o in a situation like mine?

CONTENT WARNING: Anorexia mention, food mention, ED behavior.

Emergency requests are always open thank you so much for reaching out to me!

I actually deal with the exact same thing and I know how difficult it is.

You’re not alone, Nonnie. I love you so much!!! My dms are ALWAYS open if you want to connect or share stories, or just need a place to vent.

Tooru Oikawa

Tooru is a man of many passions and dedications, so he’s always distracted. There’s no doubt about it.

But the second he noticed your exhausted look in class, he knew something was off.

He pondered whether or not to say anything, ultimately deciding to give you the time you needed to adjust and relax.

However, his plans fell short during practice.

You always come to visit Oikawa during practice, you both agree that he performs better when you do so, so you always come to every single event for him that you can.

When things were getting intense, you were going to help the manager hand out towels and water.

However when you stood up, you became very dizzy and weak, having to brace yourself on Iwaizumi.

“Woah, (Y/N). You want to go to the nurse?”

Before you can even protest, Oikawa is at your side, pulling you into his lap on the bench.

“Guys, take a ten minute break.”

He cups your face with one hand while the other is securely on your waist.

“(Y/N) my love, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

As you tell him how you’ve been feeling, what you’ve been doing and how long it’s been happening, his whole world shatters.

He wraps you securely in his arms and presses your head gently into his chest.

“Thank you for telling me.” He whispers before kissing the crown of your head.

If you cry, he’s going to whisper to you how much he loves you and how proud he is you came to him.

After the ten minute break, Iwa comes as a messenger for the team. Oikawa promptly sends them home, not letting you go.

“You ready to go home, lovebug?”

He’ll take you back to his house and sits down with you on the couch.

“So. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

He grabs both of your hands and wears a patient smile.

“I’m going to make us dinner tonight, but don’t panic yet. I’ll make us something that isn’t heavy or full of calories. How does fish sound?”

Even if you disagree, he’s still going to do his damndest to make you the best meal he can.

I hc Oikawa as a brilliant cook, so the meal he prepares is going to taste amazing.

He breaks his own house rule for you: no food anywhere but the kitchen or dining room. He sets up two TV dinner trays in the living room and puts on your favorite animated film.

“You just take your time. If it gets cold, let me know and I’ll heat it back up for you. You’re under no pressure to eat, my love.”

He turns his attention to the tv, so you don’t feel pressured by his gaze.

The second you take a bite of his cooking, he can’t help but smile.

And if you ask him for more, his heart will absolutely leap for joy.

To help with your binging issue, Oikawa vows to keep junk food out of the house.

Anything that you request though, he buys it immediately.

One thing he does do, however, is take black electrical tape and cover up all of the nutrition information on the boxes and packages.

“You eat what you want, babydoll. If you’re worried, we can go to the pool, on a run, or just mess around with a volleyball.”

He says this while he rocks you in his arms, with you seated in between his legs.

Oikawa is going to do his damndest to make sure you know that You’re not alone.

It may be a long journey, but he pledged to ensure that you’re here as long as the gods allow, because he 100% wants to marry you in the future and he needs you alive to do so.

Shinsuke Kita

Now Kita is a little bit different from Oikawa.

He immediately knows what’s going on, but not to what extent.

The day he sees you come to the lunchroom without anything to eat, for the fourth day in a row, completely solidifies his suspicions.

You were starving yourself. But he didn’t know why.

As the bell rang for the next class, he gave your tee shirt a little tug and asked you to come with him.

“Hey dewdrop, how you feeling today?”

As you lie and tell him you’re great, your knees give out and you stumble as you walk.

Kita frowns as he catches you in his arms.

“(Y/N) please don’t lie to me, my love.”

Kita felt his heart shatter as you burst into tears and told him what had been going on.

“Oh my darling. I love you so much. You’re going to be alright.”

He pulls you into a tight hug and kisses the crown of your head.

He then proceeds to rest his chin on the top of your head as he tells you that he’s going to help you to the best of his ability.

“Why don’t we try something fun tonight, beautiful?”

“Something fun” is sitting with him on the couch as he screen mirrors his phone to the tv in the living room. He scrolls through endless pages of recipes in the Buzzfeed Tasty app.

When you begrudgingly decide on a recipe, he drags you into the kitchen and you both begin to cook.

He turns on the playlist he made for you: it’s all music that he knows calms you or makes you want to smile.

He spins you around as you both dance around the kitchen, swiping through the step by step to prepare for dinner.

After making a gargantuan mess, dinner was complete!

“Alright sweetheart, we’re going to sit and have dinner now okay? You take your time, we have all the time in the world.”

Just like Oikawa, he turns on your favorite movie and you both sit in the living room to enjoy your meal.

Regardless of the time it takes for you to take a bite, he doesn’t stare you down in anticipation.

He patiently watches the movie, with a smile on his face, as he every now and then sneaks a glance out of his peripheral.

If you even eat one bite of the food, he’s going to tackle you to the couch with kisses and squeeze you tightly.

Regarding the binging, he takes care of most of the cooking for you two, so you never have to worry.

If you eat a little more than you intended to, he’ll take you to do your favorite exercise.

Whether it be swimming, running, or playing volleyball with him, he’ll be there until you feel you’ve burnt off enough.

He’ll never let you over work yourself to a bad point though.

Kita is not ready to lose you, so he’s going to be ready for all of the ups and downs. He’s found the one he wants to be with for life, so he’s ensuring that your life is long.

——————✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞——————

[dilfbane]

It Gets Better(A Silky Pearl)

Summary: It’s been a long time since things have gotten this bad. Loki, returned from his latest mission, lets you know that, with help and support, you can overcome the worst of things, and makes sure you know that he’ll be there with you to get you through it, each and every day. 

Pairing: Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: Reader in this fic struggles with eating disorders. Thoughts and feelings related to these(specifically to anorexia and bulimia), are made throughout the fic, especially those that, in my personal experience, people with these disorders experience. I cannot stress enough that this will be discussed/referenced/talked about, sometimes explicitly(Though not graphically) and sometimes implicitly, so please be aware of that and know that it’s OK to take care of yourself and skip this one if that would be triggering to you! 

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I want to preface this by saying that there are a LOT of people, both here and on AO3, who have made some amazing Loki/reader oneshots where the reader is struggling with mental health and/or physical health issues, that really provide a sense of warmth and fluff and support to people who may be going through those things themselves, and I’ve taken a lot of comfort in those fics over the course of the pandemic(I’ll be shouting out a couple of them in the tags!). I want to acknowledge that these exist, and that they’re awesome and have partly inspired my own writing, before talking about this little project I’m embarking on. 

Because, while I have gotten a lot of comfort out of many of those pieces of writing, there are definitely some things which I feel like aren’t talked about as much in pieces like these which I have gone through, and which a lot of other people have gone/are going through, and…. I figured that maybe I could take a crack at trying to provide that hit of fluff for people dealing with those things, if I can, and hopefully use my own experience with them to do it in as respecful and accurate a way as possible. 

All that being said, the first oneshot in this little project is going to be dealing with a pretty heavy subject, that being eating disorders. The reader in this fic does struggle with eating disorders - specifically anorexia and bulimia. I will not be actively describing anything too graphic about these disorders in this fic, except to highlight through implication and some sparse details that this is what’s happening here, as well as show some of the inner thought processes of the reader, but there definitely is enough in here to show that that’s what’s going on, so if anyone would be triggered by that, please take care of yourselves and give this one a pass! Also, I will further disclaim that there are many types of eating disorders, and everyone’s experience with them is different. In this oneshot, I wrote based off what I know to have been true during the time in my life when I struggled with the same conditions, and I really tried to make the fluff and support as kind and encouraging as I possibly could. If for ANY REASON there’s something that I did badly at, or something that’s disrespectful, anyone reading this may feel more than free to let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it! I don’t want this fic to be a place where anyone feels hurt or disrespected, that isn’t my intention at all, and if I make a mistake in that regard for any reason whatsoever, I would really appreciate knowing so that I can correct it!

Anyways, after that extremely lengthy A/N, just… please know, if you’re going through something like this, that you’re not alone, that help does exist and is out there, and that you are seen and heard. And take this Loki fluff, because honestly, there can never be too much of that in the world! 

You know that he worries about you. Even before his latest, three-week mission, you know that he worried about you. In the mornings, as you pour your coffee, you watch him watch you with careful nonchalance, gaze boring into the back of your head, slight furrow creasing his eyebrows, frown pulling small at his lips. He dresses early, because he wakes early; it is a battle, most mornings, for you to get out of bed. And so what, if you take your coffee with more creamer than is necessarily normal - it has to last you a long time, this coffee. You need the sugar of it, to get you to that clean pain. It is sharper, more real, than any scalpel, any knife that Loki keeps concealed by his armor; all that fine Asgardian leather, green and supple and him. It gives you back the control that you lack. Lets you be the person that you would be. 

It’s not that you’re afraid of your body, but you are ashamed by it; cannot fathom, even now with his gaze on you, that Loki could love somebody so dreadfully overweight. 

Today, though - Today, you had thought, you had hoped, that it might be different. You don’t know why you have that hope, but it brims up in you; a physical need, a visible yearning, for you to be enough for once. Someone that Loki can stand to look at. Someone that Loki can love. He is looking at you now like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you flinch from the frown that creases his piercing gaze, unable to bear how it roves up the planes of your body; silhoutted in the light coming in through the window, you can feel each ounce of fat that stretches over your sinew, cartilage. (You know that Loki hates your body - He traces it sometimes like he’s probing you, trying to find where your bones are. You wish that you could call him on it, and know that you never could). 

You stand at the counter, and turn from him; rummage in the cabinet for your coffee mug with shaking fingers; you almost feel like they’re rubber. Blue and cold, like his Jotun skin, but you know that it isn’t enough. Pins and needles prick at them - you can almost convince yourself that it’s only your guilt and shame, but you cannot hide from the pain suffusing Loki’s voice when he speaks. 

“Darling,” He says, on a shaky breath, “We need to talk about this.” 

“I know -” You tell him - you know that you can’t run from this, anymore. He knows how you look, how nothing you do is fixing it. And now, he’s going to leave you. “I know, Loki - I tried, Loki, I’m so sorry -“ 

The agony that wells up in you threatens to overwhelm your ability to speak, and you feel your knees buckle the second before you fall. Your kneecaps slam against the cupboard underneath the sink, your head hitting the edge of the counter as you slide down hard to the floor. It hurts. But every part of your body hurts, these days. It’s as constant as your worthlessness. And something else, too - 

He is there, on the floor with you, in less time than it takes place to blink, pulling you hard and desperate into his arms; you don’t understand why, and you try to wrench yourself from him, sobs bubbling up and spilling out from your tightly shut eyes. You can feel the bruises starting to form on you, a lump throbbing at your temple. 

“Love,” He is saying, “Y/N, sweetheart, come back to me. Come back to me, darling, please.” He is stroking your hair; you feel his fingers at its strands, thin and brittle. God, you think, how pathetic you are - you can’t even keep yourself pretty for him, for this god and all the sacrifices that he’s made. You cry harder, unable to stop your own wailing. When you finally do, you’re exhausted - it takes everything out of you. 

“Loki,” You say, on a wretched whine, “I’m so cold.” 

“Hush,” He says, “You’re alright. You’ll be warm soon - We’ll sort it, darling, I promise.” 

You don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t something you can sort, but somehow you know, deep in your heart, that Loki understands. Still, his voice is so sweet, and the shudders that wrack you begin to halt in the steady hold of his embrace; the tender brush of his fingers over your skin. You feel like you can look at him, now, so you do it, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth to steel yourself for the cruel things you’re certain he’ll start with. But Loki’s gaze isn’t angry at you, not full of fury or disgust. They sparkle with unshed tears and concern, emerald in the daylight. It takes you a moment too long to realize all that pain, all that worry, is for you; when you do, though, you flinch away. Feel Loki’s fingers drop from your hairline to your cheek, then your chin, tilting your head up so that you can’t run and hide. 

“I’m losing you, love,” Loki says. His voice is low, and steeped in sorrow. It is his turn to look down, with guilt and shame, and you feel a pang blossom, raw and red, in your heart. He sighs, and straightens his shoulders. He is filled with some new resolution, some new determination you can’t wince away from. 

“I need to know,” Loki tells you, “How long this has been going on. I need to - I need you to tell me why, love. I can’t bear to see you like this.” 

“I can’t,” You say, blinking back a fresh torrent of tears, “Tell you why. It’s not - I can’t - I don’t know.” 

But you know, and Loki does, too. It’s the god of lies, holding you - of course he can tell that you’re lying. It is something other, and runs deep, this bone-y reluctance. A complex game of mental gymnastics. How could you ever tell Loki about the control that it gives you, the desperation with which you used all your calorie-counting and aching restraint to regain the love that you lost? The nights bent over toilet bowls; the way that, sometimes, you empty stomach made you dig your nails hard into your palms ’til they bled, to stop yourself from crying out at the pain. And he loves you - the part of you that craves his affection, that yearns to burrow fast and fierce into Loki’s embrace and spill all your secrets to him, makes sure to remind you of that.

“Y/N,” Says Loki, soft and tender, yet infused with a note so harsh that you would wince, if you could. “You can tell me anything. You need to.” 

You notice things, now, in the face of his determination. You notice that Loki is looking at you like he’s in physical pain, and that there’s something sticky and red on the pads of the fingers that brushed up against your head. 

“I’m bleeding,” You say. It comes out soft, horrified. 

The frown that creases Loki’s face would bring you to your knees, if you weren’t there already. 

“It’s just - a thing that I do,” You tell him, too ashamed to look at his face as you reveal it. “You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“That’s not enough for me, love.” 

Loki’s lips are pursed tight, and the wound in his eyes has hardened to steel. The you part of your body - the fleeing part, the one who knows how to survive - seizes its’ chance and you duck out of his embrace, with far more strength than you had possessed in what felt like, potentially, years. Scrambles, backwards, like a cornered animal, over the tile floor, before heaving itself up to standing. It faces Loki, and its’ breath comes in stabbing-sharp. It is hard to remember that you have to call it ‘myself’. You feel older than you were, yesterday, and you cannot, quite, get air to come into your lungs. That’s not enough for me, you hear your lover say, ringing in your ears like a hyena’s howl. 

You’re not enough for me, love. Your fingers spasm, clutching the sides of the kitchen table white-knuckled. You wonder, fleetingly, what Loki would do if you died. The thought makes you cry out in pain, a whimper ripping out from a throat rubbed fingernail-raw, but Loki does not move to stand. 

“Come back to me,” He tells you, spiked with sorrow and need. And, perhaps for the first time, you admit it - to yourself, as much as to him. 

“I don’t - I don’t think I know how.” 

He smiles the smiole of someone who’s seen his own pain, faced his own lashing demons, and you pause to take him in fully, this god who says that he loves you, the man he is trying to be. You catch on hixs eyes, those bright emerald coins, his hair like the feathers of crows. His high, pale cheekbones, and his silver-tongue cut like glass. The pads of his fingertips, slender and cold, tender and fierce on your skin or the hilt of a dagger. You breathe in the smell of him, parchment and iron; peppermint tea and the smoke from a lorn, crimson fire. Wet leaves, after a rain. You feel your resolve start to waver. 

“Well,” He says, all thoughtful, all trickster, “Sitting down, I believe, would be a good place to begin.” 

The teasing lilt of his voice - an act that he is putting on, and all for you, always for you - cajoles you, coaxing you to lever your elbows and slide back down onto the floor, your weary legs feeling unimaginably grateful. Loki shoots you a new smile now, light and proud. He beckons you, with a cock of his head and a slim, fond gesture, to him - Of a sudden, the tiles beneath you seem like a desert, an ocean. You feel the weight of your emptiness. It laughs at you, its’ white teeth filed and barred. In your head, your failure is heavy; a hot and cackling creature with seven-foot claws pressing down on your chest, restricting your matchstick limbs. You are lost to the unyielding insistence of it, trapped in the maw of its cage, and Loki’s words, when they come, sound as far away as the shores of a country ancient and foreign. 

“I was hardly gone,” He is saying, but you cannot answer him. “How could it have gotten this bad?” 

It is that - that sadness, that fear in your lover - that breaks you, and you take the thing at a clumsy, terror-steeped sprint, not caring how wretched you look, so long as you can reach him - So long, you finally let yourself think, as there is something left of you for Loki to hold in his arms. Your body hurts worse than anything. You feel every scrape and bruise and chill on it; the pins and knives working at oxygen-starved nerves, and the gnawing clamp of your hunger, a brand pressing into your gut; and you know that Loki can’t save you. But maybe, just maybe, you can find some way to save yourself. And his fingers are there, going up to your hair, thumb rubbing at a hollow cheek and catching the salty dirge of an errant tear. 

“It gets better, you know,” Loki tells you. He gets you onto his lap; you feel his heartbeat under your palms where you clutch tightly at his shirt to hold yourself up. A steady, thrumming proof that he is alive. And when he says it, you get the sense that, somehow, you’ve always know it, this whispered secret he’s weaving into your soul. “If you get proper help for it. If you want it to.” 

He speaks casually, but there is a weight to his words. Miraculously - you’re not quite so sure how - you find yourself able to meet them. 

“I want it to,” You tell him. “I didn’t, before - “ And here his eyes widen, and he shakes his head like you’ve shot him - “But I do. I want to -“ 

“Alright, love,” He tells you, running a soothing hand down over your side, past the hard planes of your collarbone, “Alright. It’s okay. You’re such a strong person- It’s going to be hard, for awhile, but I know that you can get through this. I’ll be right here with you, darling. Right here, by your side.” 

“You will?” You ask him, voice cracking, hardly daring to hope that despite all this, he would stay. He chuckles, sadly, as if your thinking it hurts him, and he is deadly serious when he tells you,

“Y/N, of course I will.” 

Somehow, though he’s the god of lies, you don’t doubt his words for an instant. You nod, and the nodding takes effort. Yet you are certain he understands what you mean. 

“So,” Says Loki, “Can you - Tell me about this?” 

You have to think, for a minute. Can you tell Loki about this? You know that he’s telling the truth, that he isn’t going to leave you. Still, you’ve never been this vulnerable with him before, not even in bed, and the fear in you won’t be put to rest so easily. You shake in his hold, and realize, with a frigid shock, how you must look to him - how badly you are hurting him, and how badly you’re hurting yourself, by keeping your feelings inside yourself and leaving your body to rot. You know, now, that Loki will  help you through this - that he will be there, kind touches skirting the bad days; warm, mischevious smirks smoothing the wrinkles of your persistent self-doubts. There was a time when you needed to do this - there will, probably, still be days when you feel like you need to do this, to get a firm hold over your life, and keep the jackals at bay. There are other words to keep yourself safe, though. Loki’s breath in the dark is more home to you than anything you’ve ever had, and his open waiting, here in the daylight, makes you brave enough to speak. 

“Maybe… Over lunch?” You offer. You bite your lip and hold out the query, a silky pearl in your hand. For one moment, Loki seems to consider; after all, he is the trickster, and a man not given to acting rashly, or stripping the drama from his complicated schemes. If this is a scheme, you think that you might forgive him - Later, when his lips are on your frame, when you’re there with him, again. His lips twitch into a grin so affectionate and proud that you know- you know - that if you seek proper care and really want to get better, you’ll get through the days that feel like walking on broken glass. You’ve done so much for me, that grin tells you. Let me do this for you.

He reaches out, and takes the pearl. You hardly recognize the man who rained hell down on New York, who snorts and jabs with sarcasm at every word that comes out of Iron Man’s mouth. 

“Breakfast?” He counters, shooting a pointed glance at the microwave clock. It is a dare and a promise - a challenge, but never a trick. It tastes like honey on your tongue. 

“Fine,” You say, “But you’ll have to cook.” Some kind of joy is creeping its way into you. Your voice, you find, barely trembles. 

“Midgardians,” Lok says, with an eye-roll - a friendly, loving glint in his eyes that refuses to fade. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who burns water.” The joke prods your tender, new understanding, reassures you that he is still Loki; that he isn’t going to treat you differently, like a child, just because you’re suffering. The smile comes full onto you, and you wriggle, stretching your arms over your head and yawning, exaggerated for effect to add to the banter. 

“I never said that I couldn’t cook,” You tell Loki, “Just wanted you to do it.” 

“Mm,” He says, “And what will you be doing, then, while I cook?” 

You chew at your lip, and choose to answer before your nerves make you panic. 

“Finding the right words,” You admit, laying the truth bare to him. 

His hands are wending through your hair now, and his lips are unberarably gentle on yours. He tastes like embers and ink. That sweet, slightly metalic tang that you’ve come to associate with his magic; cinnamon, tinged with steel. He kisses you for a second or two, before pulling away,  but you could live in those seconds - Unfold it, like a blanket, and let the care of it warm your thin, freezing bones, if Loki weren’t here to show you that, with the right help, you can learn how to do it yourself. 

“Finding the right words,” Loki muses, vaulting himself up to stand in a movement that’s unfairly graceful. “I’d much prefer yours, to be honest.” 

He holds a hand out, and you take it, letting him pull you up. The floor, underneath you, feels solid. The sun is coming through the clouds, and out there in the wide world you can hear bird-song, the low, sugared sway of the breeze. There is something else there, too: 

You let it wrap its tendrils around you, and you decide that it’s hope. 

[stxrsshuumaiii]

Introduction 2 (two) *Jazz Hands*

Right so I’ve had this account since like april and i have over 1.3k followers. I haven’t done an introduction since so I feel like I should definitely update it?? I’ve changed a lot as a person since then sooo

Hi guys, I use they/them/theirs and It/It’s/Itself pronouns! my name is Salem (feel free to call me Sae :) ) I’m 16 years old, if you’re under the age of 15 please go away. (You can be 15 years old that’s fine tho.) I’m personally uncomfortable with anyone underneath that age interacting with my page. I think you shouldn’t have tumblr (let alone be on THIS side) that young. I’m still very young, yes, but this is coming from the place in my heart that has been permanently affected by being nine years old and having free reign of the internet. it makes me uncomfortable. go away.

Monthly i update in my bio if I’m active! It’ll give you a general idea of if i’ve been on or not. Don’t worry too much if it’s been a couple months, I’m a full time high school student, and theatre kid and my schedule at the moment is jam packed. I very easily forget about tumblr, and this isn’t even my main account nor do my friends have me on here, so! Mutuals, ily mwah. Feel free to bother the heck out of me. Also feel free to just randomly text me! I will totally try to hold a convo with you, but I get burnt out easily so (T^T).

I really REALLY enjoy fine arts as my hobbies (Choir, dance, theatre, orchestra, etc.) and I also enjoy writing and learning different languages. I’m the master of procrastination, though, so. My favorite animals are cats (and dogs, they’re like SOOOO close, but mostly cats) and i’m currently manifesting one everyone help me manifest for a cat.

My blog started off as an ED blog, because I struggled deeply (and still do) with EDNOS (leaning towards atypical anorexia). over time it has turned into vent content… and cats… and pretty pictures. Really it’s just a side blog for me to be able to express personal things and also have fun with it without anyone IRL interacting, so.. if you know me IRL DO NOT INTERACT!! I’m begging !! It’s embarrassing for me, and I hate explaining myself or answering to someone.

Other things i struggle with are Major Depressive Disorder, OCD, and a personality disorder of some kind I just don’t know yet. I’m hoping to get it looked into some time soon. I’m a messy amalgamation of mental disorders and It’s difficult. Both my parents struggle with a mental illness or personality disorder of some kind and it has a long running history in my family. It sucks, yes, but that’s why I love having this blog to be able to talk about it! Please block me, don’t report. It’s my coping mechanism and it’s really important I keep it.

Too long; didn’t read:

call me salem! and use they/them/it/it’s pronouns! Do not interact if you’re underneath the age of 15 (being 15 is ok). I really like cats (and goldfish but I already have 3). I’m dedicated full time to school and fine arts so I’m quite busy and not always active, but I talk a lot and I’m always willing to get to know people of all different kinds of backgrounds! Stay safe my loves.

Also this is not exclusively an ED blog but HUGE trigger warning for that type of content, bruises, blood, self harm, heavy vents and child abuse (as in, i might talk about my own experiences with child abuse)

[hellitwasyoufirstsergeant]

Today would be Princess Diana’s 60th birthday!

To honour the occasion and her memory in my own little way, I want to share how she has helped me with my own problems. Please don’t read below the cut if mental health and eating disorders are triggers for you. Thank you to the few wonderful friends who encouraged me to post this, most especially to Pearl for as always being one of my biggest supporters and giving me endless advice about this post 🤍

— what with one thing and another, this post isn’t quite finished. I wrote most of it a few days ago, but have only had the time today to add on a paragraph. I hope the message I intended to convey still comes across. Also I haven’t edited this so apologies if it doesn’t flow well, or for any grammar and spelling errors

Some of you reading this will know I made a post here in November about my eating disorder. At the time it had been a whole year since my last binge, the longest I’d ever gone without binge eating since the problem started a decade ago.

Now the best I can say is that it’s been two months since my last binge. As my mental health worsened, I didn’t feel like I could turn to friends for help because I was embarrassed and didn’t want to be a burden, so binging became my crutch again, although thankfully binges were still less frequent than they were when I was a teenager.

I put off watching season 4 of The Crown because I didn’t have any particular interest in the Charles/Diana saga and felt weird about seeing one of my favourite actresses play Thatcher. But I was bored one day in early May and decided to finally watch it.

I connected to Diana far more than I thought I would. I knew that her eating disorder was portrayed in the show, and an amazing friend who knew it was a trigger for me had told me which scenes to avoid. And yet I still managed to connect to her story. The way her eating disorder was dismissed by Charles and other members of the family struck a chord with how my own parents dismissed my eating problems (my mum has been very supportive about my other mental health issues, but I wish she’d handled my binge eating differently).

In one scene, Diana is made to feel insecure by a throwaway comment of Camilla’s, which then triggers a binge, something which I could relate to, as insecurity was a driving factor behind my disorder. Loneliness is something I’ve struggled with for most of my life, and it’s the other main reason that I used to binge. Seeing Diana’s story, made me feel so much less lonely. Here was someone, a princess no less, who went through so many of the same experiences I did.

I’ve seen several (mostly very inaccurate) portrayals of anorexia in the media, but before Diana I’d never seen anything depicting either binge eating disorder or bulimia. It’s known, but it’s rarely talked about. A friend said to me that people are still in search of answers and a promise that things do get better, and I know that’s exactly how I felt before I watched Diana’s story, and I think her story gave me what I needed to push through and get better again.

After I made that post in November, I still struggled very much to talk about my ED. It’s still difficult for me. But seeing Diana’s story helped me learn to open up a little more. I found the bravery to tell more of my friends, and through doing so I found that a couple of my friends also have their own struggles with disordered eating. Seeing the response to Diana’s portrayal in the show, and the beginnings of healthy, open discussion about EDs has certainly helped me feel less alone in my struggle. With the help of honest discussions with friends, I’m finally unlearning bad habits with food that I’ve formed over the past ten years, and already I can feel the benefits of being physically more healthy.

This week has been incredibly difficult, and so temptation has once again reared its ugly head, as it so often does when I’m struggling with other things. I used to feel guilty about even being tempted, but this would often only drive me to binge, as the more negative emotions I have, the more likely I am to do so. But I’ve learnt to accept that it’s okay. No one, including me, can help their emotions. I can resist acting on them, but it’s okay to feel them. I’ve learnt to sit with them and recognise that binge eating is an irrational response to any situation, and I think that seeing it happen to someone else, albeit on a tv show, helped me realise that more than ever.

Diana’s untimely death robbed the world of an amazing woman who not only overcame an eating disorder on her own, but raised two sons, and did an incredible amount for good causes, most famously breaking down AIDS stigmas. Before I watched the show, I didn’t believe I had the strength in me to overcome an eating disorder for the second time. But Diana showed me that I could, and while the journey isn’t over yet and healing takes a long time, I’m on the right road and headed in the right direction.

[melancholic-pigeon]

cw: weight talk

I gained almost 40 pounds when I was put on a particular medication and lost it all when I was taken off several years later, at unfortunately the same time as a health relapse— namely chronic nausea + food intolerances— that made me lose a bunch more weight. Like, to scary degrees that I hadn't seen since I went into remission from anorexia nervosa almost a decade ago.

Medicated!me was at a much higher weight than I've ever been before or since, but she also didn't bruise herself on her own bones whenever she laid on her side, or go numb in the ass when she sat down on anything that wasn't cushioned enough, or stay up all night in horrible stomach pain because she'd stopped feeling hunger and couldn't distinguish between "needs food", "ate too much" and "is intolerant to the food".

She didn't have to panic when she ran out of ginger beer in case she couldn't choke anything else down. She never started crying in a grocery store because she couldn't find a nutrition shake she wasn't intolerant of.

I don't miss the medication or its other side effects, but I miss that girl.

When I'm this fucking skinny, I feel sick. I mean, I feel sick all the time, but this is feeling sick in a different way. Fibro won't kill me; if I don't get a handle on my weight, I'm going to end up in the hospital.

And like, there's that obesity-concern-trolling point that gets trotted out about ~oh it's hard on your joints!!!~

and yeah. my weight has certainly negatively impacted my joints. There's nothing there to protect them! I'm all sharp edges and brittleness and frailty! I would give almost anything to just gain some fucking weight and keep it on! You know what's hard on the fucking joints? MALNOURISHMENT!

I've been trying to be good about calorically dense food, but getting violently ill whenever I go near a legume has made that fifty times harder and immeasurably more frustrating.

I put cheese and butter on everything. Whenever possible, I avoid cooking with water and use milk instead. The amount of potatoes I consume is actually kind of impressive. I bake all the time, so I always have pumpkin muffins or buttermilk biscuits or cinnamon rolls or something in the house that I can easily grab. I make corn chowder with bacon and heavy cream every few months and keep a batch in my freezer.

And I'm still struggling like this.

I know it's a slow road, but I just want to not be so lightheaded all the time. My mood and focus are bad enough already, dammit.

And I'd been maintaining for a while before this, too, which is probably why it's so upsetting.

None of my clothes fit me either. I'm running out of safety pins.

[roxxelll]

Good day all. Since today is my 26th birthday, I’ve been doing a bit of reflecting & I thought it’d be fitting to share a part of myself I seldom talk about. A little over a week ago, it was the ninth anniversary of my admittance to rehab. I haven’t thought about my time there for a long while but for some reason this year I’ve been a little overwhelmed with emotion. I thought I’d write it all down and share a bit of it in hopes that it might help someone, whether it’s to shift their thinking or give them a little hope. 

I wrote the piece below almost 6 years ago but after reading over it I still find it one of the most eloquent things I might’ve tried to express. The reason I chose to share it is to say to anyone- if you are struggling and this time is testing your mental health and your strength, you are stronger than you think. A bad day doesn’t mean you are losing, it means you are coping and working hard at beating your own demons. 

I don’t talk about this side of my life a whole lot but it would be nice if you could share it if you resonate with it in some way or if you feel like you know someone who might. 

>>It gets a little long and there are TRIGGERS for eating disorders so please proceed with caution !!! << 

I do this thing where I often brush over my anorexia in conversation, and as expected, this might be the first time many of you are hearing of it. I just never felt the need to tell my story to the people in my life, I never wanted it to be the thing that everyone rolls their eyes about. 

However, I think it is time for me to tell my story. In full. What prompted me was that I have seen how my story became an inspiration for someone else; a reason for them to feel that they are not alone in the world. I was in awe that something so terrible in my life could be used for something so good.

This is the story of my eating disorder and I.

19 January, 2015

My mind was my body’s worst enemy. It was a weapon of mass destruction, ticking away in my head. Misconceptions invaded my mind and multiplied into thoughts and soon after their images were all I saw in the mirror.

I can’t give my mind all the credit; I didn’t create all the misconceptions in my own mind, even if they were all allowed to grow there. My mind only mimicked what it was being fed at just about every turn. One of the things I remember so vividly is seeing an underwear model. She was sexy and beautiful and I could think of nothing I wanted more in the world than her body. So started the worst train of thought I have ever had: the aspiration for perfection.

The media can be a scary thing. As a teenager, it was pretty much most of what everyone was talking about and consuming on a day to day basis. By the time I was in grade 10 in high school, all my time had been consumed by trying to getting the best grades and only producing my best work in my visual arts class. My time in the sports field ceased all together and in my mind the only way for me to achieve my standards of perfection was to go down the dark, sinister route that I had not even realised I'd taken.

On 26 October 2011, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. There is no easy way to explain the feeling of your own head telling you that you are not good enough, that you are disgusting, that you are too fat, that you may not eat.

2011 was not a good year for me, I remember so well that a bad day would grow into a bad week and eventually evolve into bad months. My family seemed as dysfunctional as ever, I picked up the nasty habit of smoking and the stress of school had only weakened my state of mind. I hated what I was and I had somehow convinced myself that everyone else around me felt the same way, when in fact I was the one pushing them away. Sometime in mid October, armed robbers had broken into my house. No one in my family was hurt, but I had gotten away with a broken arm and a few bruises.

It was then in hospital that doctors had noticed there was something off about me. It must have been brain shattering for my parents to see what had been eating away at me for months only at that moment. How could they when all I did was hide from the world?

I was admitted into rehab after that and I did not sit for my November exams. In six months I had lost 14kgs. I have been in remission since.

My life was consumed by loss. First it was the weight, then my strength, and eventually demons began to nibble away at my personality. I watched my life crumble away as fast as my body did. My hair started to fall out and my nails stopped growing. I lost my period all together. My bones stuck out of my body like they were unwanted intruders, I became as frail, dead and dull as an old building.

Misconceptions are the hardest scars to heal. They forced my body apart from my mind. I have learned that it's called body disconnection, the feeling of being absolutely cut off from your body. No experience was good enough in my body because my mind wanted to be as far from this body as possible. I don't know how you can even explain it... Imagine wanting to be so far out of a room you would give anything to leave it. Now imagine that was your own body and you can start to understand body disconnection. You can leave an uncomfortable room. You can’t evacuate your own body. Excruciating, isn’t it? Looking in the mirror, I never saw a body that was perfect, only the disgusting images of what my mind had made me believe I looked like: the image of imperfection. It was shattering, painful and exhausting..

It's been three years now.

I'm quite proud to admit that my annoying need to overachieve at everything has been my biggest weakness and my greatest strength. I never wanted to do something halfway, and this was no different: I got an eating disorder as bad as they go. But I sure as hell got a recovery as good as they go. I have not relapsed or regressed. I have just grown in confidence and in strength. I haven’t done that on my own: the support I have had from just about every corner of my life has been my lifeline. Even on Tumblr where people are so confident just to share selfies and feel good about how great they look. Nothing makes me happier to see people love who they are. The people in my life have fought with me in my corner with so much strength they could collectively save the world. I am not sure I could ever find the words to describe the impact they have made.

People tell me every day how far I have come in three years. They see me eat and think it is all over. There is little truth in an assumption so bold. Here’s the thing no one told me about when I first thought an eating disorder is a good idea: it never leaves you. It just becomes less overwhelming. I still have the scars to face every day. I say remission because I never really heal. Then again I am only human and people often forget that when I have a bad day. The truth is I face my worst fear every time I sit down to eat no matter how much it seems like I love food.

I'm not perfect, no one is. And in time I've learned this fact and to love myself. I don't burst at the seams with confidence, but I definitely have more now than what I did three years ago. There are days where a relapse sits on the horizon but you just have to hold your head high and fight it. I don't write this in hopes of becoming a role model but I do hope it inspires people, not just those who face what I did, but with any curve ball life decides to throw at them. There's always a way out if you're willing to look for it.

_______________

I wrote this five years ago. This passed year has probably been the biggest test of my recovery in a long time. Staying at home with constant worries about access to the gym, my safe foods and social distancing are prime triggers for a relapse for me. It’s true that you never fully recover, but you do get better with time. Every day is a constant fight against my ED, depression and anxiety, and there are many days where it seems like climbing this never-ending mountain is impossible. But I’ve come to realise that any step we take in pushing against it (even just acknowledging our emotions and thoughts) is one in the right direction. 

In the past week I have thought quite a lot about my anorexia and impact it has had on my life, my family and my body. And the truth is, I still choose to wake up and fight the “mad bitch” everyday. Some days are definitely harder than others, sometimes it’s easy. But I win everytime because I choose to fight it. So I really hope that anyone fighting their demons (whatever they may be) will reflect on how strong they are and the journey they have walked.   ♡ 

[mytwistedhome]

Diasomnia members when they find out you have Anorexia

Trigger warning to anyone who suffers with an eating disorder!!

It’s one of those nights again... Writing these headcanons to give myself some solace. 

I hope this can maybe bring comfort to someone else, or at least provide some bit of entertainment. My intention is not to cause harm or trigger anyone. That is the last thing I want.

This time, these headcanons are for Diasomnia members. I’ve already posted ones for Pomefiore and Ignihyde (of which you can see on my blog, if you desire), and the other dorms will likely be posted the next time I need some self cheer-up.

I swear I’ll have some proper writings up tomorrow, and even more by the end of the week. And, I intend to keep my promises this time. Sorry, I’m really not much of an angel if I’m being honest. I sincerely apologize to the friends and the requesters of whom I’ve neglected. You don’t deserve to wait and wait just to see me break a promise and go back on my word. That’s entirely my fault, and with my whole heart, I am sorry.

💚

Malleus Draconia

So this is how humans hate themselves? How horrifically graceful...

Not gonna lie, he romanticizes the idea quite a bit at first

He watches with a morbid curiosity as you quickly grow thinner and thinner day after day, and how you stumble around weakly in a constant dizzy state

He finds it fascinating how a weak human can withstand such torture brought onto them by themselves

It really is odd, isn’t it?

You, a human, already bound to die after several years of life, are hurting yourself even further

You are so delicate... He's really enthralled. It's so strange how you hurt yourself in a sickly yet gracious way, and he cannot help but watch from afar

But, he knows that he cannot simply watch you forever as you kill yourself

He sees how much you are hurting and suffering, and he grows incredibly sad for you

You don't deserve to go through such pain. What ever made you decide to do this?

He can't possibly imagine what it must be like, and he becomes mournful over you

And he's now determined to bring you help, some way, somehow...

He tries to confront you about it. On those nights when the two if you run into each other outside the Ramshackle dorm, he'll make vague, elusive references to your starving yourself

The way he goes about it is oddly beautiful. He says things like "it's been several days since we've talked like this. You've grown thinner from before," and "it's often lonely and empty, the day's without you, much like how your stomach goes empty," or "you always seemed mesmerized by my abilities, particularly when I vanish from your eyes, but isn't it the same when you float through life in a dazed state of mind? From that dizziness brought on by hunger?"

And you're left with your mouth wide open, absolutely stunned. He knows. Somehow, he knows

But you still play dumb, wondering what in earth he means, knowing all too well what it is he means...

Malleus sighs sadly. The look on his face is incredibly hopeless and pitiful (and for a moment, you feel guilty for having brought him to such an emotion) before he crossed his arms and his look turns dour. He's done dancing around this topic

He's very straightforward now, telling you sternly that you need to stop this. Stop hurting yourself, stop killing yourself

He tries not to let his own feelings show, but his jaw softens and his lower lip trembles every now and then

You become overwhelmed with sadness, guilt, and self-hatred. Those are the exact emotions that Malleus was trying not to stir, but you just can't help it as he scolds you so seriously. Just how long had he known? How long had he been watching and worrying over you?

When he's done speaking, you let out a wretched gasp as you clutch your chest, your heart palpitating from the overflow of emotions, and the hunger, and the sudden movement

Malleus reaches out to you, his hands clutching your arms and steadying you on your feet as your knees buckle

He stares at you wide-eyed in shock, unable to say another word. He knows that you are weak and your health is poor, but what caused you to react in such a way just now?

Your stomach feels as if it's caving inwards, and a coldness spreads throughtout your body

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. You know that Malleus is worried for you, and you didn't mean to make him worry, but you really just wish he didn't know... That this could still just be your secret and you would get help on your own when you're ready

Oh, god... this didn't help. Somehow, this whole confrontation triggered you. Now you just want to starve yourself even more, continuing this way forever

But Malleus won't let that happen, even if it hurts you (as in, emotionally) to stop. Continuing this way would break his heart

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia’s been around. He knows how serious eating disorders can get. I’m sure he’s seen other who have suffered or even died from it.

Actually, he was the one who suspected that you had anorexia

He noticed how you would pick apart your food before eating, how you chew so slowly, and how you are always eager to leave the meal table

Not to mention how you almost cower away in fear when certain foods are offered to you

Also not to mention how you gaze longingly at other people's plates

To him, it's obvious because he can pick up on all the subtle signs.

Confronting you is a bit tricky... He really doesn't know how to approach you about it in a way that will make you open up

When he's around you, he'll begin to ask you questions in concern

He'll often ask you if you're okay, if you're feeling alright, etc. You always lie

He knows you're lying, but he won't mention it. He'll just continue to ask if you're doing okay with sincerity every time he's around you

Eventually, you begin to realize that he is someone who might very genuinely care about you, and you are very touched by his concern. No one has ever been so worried about you before

One day, when the two of you are alone, you say something like "I'm actually not okay..."

And then you vent to him for a very long time

You even start to cry

He keeps silent through your venting, but he listens intently to every word you have to say

When you're done, he gives you a sad smile and tries his best to console you

He lets you know that you can reach out to him anytime you need

Overtime, he convinces you to seek help and receive actual treatment and recovery

Probably the most successful of all the guys in putting you on the road to recovery!

Silver

He is very taken aback

Truly, he doesn't know what to say or what to do

He immediately feels so, so bad for you... His heart mourns for all the suffering you must have been going through

He tries to be sympathetic... He really does

But at the same time, he's a bit worried about getting involved. How are you going to react to his knowing? Will you really take kindly to his concern? Or, will you push him away, as is so common a symptom of this disease?

He subtly watches you as you eat your meals. He's quite good at watching without making it seem so, and he uses this skill to keep an eye on you in concern

He sees how you cut your food into tiny pieces, how you push it around in your dish, hardly ever bringing the fork to your lips...

And his heart breaks. How pitiful it is to see you like this

He wishes he could just reach his arms out and somehow save you, help you... But that wouldn't work, would it? This is a very real problem; he can't just save you in a fanciful way, no matter how badly he wishes

He gathers the courage to approach you about it, just to let you know that he's aware of your struggle and that he's willing to listen if ever you need to talk to someone

He sits down beside you after classes one day as you're doing a bit of studying/reading. You what's you to feel as comfortable as possible, not like he's pushing you to open up if you aren't ready

You smile when you see him come close, happy to have his company

Well, this seems like it's off to a good start!

The two of you exchange a few words of warm conversation, but then a silence falls, and you see Silver's face darken, turning into a sad expression

And, after a bit of hesitation, he tells you that he knows... He knows how you starve yourself, and how you suffer, but assures you that all he wants is to help and be there for you

You are quite stunned, only staring at him blankly, unsure of what to say

It certainly cought you off guard, having him say it just like that...

After a moment, you thank him for his offer and for his concern, and you really do appreciate it

But... You are still very alarmed

You excuse yourself and head back to your firm, trying to take this all in

How long had he known...? You knew he was trustworthy and kind, but you weren't sure if you weren't sure if you wanted to let him in to such a private and major part of your life

From then on, you begin avoiding him, not wanting to let him in. It hurts him to see you hide away from him, but he expected this to happen

But then, one day, you are having it particularly rough, and you feel so miserable... You call Silver, just to hear his voice. Just to have some company. Just to feel like you aren't alone.

And he does everything he can to comfort you, listening intently to all you have to say

He doesn't push you to eat, or urge you to get help, he is just... there. And that is all you could ever ask for

He continues to be the friend of whom you seek out for comfort, and Silver is happy to be there for you whenever you need

Sebek Zigvolt

He finds out after he catches you in his arms upon your fainting

He's used to Silver falling asleep at random, but the way that you wobbled across the room, shuffling your feet and swaying as you tried to walk in a straight line, then spinning as your eyes rolled back, trying to find your balance as you babbled out incoherent sounds before sinking to the ground...

He's certainly not used to that. It terrified him to see you in such a state, and that fear turned into overwhelming worry for your well-being

He had rushed to your side before your head clashed with the hard ground. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders as your head tilted back onto his chest

He gazes at you with absolute panic, his mouth agape and eyes wide with fear

He tries to shake you awake, but your head just bobs and your arms fall limply at your side, your legs having already given out entirely

In panic, he shouts for help while also loudly urging you to get up, wake up, and stand on your own two feet

Luckily, his voice was heard by a couple others (probably just Lilia or another elder student) who come rushing into the room

They see you passed out with your sickly pale and gaunt face, and they advise Sebek to immediately take you to the school's infirmary, to which he promptly obeys and carries you there

He leaves you in the care of the nurses, and the whole time that the two of you are parted, his mind is reeling with worry

He can't bring himself to relax at all. He's all strained and stressed over you! He's unimaginably worried. He really wants you to be alright...

When you finally return to your consciousness, Sebek is one of the first to know, and he immediately rushes to wherever you are, regardless if you're still feeling dreary

He, very loudly, bombards you with questions as he tries to make sure that you are alright

He's still in a bit of a panic... Are you sure that you're okay?

You assure him that you're feeling fine now as you chew and swallow your 180 calorie granola bar

Sebek is relieved, but now he's demanding answers. How did you pass out in such a scary way? What happened then? What's going on with you?

Your head starts to spin once again at his pressing questions. You can't just tell him that you don't eat

Like with Epel, you try to make excuses. First, you try telling him that you were just overheated

Sebek doesn't buy that; he explains to you that you felt cold to the touch and had goosebumps all over your body when he caught you in his arms

You then try to say that you are anemic

That could be true, but now Sebek knows you are lying, and he presses you even further

Tears start to well up in your eyes. You don't want to come forward with this secret!

But he keeps pushing you with his loud voice... You can tell that he cares, and you feel bad for making him worry so much

Maybe you can trust him...

On the condition of him keeping his voice down, you tell him. You tell him that you fainted because you purposefully don't eat enough

He doesn't take it too well... He actually grows angry

How could you do such a thing to yourself???

You beg him to please, please calm down. You try to explain to him that this is something you can't really help...

After you briefly try to explain, his brows furrow together, as if in a glare, but his eyes are so full of sorrow

His chest tightens in pain and pity... Pity and sorrow for you. That's what he feels. And helpless, as well, to your suffering

He pushes you to get help, urging you every single day

He wants to help more. He wants you to just be okay. Why can't you just wake up and not have this problem anymore? Why do you have to be this way?

But he feels like there's nothing else he can do...

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

Safe And Sound

Last Part of Blind and Naive. Also, I promise that this chapter has fluff just to balance out the angst in the previous chapters.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (You Are Here)

TW: Unsympathetic Virgil, Abusive Virgil, Unsympathetic Patton, Abusive Patton, Abused Roman, Abused Logan, Toxic Prinxiety, Toxic Logicality, Anorexia, PTSD symptoms, Fighting, Cursing, Small Panic Attack, Logan Angst, and Roman Angst

If I missed any, please tell me and I will add it.

Pairings: Toxic Prinxiety, Toxic Logicality, Intrulogical, Roceit

Word count: 2142

............Roman’s P.O.V............

I slowly wake up and sit up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the sunlight lighting up the room. After a few minutes of my eyes adjusting and me stretching, I stand up. 

Once I make my way to the kitchen I am greeted by Remus and Janus.

“Good morning Roman.”

“Good morning Romy!!!”

“Good morning guys. And, don’t call me that Waluigi reject,” I smack him on the head gently, which only makes him snicker.

I playfully roll my eyes before turning my attention to Janus, who seems to be making breakfast, “Hey, Snakey McSnakerson.”

Janus looks back at me, “Yesss?”

His small slither makes me blush, though I’m not sure how heavily, which results in me silently hoping he doesn’t notice.

Wait, is he blushing!? N-No... Don’t be ridiculous, you’re just seeing things... Why would he ever like you... Especially considering the fact that you guys have only really mended ways 3 days ago...

“May you please do me the honor of handing me a cup?”

This time, the blush on his face is very clearly there.

He’s blushing? Why? D-Does he actually like me back!?

“Sure, drama queen,” He gets a cup and hands it to me.

I giggle and take it, “Thank you.”

He gives me a warm smile that makes butterflies fill my stomach. I return the smile and for a second we just stare at each other, smiling and blushing.

“Eww! I’m trying to eat, go eye fuck each other somewhere else!” A certain rat breaks the moment.

We both flush red and look away. I clear my throat, “Oh hush.”

I walk over to the water dispenser and fill up my cup. Once it’s full I start walking out of the kitchen, “I’ll be in the living room if you guys need anything.” 

Before I can fully walk out, I feel someone grab my free hand. I turn around and see Remus staring at me worryingly.

I raise a brow, “Yes?”

He bites his lip and quietly mumbles, “Ro... You need to eat breakfast...”

The sentence nearly knocks my breath away, I’m not sure when but I some point I started staring down at my cup. The water inside moving thanks to the shaky hand holding it,

A small, “No...” Makes its ways out of my mouth as I pull my hand free of Remus’ grasp.

I was just about to walk to the living room when Logan blocks the doorway. 

“Roman. You need to eat, especially considering that your Anorexia has been going on for quite a while...”

His voice is soft and sympathetic, one you would imagine coming from Morality instead of Logan.

I sigh heavily, “Fine...” I grumble and sit down.

It feels wrong to eat breakfast... Is this how it’s going to be every morning...? I don't know if I can handle that... I guess one step at the time for now...

............

For the past 7 weeks, Remus and Janus have worked on helping me and Lo. They made sure I ate small meals 5 times a day. They made sure to clear every room of any item I can use to self-harm. They helped me control my perfectionism and the voices in my head. They woke me up and calmed me down from nightmares.

As for Logan, they made sure he didn’t overwork himself. They made sure that he got out of his room to talk and hang out with us ever so often. They helped him be more open about his feeling and ask for help.

It’s been a lot. We’ve been through many highs and low and had to overcome a lot of struggles but things have been looking up.

Virgil and Patton have left us relatively alone, the only time they bother us is during videos or while we’re doing fan service. Patton does it more passive-aggressively while Virgil just outright harasses us. Of course, none of the fandom or Thomas has called them out on their behavior but it doesn’t matter, cause we still have Remus and Janus.

During the 7 weeks, I’ve gotten closer to Remus. We go on missions in the imagination together. We brainstorm and work together during projects. We have movie and game nights together.

My crush for Janus has grown during that time as well. Everything he does make butterfly fill my stomach. His laugh and giggles are like music to my ears. His occasional hisses and snarky smirks make my heart skip a bit. 

Of course, I haven’t confessed to him yet. I just don’t feel ready to get into another relationship, especially since I’m still technically in a relationship with Anxiety.

Logan and Remus also seem to be getting close. I’ve caught both of them exchanging looks and blushing around each other. Both of them deny it anytime Janus or I bring it up though, but I’m certain they’ll get together eventually.

............

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Remus looks at the two of us with a concerned and unsure expression.

Logan is the first to nod, “Yes. We want to completely cut off our connections with Morality and Anxiety.”

“Yeah...” I hug my arm tighter.

Logan and I both agree that we would go to the Lightside and official break up with Patton and Virgil. Originally Logan had suggested we did so after a month of being with the Darksides, however, I disagreed in fear of the fandom’s reaction to our relationships breaking up. Yesterday though, I got fed up with constantly having to do fan service.

“Alright... Just be careful, okay? We’ll be right here for you guys once y’all come back.” Janus says softly.

A small smile appears on my face and I quietly mumble, “Alright. We’ll be right back. 

With that, we both sink down.

............Logan’s P.O.V............

I sink down to the living room of the Lightside, Patton is sitting there on the couch working on some papers. When he notices me, he immediately puts his work down and stands up.

“What are you doing here...?” He sounds nervous and on edge as if I was the abusive one in the relationship.

I take a deep breath, “We’re breaking up,” I get straight to the point, not wanting to be here longer than I have to.

His eyes widen and he doesn’t speak for a while.

“W-what...?” Is all he manages to mutter out

“I said we’re done,” I repeat in a bland voice, “Goodbye Morality.”

I sink down before he can say anything else.

............ 

The second I raise up in my room I crumble to the floor.  

W-why am I so shaken up....? Nothing bad even happened... He didn’t even do anything to me...

I curl up on myself, getting lost in my thoughts. Suddenly, I feel a comforting hand on my back and I turn to my side, coming face-to-face with Remus.

“Hey... You okay...?” His voice is heavy with worry, yet he makes sure it’s soft and soothing.

Before I can even think, I hug him tightly and to my surprise, he immediately holds me close.

He begins whispering reassurance in my ear as he rubs my back. His actions and presence make a lot of my worries quickly start to fade away. 

Soon, I fully calm down, yet I don’t pull away from him. I can feel myself blushing but I don’t care. I just want to be held by him. 

“Hey Lo...?”

I look up at him, “Yes?”

His face is flushed red and uncertain which makes me concerned, but before I can say anything he speaks up again.

“I like you, like a lot!” He quickly blurts out

This catches me off guard and it takes me a while to compose myself.

“I feel the same way, Remus.”

He looks up with a shocked and hopeful face., “Really!?”

I nod and he kisses my cheek, making me blush harder.

“Yay!”

I chuckle softly before letting out a soft yawn, suddenly feeling very exhausted.

He smiles softly and softly says, “Get some rest, Lo.”

I curl up closer to him, nodding a little before quickly falling asleep.

............Roman’s P.O.V............

My heart is basically beating out of my chest as I raise up in the kitchen of the Lightside. Anxiety is there sitting on the counter with his legs crossed, the second his eyes lay on me his face drops and he stands up.

“Oh? So you’ve come crawling back?” He speaks in a condescending voice that makes me immediately look down and lose any confidence I had.

“N-no...” I quickly mutter out.

He glares at me, “What!? Then why are you here!?” His voice raises.

I flinch and take a step back feeling myself begin to shake.

No, remember why you are here. You are done letting him treat you like this. You don’t have to take it.

I take a deep breath before looking up and bluntly saying, “I’m breaking up with you.”

He seems taken aback by this but he quickly recovers.

“No, the fuck you’re not!”

“Yes, I am. I’m not staying with an abusive asshole any longer...”

I go to sink down but before I can do he manages to hit my arm.

“YOU’LL FUCKING REGRET THIS ROMAN! JUST YOU WAIT!” He screams

I quickly sink out before he can do anything more.

............

I raise up in my room crying and shaking, holding my arm that was stinging so badly from the smack Virgil gave me. My breathing quickly becomes short and uneven.

No... No... Not again...!

However, before it can get any worse, Janus’ voice hits my ears.

“Roman, it’s okay,  I’m here. Is it okay if I touch you?”

I nod desperately and I feel him quickly hug me tightly. I hug him back immediately and break down in his arms. 

He holds me close and gently sways us. He starts softly walking me through a breathing exercise. 

After a bit of time, I fully calm down and slowly pull away from the hug.

“Thank you so much, Jan,” I quietly mumble.

He nods, “Hey, Ro, I need to tell you something...”

I raise a brow, a bit on edge from hearing the nervousness in his voice, “Okay, what’s up...?

He takes a deep breath before softly saying, “I’ve had a crush on you for a while now and well I was wondering if you felt the same way?” 

He looks down nervously, blushing heavily and I can’t help but let a fond smile plaster my face.

I gently kiss his cheek, “Well, lucky for you, I do feel the same way.”

For a few seconds, he’s completely frozen. Once he collects himself he hugs me tightly.

“Oh, thank god! I was so nervous you were going to say you didn’t like me at all!”

I giggle softly and hug him back.

A few seconds later though I let out a soft sigh, “But Jan...”

He looks at me, worryingly, “Yeah..?”

“I-I’m not ready to get back into a relationship just yet... I-Is it okay if we wait for a little...?”

He visibly relaxes and holds me closer. 

“It’s okay, Ro. I understand we can wait for as long as we need to.”

I gently nuzzle him and smile brightly, “Thanks Jan.” 

............Janus’ P.O.V...........

I look down at the sleeping prince next to me, gently running a hand through his hair. Remus and I were both in my room. Remus was on my bean bag with a sleeping Logan on his lap while I was on the bed with Roman.

“Jan?” 

I look up and Remus, who’s holding Logan as close as he could to his chest. His face is strange. It’s warm and soft yet there’s a hint of concern and anxiousness in it. His voice was hushed and somewhat sad.

“Yes?”I keep my voice soft and calming.

He takes a small deep breath, “What now...?”

Remus and I have been friends ever since Creativity split. We’ve been through everything together. We were both banished to the Darkside together. We both welcomed and raised Paranoia. We dealt with Paranoia’s short temper and screams. We both had to learn to heal after he abandoned and betrayed us.

Yet, in all does years of being with him. I’ve never heard his voice be so unsure and lost when he asked that simple question.

A put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and speak in the same voice as before, “Hey, it will be okay. All we can do now is continue to help and protect Logan and Roman to the best of our abilities.

He visibly relaxes and smiles softly. He glances down at Logan for a few seconds before answering me.

“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Double D.”

I smile and nod, “No problem. Now, let’s get some rest.

He nods and we both go to sleep shortly after.

............

Finally finished this! So, yeah, this is the final part of this small trilogy. I’m planning on writing a Roloceit fanfic next. Who knows? If you have any suggestions on what I should write next, feel free to tell me, I’ll do anything except for a Virgil centered fanfic or Unsympathetic Roman.

Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed.

@anti-virgil  @romanvirgil  @yeet-ceit  @nachosforfree  @unsympathetic-virgil @sanders-sides-soap-box   @virgil-negativity  @a-gay-angel @potatsanderssides  @sapphire-knight  @a-small-snidget  @easterpop-reblogs @nostarsinthedark  @itriedandimtired @anti-patton  

[my-darling-boy]

Oh no no, I meant when you were commenting on that back thing a while ago where you mentioned that you weren't working out much but it was probably something you were eating, that's why I was confused because I never heard of it before.

Oooh gotcha! So, I’ll be honest, I’ve suffered from anorexia for about 5 years—recovery has been on and off, so I still do struggle with it—it messed up a lot of my digestive system and gave me a really sensitive stomach. Eating anything that has a bit high sugar or oil, among other certain types of foods, will make me physically ill now, which means I have to avoid those things or I’ll get sick, which incidentally ends up keeping me the size I am. I also have to only eat portion sizes that are meant for me (which to other people can look like very little food). So I’m actually stuck eating foods like nuts/berries, veggies, fruits, chicken, fish, etc not all because I want to, but now because I have to cos the anorexia wreaked so much havoc on my body when I was at my lowest point. And not only that, but my metabolism on T kicked into Maxium Overdrive (which is why you get hot on T) so that also makes me stay the way I am.

Cos it is delicate subject and I don’t want to push my own food choices on other people (as everyone is different), I’ll say that for me the foods that helped me feel more energized and in good spirits were meals that had a lot of colour to them, were bright and natural, or where unprocessed, non gmo, without a lot of additives, or were organic. And even when I bake cakes and such, I avoid ingredients that are artificial or ones that may have chemical additives.

I love natural peanut butter and nuts in general which for me is good protein since I can’t always handle red meat or pork, but fish and chicken I love, salmon is my fave! I like KIND granola bars, I fucking love orange juice, mango yogurt popsicles, bananas, rice with veggies, I eat honey every day which is good for immune health, and I really do genuinely enjoy salads and greens in general, or adding micro greens and veggies on top of burgers if we make them, and I make a really good copycat Panera autumn soup! I also love just...peeling a carrot and eating it whole. And of course I bake, my sister and I did that cake and chocolate chip cookies recently :P

My best advice, if you’re looking for some different food choices while on T: stay away from the diets you see online, they will make you sick, and that’s not fun while on T. Be very careful with the “”healthy food”” or even workout advice people—even other trans people—are giving out cos it’s not made for everyone. I’ve come across A TON of bogus health foods claims, biased exercise tips, “avoid this-avoid that” advice within the community. Honestly, just do what you think it best for you!

[isa-ly]

THE TRUTH UNTOLD

TW: mental illness, eating disorders, depression, anxiety

I know the title might be a fun little hint to a certain k-pop song (which is a reference about three people will understand) but despite that little quirky pun, this post I’m about to write and that you’re about to read, is not gonna be easy. Or witty, or funny like some of the previous posts were. It’s most definitely going to be the longest one, though.

Because, in all honesty, this is the one post I have been absolutely dreading to make. However, it’s also the post that I kind of started this blog for because, unlike my depression, anxiety, panic attacks, insomnia and quarter-life crisis, this is something only my closer circle and those who happened to ask, really know about. 

And, once again in all honesty, this is the actual reason I started therapy almost a year ago. Because in every way possible, shit had hit the fan so hard that there had been nothing left but to step on the emergency breaks. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself here. So, let’s try and start from the beginning.

I’ve talked about my more or less mental breakdown and burn out during my last year of university a few times now. Didn’t spare any details either. However, there is one thing that I’ve been mindfully avoiding that actually took up a pretty big part of that time of my life. The reason I avoided it, was because in my head, I kept running in circles on how I would phrase it and explain it in a way that would a) not sound too shocking and b) not make me look like a complete stranger to people who, until now, had no idea of what I’m about to say.

Eventually, though, I realized that I was doing the exact same thing I’ve always been doing. Which was searching for excuses to not talk about the biggest struggle in my life and make myself vulnerable. And I don’t want to make these excuses anymore because, really, all they ever did was harm me. So, here goes nothing.

Hello. My name is Isa. And for over a year now, I have been suffering from an eating disorder called anorexia nervosa.

The sheer act of just having typed this sentence out on virtual paper, threw me so hard that I spent a good 15 minutes simply staring at my laptop screen just now. I told you, this wasn’t going to be easy. 

Since the only place I’m really “promoting” this blog on is Instagram, I’m just going to try and somehow use that as a segue to this post. Over the last year, I’ve received quite a few messages from friends, family and sometimes also random acquaintances, whenever I posted a picture of myself on my story or feed. Some of them were jokey, some of them interested and a very select few were concerned, too. All of them were about my apparent change of appearance, however. Of course, I didn’t only receive those messages online. The people who know and see me in real life, the above mentioned inner circle, have known for a while and some of them, as much as I wish they hadn’t had to, saw all of it happen in real life.

I know I included it in the trigger warnings already, but I want to point it out one more time here because I know how incredibly triggering these things can be – especially to people who have struggled or are struggling with similar issues. So, if reading about body image, dieting, weight loss and eating disorders makes you uncomfortable or could trigger bad memories and behaviour, this post might not be the one for you. I don’t want to be patronizing, you know what’s best for you, just wanted to make sure to highlight it before I continued.

I also want to preface this by saying that I can and only will talk about my own experience here. I am in no way, shape or form an expert on mental health and eating disorders and what I’m going to say and talk about, is purely a narration of what happened in my own life. Eating disorders, just like any other mental illness, are very individual and I do not want to come off as blurting out generalizations about them. Just so that we’re clear here.

Therapy taught me that the psychological, biological and/or societal origin of eating disorders is still almost completely scientifically unknown. It is for that exact reason, that the various EDs are some of the most stereotyped and stigmatized mental illnesses there are – which is also why it took me so long to actually pluck up the courage and energy to talk about it. I imagined people reading about my anorexia and thinking: “Oh, I bet it’s because she was bullied for her weight when she was a kid”, or: “Well, just another one of those girls who wanted to be skinnier”. Possibly also: “I never would have thought that someone like her would end up with an eating disorder. She always seemed so confident!”

So, to combat the fear of coming off like a cliché or sob story, I knew simply had to tell my whole and honest story. Because even if I’m worried about being put in a box or labelled as something I’m not, it still happened. And it’s still my story. And to move on from it, or better, with it, I have to tell it. And I have to tell it right. 

So, here it goes.

Ever since I can remember, I have disliked my body. Growing up as a Human Person™ in this society, I realize that’s not really something that makes me stand out (which, if you think about it, is actually incredibly fucking sad). Apart from my own self, however, no one ever really shamed for the way that I looked and I was also never bullied or teased by others because of it. So, that’s a no for the “Oh, I bet it’s because she was bullied for her weight when she was a kid”-stereotype. It makes me want to gauge the patriarchal beauty standard’s eyes out, to think that never actively having been shamed for my body or weight, is something that I can consider a “privilege” in this world. I’m aware that a lot of kids and adults don’t have that twisted privilege, which, again, just makes me want to set the world of body ideals on fire, but I don’t want to diverge too much from the point of this post. 

Remember that society I was talking about? Yeah, with that around, having someone point out or shame you for how your body looks different from what’s considered the ideal, isn’t really something that’s necessary in order for you to still notice it and develop massive insecurities. So, even though I was “lucky” and “privileged” enough to have avoided being bullied for my body by real-life people, I still grew up not liking the way I looked, always noticing that my stomach, my thighs, my arms, my boobs, my butt, were different to those of the girls everyone called pretty. Which inevitably led to me harbouring a contained, yet undeniably significant amount of self-hatred for the way my body looked over time.

Now, I might have been one of many body-conscious teenagers, but, in quite stark contrast to that, I was also a seemingly self-confident one. Or at least I really, really wanted to be. It’s what everyone always told me I came across as. The loud, opinionated and self-assured girl, who didn’t care what people thought of her. Maybe that was to compensate for my own insecurities, maybe it was for protection, or maybe it was also because I just knew, or hoped, it was the right way to go. I believed and preached that how I looked, what I weighed and what I ate didn’t matter, both to myself and to all of my friends and family. I knew I was absolutely fine the way that I was, as long as I was physically and mentally healthy. I’ve always known that, and I fully believe in it too. And yet, here I am. About to tell you what both you and me are already suspecting: The story of how that knowledge didn’t end up protecting me as well as I thought it would.

Despite me always having believed in not giving a shit about beauty standards, ideal body types and the obsession with whatever the fuck “skinny”, “slim thick” and “lean” are supposed to be, it undeniably had an effect on me. Just like it has an effect on literally every other person, regardless of gender or age. It’s pretty much passed onto us the minute we’re born, like a part of our literal DNA. It makes me sick to my very core, but I always knew that this insecurity, no matter how much I knew it shouldn’t have ever been one and no matter how much I fought to stand above it, was woven into the very fabric of my being. The very minute we learn to interact with others and the world around us, the clear, limited and completely unrealistic image of how we’re supposed to look in order to meet societal expectations, is indoctrinated into our innocent brains – consciously, subconsciously and in literally every other way possible.

I don’t want to give a lecture on how society, media, and peers make us believe it’s necessary and right to chase bodies that, realistically, no one can ever outrun, but I felt like saying at least this much about it to set the base for what’s about to come. Certainly, this almost innate, underlying dislike for my body – or most parts of it – wasn’t the sole reason for developing an eating disorder in my early twenties. But it was most definitely a cruel predisposition that played a big part in how my anorexia unfolded and the leverage it had and still has on me.

I mentioned in the beginning how, despite it being one of the most common mental health disorders, there’s barely any scientific explanations as to how eating disorders really come to be. Which is why assuming that being unhappy with my body and the way it looked was the only reason I slipped into disordered eating, would simply be false. After all, I lived twenty-one years of my life being more or less fine with it. It was an insecurity, yes, but it didn’t dictate my every day life, it didn’t influence how I lived it. So, the “Well, just another one of those girls who wanted to be skinnier”-stereotype, doesn’t really prove to be fully true either.

Which leaves the last assumption: “I never would have thought that someone like her would end up with an eating disorder. She always seemed so confident!”

To which I can only say: Yeah, uh ... same? I mean, do you really think there’s anyone who found themselves developing an eating disorder only to think: “Oh, yeah, that makes sense, I always knew I’d end up like that!” Sorry, that was a bit dark. I know that this assumption is something that mostly I myself am worried about and that there’s no reason for me to actually get defensive. However, while most reactions to me talking about my eating disorder have been very comforting and caring, I’ve also had a few quite unpleasant experiences and well, those tend to have the harsher impact. So, please forgive my mildly cynical reasoning here.

Right, then. If I didn’t ever get bullied for my body or weight, didn’t just want to “be skinny” and really am that confident – how did this happen?

Well, I’ve already given part of the explanation just now, when I told you about my unfortunate predisposition of never really having fully loved or accepted my body. The other part of the explanation, lies in pretty much every other post I have written so far. Most of all the latest one: Control.

It was a real challenge to have written that last entry without ever mentioning my anorexia with even one word. Because really, for me personally, control is literally all it ever was and will be about. My therapist told me that it’s quite common in other eating disordered people too. But again, I’m not here to talk about anyone else, I’m here to talk about my own experience. And it starts just like I said in my last post: With losing control. And in many ways, the combination of always having disliked my body and suddenly having slithered into a massive life-crisis where I felt like I had lost all power and control over everything, was the very dangerous mixture that started it all. 

I don’t want to make it about that too much, but it’s still worth mentioning that after my semester abroad, which had ended in January of 2018, I had gained some weight. Weight that, having changed up my diet a few years prior, I had actually lost and that all of a sudden, was now back on again. It had just been a very wonderful yet also stressful time abroad and well, heaps of uni work, very little sleep and the general student lifestyle, just caused me to pile on a few kilos. The part of me that genuinely never gave a fuck about body standards, once again did genuinely not give a fuck about that. And yeah, when I came back, there were the occasional family remarks of “Look at you, gained quite a bit of weight there, didn’t you?” (which I know are made with no malicious intent, by the way, but, forgive me if I say this: just shut up) and I had also obviously started noticing that none of my old clothes fit anymore and I did indeed look a lot larger than in any of my older pictures. Was that a blow to my self-built confidence because we live in a society that rewards weight loss and punishes weight gain? Sure. Was that when I developed anorexia? Nope.

Because, if you’ve been following the timeline of my mental health issues that I have oh so passionately been crafting in the last few posts, it wasn’t until autumn of 2018 that I first started struggling with my back then still undiscovered control issues, which lead to my anxiety, depression, insomnia and – now that I’m telling my whole story – my eating disorder. Or, to be fully correct, disordered eating, back then. Because just like the rest of my mental health issues, this too, crept up on me slowly at first.

I remember the first time I had this very simple thought. At least, it felt simple. Simple, but so deeply wrong and dangerous. And yet once I had had it, it wouldn’t leave anymore. It should have rang all the alarm bells in my head. It really should have. But I understand now, that the reason I had this very simple, deeply wrong and dangerous thought, was because I was desperate to control something, anything at all. Regain power over just one part of my life, whatever that might be.

So, that thought kept coming back. Over and over again:

What if I just stopped eating?

I would snap out of it and tell myself: “What the fuck, Isa? That’s ridiculous. Also, what does that even mean, are you crazy? You love food, you love eating it and you need it to survive.” And I’d ignore it again. But it would come back. Every now and then, usually in the moments where I felt worst about myself, it would echo stronger in my own head and ignoring it would become harder and harder. It was a thought so insane and so ridiculous, I told nobody about it. My rational mind knew that it was totally stupid to even consider something like that, and so I felt stupid for doing it. Which is why talking about it was off the table for me, back then. It was my dirty, little, silly secret and I was going to keep it that way. 

I was smarter than that, I knew better than that. 

It didn’t change the fact that I felt so lost in university though, and even more lost in life, and so that shitty thought just wouldn’t leave me alone. Until eventually, I budged. And that’s the part where it really stops being witty and smart-assy. 

Because that’s the part where I made the decision to only eat once a day. And it was a decision that I fought for with an iron will. A decision that gave me control. Over all the wrong things.

I said I would tell my whole and honest story, but in case you were wondering: No, I’m not gonna give any numbers, not when it comes to weight and not when it comes to calories. Mainly because the only thing they do is create competition and shock value. Even to people who don’t struggle with eating disorders. And apart from that, they’re also triggering to me, even if it’s my own story. So, all I’ll say is that I limited myself to one meal a day. For an entire year. It didn’t always work, thank God for that in hindsight. But I tried to do it every day nonetheless, and even though it wasn’t a by-the-books eating disorder yet (which is a whole other rant I have but that’s not for now), it completely ruined my relationship with food, my body image and my own self-worth. 

Every time I ate, I would feel guilty, it made me feel like a failure. I had never experienced this kind of shame before, the idea of feeling accomplished whenever I managed to go without eating for almost an entire day. It was this sick sense of pride and, you guessed it: Control. And yet it wasn’t enough, because my body would obviously fight back, demanding food with every bit of power and rage it had over me. I felt awful. On top of university stress, panic attacks, anxiety, depression and insomnia, I was now also hungry almost all the time. And when I had my one meal a day, I wouldn’t enjoy it. I would simply gorge on it because I was so depleted and ravenous. And then I would feel guilty and hate myself for it.

This went on for many months. I hid it as best as I could and in most social situations, I would make exceptions so that people wouldn’t notice. Exceptions I would hate myself for, but they had to be made to keep this habit my aforementioned dirty, little secret. It was like an entire new personality was starting to form inside my own. A dark and hateful one that chipped away at all that confidence and rational I had built over the years. A few close friends suspected eventually that something was off, and some of them asked about it but I would immediately play it off as just not feeling well because of all my other mental struggles, the ones they already knew about. It was an excuse that made sense, so no one really dug any deeper. And I couldn’t really have given another explanation back then anyway. Because again, I didn’t know yet why any of this was happening. I didn’t know that not eating was a twisted and horrible coping mechanism, that I had developed to gain back some sense of control in my life.

At that point, I had started weighing myself too. Something that had given me a big, bad shock when I first saw the number on the scale. In my mind, it was big and bad too. I knew how much I had weighed pre-semester-abroad. And so I knew how much I must have gained and by now also lost again. And yet that number was still way too big. It crushed me. And sadly, only spurred me on more. I would try not to eat. I would “fail”. I would hate myself. Rinse and repeat.

And no one knew what was going on. Least of all me.

It got a little bit better over the summer of 2019, just like the rest of my mental health did. That was around the time I had finally made the decision to take a gap year and figure out all my issues. And that included the very bad eating habits I had developed over the last year. In a way, that decision was also a way of me gaining back control, which was presumably why all my other bad coping strategies, including the not eating, faded away a little. No more nightly panic attacks. No more insomnia. And a lot more breakfast, lunch and dinner. I still didn’t like my body, I was still scared of the number on the scale. But I was ready to turn my life around again, get therapy and fight that nasty, dangerous habit I had let myself fall into.

Unfortunately, as I already mentioned in previous posts, the therapy I was so clearly in desperate need of, didn’t work out as quickly as I had wished (again, thanks for that, health care system). I had gone to my first ever assessment where they had diagnosed me with anxiety and depression disorder. And, actually, the psychiatrist that I had had my first ever session with, had also decided to diagnose me with anorexia nervosa because according to her, while I hadn’t ticked all of the eating disorder boxes yet, I definitely did show signs of eating disordered and anorexic behaviour. To me, that had sounded quite ridiculous and harsh at the time. Anorexia? Pft, no way, I didn’t look like the girls from the shocking posters and depressing documentaries, it was no where as serious as that. (Tip of the hat to those stigmas and stereotypes I was talking about earlier)

But of course, she was right. However, they didn’t have a free spot for one on one therapy and group sessions weren’t really what I was looking for either. So, I went on a waiting list and never heard back from them again.

The cold season crept back in and the wonderful, warm and sunny-safe bubble I had lived in all summer, burst as quickly as it had been blown into existence. Everyone went back to work, back to uni, back to life. And I ... well, I went back to being lost. To not knowing what to do. To having to write my thesis I still couldn’t write for some reason. To having panic attacks. To having insomnia.

To not eating.

Only that after a year of being so miserable whenever I ate food and still feeling so awful in my own body, I decided I would have to change the way I was going about it. In my extremely mentally fragile mind, I thought I had to step it up if I really wanted results. And, as I like to say it, that’s when shit really hit the fan. In a way, it felt like I had spent an entire year sitting on a roller coaster ride that was slowly climbing up the incline, getting closer and closer to the inevitable drop. And just like on any actual roller coaster, when that drop came, it came fast.

It was no longer about just eating one and any meal a day. In the matter of a week or two, it became about numbers, calories, measurements, grams, milliliters. All of a sudden, I found myself meticulously writing down every single thing I ate and when I had eaten it. The food groups kept shrinking and so did my portions and the amount of calories I would consume in a day. I would set a new limit on Monday and decrease it again by Wednesday, pushing myself harder, restricting more and more with every week. All I could think about was food. And all I could do was not eat it. In what felt like a matter of seconds, a worry, a fear, a habit had turned into a full-fledged obsession. An addiction. And that’s when anorexia entered my life.

I’ve re-written this part over and over again because I’m desperately trying not to make it sound like a pseudo-romantic and tastelessly dramatic young adult novel. But I realize that’s just my fear of sounding like a cliché again. So, I’ll stop scratching and writing everything anew now, and just keep going.

In the first few days and weeks of crashing into this new, horrible world, I remember yet again thinking another very simple, yet dangerous and devastating thought. The one beside “What if I just stopped eating?”. And this thought, to me personally, was even scarier than the last one. 

It was the thought of: “What if I can never eat again?”

Because that’s exactly what anorexia felt like to me.

Many people describe it as a whole other person in their head. Almost like a foreign entity, taking over your life. And while I very strongly relate to these descriptions, I have learned that it’s best for me to not always manifest my eating disorder into a separate identity to my own, because in certain times, that gives it too much power and makes it seem undefeatable. Which it isn’t. So, I’m going to try and describe it in another way. The way I first described it to my therapist. With a metaphor, of course.

It felt like up until this point, I had been sitting in the car that was my own life, driving down the road of my present and future, looking in the rear view mirror at my past. I was the one with the foot on the gas and the breaks, I was the one that decided what turn or exit to take. Autumn of 2018 had felt like breaking down in that car, having to pull over and being lost in the middle of nowhere, without any signs to guide the way. My bad eating habits felt like someone stopping and pretending to help me, jump staring my car and having it tucker slowly again while following me at walking speed, with me still not really knowing where I was going. And finally, anorexia felt like that someone kicking me out of my car, buckling me into the passenger seat, taping my mouth shut and taking over the stirring wheel.

All of a sudden, it felt like I had no say in where I was heading, how fast I was driving or what road I was going down. For over a year, I had used this dangerous and awful habit of coping by not eating, to wield control and have power over something. And now, it had taken that power away again, like a pact with the god damn devil, and had started to use it over me instead. Which is exactly what eating disorders do, and what my anorexia did too. They give you a false sense of control because control is all you want, and yet all you can’t have. All you need to do is replace control with food. Because food is all you want, and yet all you can’t have. Anorexia gave me my own, fucked up metaphor for my control issues. 

I knew that what I was doing was more than just dangerous. It was no longer just trying to eat once a day, not managing to and then hating myself. This was barely eating anything at all, setting the bar lower each day and starving myself. And not in the figurative way. I lost weight so rapidly, I could barely keep track. The scale became my second home, the calories my worst enemy and food, or more trying to avoid it, the entire purpose of my life. Nothing else mattered anymore. 

Falling into anorexia has been the scariest and most horrible thing I have ever had to go through. It felt like I had lost myself. I was still there, in my own head, somewhere. Still strapped into the passenger seat. But I had no say in any of my actions. I just silently watched and witnessed, obeying everything my eating disorder told me to do. I know I said I usually avoid completely painting it as a separate person in my own head, but back then, back when I was still severely anorexic, that was just what it felt like. Like a literal parasite, that had latched onto me and was sucking me dry of any and every life force and fight I still had left.

All my days would consist of trying to navigate around food, doing my best to avoid it, lying to everyone, most of all myself. I would look up every single nutritional information of everything, every meal at a restaurant, every drink. I had lists where I wrote it all down, tracking my calorie intake and weight loss. Documents that contained all the calories from every single food and also non-food item imaginable. It would start with things like fruits, vegetables and condiments and end with things like tea, vitamins, chewing gum and toothpaste. I would google how many calories a panic attack burned. I would pace up and down my room at night to get my step count higher. I would walk around the city aimlessly for hours every single day to avoid eating, no matter the weather, no matter the time. I would work out at the gym like a maniac and almost pass out every single time afterwards. At family breakfast, I would hide food in my sleeves and socks to avoid eating it. It was more than just ridiculous. It was insanity. But it was an insanity I couldn’t let go of.

Anorexia was the most twisted and horrendous full-time commitment of my life. I had felt lost and without purpose for so long and in the most fucked up way, my eating disorder had given me a 9-to-5 – no, scratch that, a 24-god-damn-7 job to do. It had given me a new purpose and a painful illusion of the things I had craved for so long. Control, willpower, strength, endurance. Only that it was exactly that – just an illusion. Because at the end of the day, I would go to bed empty, both literally and figuratively, feeling nothing and hating everything. Because that’s what anorexia does. It strips you of everything you have in life. It takes away every joy, every pleasure, every interest, hobby, passion or relationship, and it isolates you. Completely. It worms its way into your life and fills out every single nook and crack until it’s the only thing that seems to be left. And therefore, the only thing you still care about. 

It felt like losing my complete identity.

Mentally, I was at the worst state I had ever been in my life. This was around December of 2019. I had barely been keeping all of this up for over a month, but I was eating so little that I had lost an alarmingly large amount of weight very fast, which came at a high cost. I was always cold, I couldn’t sleep, I had awful headaches, I kept forgetting conversations and talks I had had with friends, I felt dizzy and nauseous all the time and worst of all, I was so cripplingly depressed that I didn’t even care about any of that. Because when you deprive your brain of nutrients this much, it just shuts down. And that’s what I did, too. I just went into standby mode, as I kept losing more weight and becoming more miserable with each day that passed.

Both my body and mind were running on nothing but adrenaline and thin air and I lived life in this absolutely isolated and horrible auto-pilot, where I continued on as if nothing was happening, as more of me, both physically and mentally, disappeared and was replaced with complete emptiness. I still struggle to find the right words to describe how I felt back then. The only thing that comes close is just complete nothingness. Like a fucking black hole inside of me that had swallowed everything and created a complete vacuum.

Writing about this makes me want to just close my laptop and stop. In a way, it feels like giving my eating disorder and the hardest time of my life a spot light. Like giving it attention and a stage to perform on, to flaunt its dramatic tragedy. I can feel that the anorexia loves that, relishes every word I’m typing about it, every second of attention I’m giving to it. And hate that, I fucking despise it. Because it doesn’t deserve its own stage. It never did and it never will. So, let’s try and move on to the part where things changed.

Back then, I might have become a master of lying and avoiding most people’s questions about me never seeming to be hungry or wanting to eat. But thankfully, there were a few of my close friends that had started to notice. Not gonna name any names, but you know who you are. And I cannot even begin to say how incredibly thankful and lucky I am to have had you there. Because even when I had given up on myself, you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, oh no. I was still in a very, very bad place mentally, and my eating disorder was not planning on leaving any time soon.

But, with the help and intervention of said good friends and a few select, eye-opening experiences (that I won’t talk about because they really weren’t ideal but still ended up helping somehow), I finally realized the very obvious but up until then seemingly impossible thing: I had to start eating again. And I had to start now. 

And I did.

Looking back, I cannot even express how glad I am about that. Because it had started to become really critical. And I consider myself to be very lucky that it didn’t have to get even worse. That I was still able to make my own decisions and finally get help. Finding therapy was once again not easy but eventually, I did find an outpatient clinic that offered immediate consultation, as well as an appointment with a psychiatrist for medication and an internist for physical check-ups. And, to maybe bring back a slight sense of cheerfulness: It was also when I finally got to meet my therapist Kerstin.

Again, none of this was as easy and swift as it might sound like with me narrating it in those few sentences, but this post can only go on for so much longer before I get too drained and decide to just delete all of it again, so I will try and come to a close, for now. There’s still so much more to tell when it comes to my journey with my eating disorder and my mental health, because it’s nowhere near finished. And worry not, I will tell it – not so much for the sake of those of you who read it, but more so for my own. But for now, I want to finish by saying this much – mainly to myself again, but also to anyone else who might need to hear it: 

I know it might feel like you don’t care. 

About yourself, about what happens to you, about the future, about happiness. I know it might feel like you’re faking everything, lying to everyone and just pretending all the time. I know you might feel so horribly and painfully empty that all you want to do is sit still in the void of your own head and let the misery wash over you in dreadful peace. I know you might think that the only sense of comfort you can find, lies in the things that hurt you most. I know your pain seems like an old friend, one that will never leave you and therefore is worth staying close to. I know that continuing to fight on and struggling through life and all the hardships it throws at you, sometimes feels so impossible, that it seems easier to just give in and give up. 

The thing about that is, though: It’s fucking bullshit.

It’s nothing but a very mean and disgusting way of all your inner pain, trauma and warped coping mechanisms to try to pull you down to keep you “safe” from things that you can absolutely, completely and totally battle. And, yeah, it sure as shit ain’t easy. God, if I had a dollar for every time I had to pick myself back up after I stepped on a scale, after I ate something that scared me, after I looked in the mirror, after I relapsed, after I went back on track again, after I wished I could just melt into a formless blob and slowly whither away in peace– I would be a rich woman. But neither life nor capitalism work that way, unfortunately. So, why do I still bother? 

Well, because after going through hell and back, it’s the only thing I have left. It’s the only option there is.

You might not know who you are. You might not know what you’re doing, where you’re going, if you’re ever going to get better, if you’ll ever feel happy and at home in your own mind, body and life again. But what you can and should know, is that you can always try. Even if it seems pointless, even if it seems like you’re running in circles, wanting to bash your head against the wall because of how senseless it all feels. 

You can still try. 

And try, and try, and try again. It’s a choice and it is a hard one. Maybe the hardest one you will ever have to make. 

But I chose to make it, and I still continue to. Every day. With every morning I wake up, every therapy session I go to, every panic attack I breathe through, every depressive phase I crawl back out of, every meal I eat. I choose to do it, I choose to keep pushing because when it feels like all the bad and dark thoughts are more powerful than me and threaten to swallow me alive, making the choice to fight back as much as I can, is what proves that I am and always will be more powerful than them. 

Because this is my life. My body. My head. My brain. My mind. And I’d be a god damn fool to give them up to those inner demons that would never know how to treat them right, how to cherish them and keep them happy, healthy and alive. Because I think we can all agree that, at the end of the day, being happy is a hell of a lot better than being sad and empty. And so, at the end of the day, I realized that nothing and no one, not even my mental health disorders and past traumas, can take away what will always, exclusively and fully belong to me and me only: 

My choice, my happiness, my control – the right one, this time.

[tsarinastorm]

Until Somebody Stops Having Fun-Adam Sackler/Reader-Part 3

Adam’s tongue explores your mouth as his hands grip your hips, though one soon slides down and around to slap your ass. You wiggle into him in response. You kiss a path down his neck to his collarbones and you become aware of his cock, now hardened, bumping into your stomach. When you lift your face to look at him, in one quick motion he’s pressing you against the wall of the shower with his mouth on yours, and his hips grinding into you. As he moves down your neck, he sucks a love bite on your pulse point, and when you slap him to punish him, he just says, “Now everyone will know you’re mine. I just couldn’t let you shower by yourself.”

“Oh I am sure you had completely pure intentions.” You tease and he responds against your chest as his head moves down your body, “Hmmm…well maybe I just wanted to fuck you in here too.”

           Then his lips are kissing your tits as his tongue draws line on your right one. His hand squeezes and kneads your left breast. He knows how to work your body like a master. He’s only touching your tits and you’re practically writhing under hands. His lips find your nipple and rolls his tongue over it before sucking lightly. Then, he kisses down your stomach then stops before getting to your mound. The anticipation is killing you, and he further adds to it by kneeling in front of you, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. Your hands go straight to hair like always, and kisses the inside of your thigh then agonizingly slowly rolling your labia between his lips.

           You’re not in a patient mood so you begin bucking your hips against him. His hands snake around your waist to hold you in place. You groan in frustration and he seems to enjoy your torture because he looks at you and says, “Is something wrong, doll?”

           “You know exactly what is wrong, asshat.” He smirks at you then nuzzles in against your clit but he doesn’t add any pressure. You try to not to think about how much water you’re wasting and when you’re thinking he’s not to give into you his tongue on your clit. His tongue draws circle on your nub, strokes it up and down, then left to right. Then, he thrusts two of his wide fingers in your entrance and sucks on your clit at the same time. It only takes seconds of that until your orgasm builds and washes over you. You moan as your legs get shaky and euphoria go through you. Adam then stands and tells you, “Good thing you’re in the shower, you’re a dirty whore for my cock.”

           You reach down to stroke him, and run your thumb over his sensitive tip. Fuck you need him inside now. You tell him, “I am a dirty whore only for your cock. I can’t stop thinking about good it will feel inside of me.”

           “I knew you wanted my cock from the moment I met you,” he says as his hands removes yours and he moves over you. Your back is flush against the shower wall and you hike your left leg up on the side of the tub to give him access. He takes the hint, burying his face in your neck as he buries his cock in your pussy. You’ll never get over the feeling of how he feels inside of you: always stretching you. He rocks into you slowly and as his blackened eyes meet yours he barks out,

           “So fucking tight. Like a fucking virgin cunt, squeezing my cock.” Adam picks up the pace, building a rhythm. You wrap your arms onto his shoulders and move your leg from the edge of the tub to hitch it around his waist. Deciding to goad him on, you say, “Well maybe you need to fuck me harder.”

           “Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you, you dirty slut,” he says as he drills into even harder and faster. The position and the intensity is sending shocks through your clit. He continues the brutal pace but you can tell from the way he’s moaning that he’s getting closer to cumming.

           “I fuck you every day and still your cunt is tight,” he continues spewing, but you don’t respond, instead you take your right hand to your clit. While your right hand vigorously rubs circles on your clit, your left hand digs your nails into Adam’s back. Your orgasm rocks through you, and spurs on Adam’s. He pulls out and quickly beats his cock and cums with a long moan, leaving strings of cum on your chest.

           He’s grinning like a little kid, then he rushes ahead of you to get back under the water. You shout, “That’s not fair! I can’t go around with your cum on me all day!”

           “Why not? I think it looks good on you,” He lets out a hearty laugh.

           Soon he subsides and lets you finish washing yourself off. Once you’re semi dressed and getting ready to go, he hands you a cup of coffee made to your preference. Then, he hands you a boxed pastry from a bakery. You raise your eyebrows inquisitively at him and are about to ask where he got it from when he starts rambling.

           “I got it for you yesterday since I knew you’d probably stay the night. I wanted you to have something you like for breakfast.” He admits and he looks shyer than you’ve ever seen him before. It’s adorable and flattering that he put thought into it, and was thinking about your comfort. He was too sweet, too good for you. You reach up to put your arm around his torso and give him a peck on the cheek. He settles into the chair and you can’t resist going over to sit on his lap.

           The two are supposed to be just friends with benefits but this feels particularly intimate. It feels right, as if the two of you are supposed to be settled into this domestic routine. Right on cue, he nuzzles into your neck, and you run your hands through his hair and nuzzle him back. You’re such a goner, but you know relationships never work and you’d wind up heartbroken again. As you eat your pastry and drink your coffee, you notice that he’s only eating a banana, you know he’s a picky eater but you can’t help but comment.

           “I guarantee that I am enjoying my breakfast more, is that all you eat?” You tease and he responds with, “Better than all of that added sugar and fats in that. That’s bad shit to put in your body.”

           Not sure what to make of that comment, you gather your things and head out of the day. You had struggled with an eating disorder in various degrees of severity since you were a teenager. It was at its peak during your undergrad years and you’re lucky that you were able to get treatment and recover. But it was still a daily struggle and you could be triggered by random things that no one else would think about. You could never weigh yourself because that was a trigger and you were able to fight the urges with regular exercise and a semi-healthy diet. Of course, you still had your weekly therapy appointments. Adam didn’t know any of this, you had kept it from him because it was hard to talk about.

           You know that Adam didn’t mean anything by his comments but your eating disorder brain was misinterpreting it. Your mind started reeling thinking of a way to counteract the calories from breakfast. You continue on your day with your mind racing.

***

           You had shut off your phone and not responded to any messages. Now, you had an outrageous number of voicemails and texts from Adam wanting to check on you. You were busy with work and your anorexia was slowly creeping back again. You had been spending twice as much time exercising and had drastically cut back your total calories. What you’d forgot was how it felt in your brain: a mixture of exhaustion and being ultra-focused. It was a strange mix and you liked to shut yourself off when it happened.

           It had only been three days since the incident with Adam and you were surprised that he hadn’t showed up at your apartment to check in on you. You were both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because you were in over your head for Adam and thought he cared for you too. But relieved because then you wouldn’t have to tell him about your past mental health struggles.

           Walking into your apartment, Benji and Barney greet you, ready for their walk. You take them for a walk that’s double the usual, and when you’re almost back to your apartment, you hear a voice calling your name.

           “Y/N! Y/N!” you turn around to see Adam running towards you. Of course, your dogs were happy to see him with their tails wagging, they begin their infamous beagle howls. Adam stops when he’s standing right in front of you, he places his hands on your shoulders and looks frantic.

           “What the hell is going on?! I haven’t heard from you at all for days. I thought you fucking died, kid.”

           “I’ve been busy.” You say, now feeling embarrassed. You decide to keep walking and he easily catches up with you, damn his long legs. He asks, “You’ve been busy? You know I can tell that’s a fucking lie.”

           This time you don’t respond, instead you head into your apartment and Adam’s still following you. Once inside your apartment, Adam pauses to look you over before saying, “You look like shit. Are you going to tell me what’s really going?”

           Apparently, you’re not as tough as you think you are because you melt into him. At first he’s surprised then he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He scoops you up and takes you to your bedroom. After you’re settled into your bed, Adam joins you, lying with his face facing yours.

           “What’s wrong?” You take a deep inhale then you start to tell him everything, about your past eating disorder, how you still struggle with it. You told him about your triggers and how you’ve gone back to your old habits over the past few days.

           “Why didn’t you tell me before?” He asks as he runs his fingers over your shoulder and down your arm. His eyes never leave yours, but you desperately look away as you tell him, “I was afraid you’d look at me different. You’d think I was fragile flower or something. And it’s hard to talk about.”

           You fiddle with your hands, a nervous habit that you can’t seem to shake. Adam places his hands over yours and you can his warmth washing over you. The man was like a giant heated blanket. Then, he moves his hand to cup your cheek, and he says, “There’s nothing that can make me think less of you.”

           He then punctuates his next sentence with kisses on your face in between each word, “You. Are. Absolutely. Perfect.” You then can’t resist pulling him in for a deep, searing kiss.

******

           The morning after Adam showed up to check up on you and you told him about your past, he left after breakfast, like normal. Everything seemed fine and normal, you felt more connected to Adam than ever before. But clearly things weren’t as they seemed because you hadn’t seen or heard from Adam since. You blame yourself and your troubled past for scaring him away, but now you were determined to get some kind of answer.

           You make the trek over to his apartment, thinking of a thousand different things to say to him, but you’re unable to settle on one. Rushing up the stairs, you almost don’t notice the blonde woman coming down them until you nearly bump into her. Your face goes hot and you feel your heart fall when you realize who she is: Jessa, the Jessa. She’s leaving Adam’s apartment looking disheveled, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what she was just doing.

           Thankfully, she doesn’t stay to talk to you, she continues on her way and you go yours. Pausing outside Adam’s door for a moment, you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. Adam answers the door in his black briefs and it takes you a moment to get your mind back to coherent thoughts.

           “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He lets you inside his apartment and you try to play cool by answering, “Well I didn’t hear from you for a while and wanted to check in on you.”

           “I’ve been busy…” He says and you can tell he’s either flat-out lying to you badly or he’s trying to piss you off. Well he’s succeeded in the second option. You shout, “I saw Jessa leaving when I was coming up here! You must have been really busy.”

           You put emphasis on the word “busy” so he knows that you’re not buying his line of bullshit today. Adam’s not bothered by your annoyance because he just sits down on his yellow sofa and looks at you like you’ve gone totally mad. You ask, “Are you even going to try to explain yourself?”

           “I don’t know why you’re so mad. You have made it abundantly clear that we’re just fuck buddies.” He states in an even voice. You’re too dumbfounded by his answer to respond. He, however, continues, “These things have an expiration date. Six months or until somebody stops having fun.”

           “If that’s really how you feel then I guess this has expired.” You say and your instincts to flee overtake and you bolt out of his apartment. You hear him say your name and hear his footsteps heavy behind you. He catches up with you and gently grabs your arm, but you pull it back vigorously. You tell him, “Let me go!”

           Adam reluctantly obeys your command and you get the hell out of there. Once back inside your apartment, you find yourself unable to fight back the sobs. You’d kept things casual because you didn’t want to get hurt, but apparently you’d left them too casual and now you’re still heartbroken.

*******

           The room was well-lit, with works of art lining the walls. You don’t know why you came to this exhibit, you hadn’t been feeling like yourself since things had ended between you and Adam. You supposed you came here to get out of your own head for a while, and try to move on. Things were going as well as could be expected until you saw Adam standing over by one of the exhibits talking to a pretty blonde woman.

                       Adam sees you and the two of you make eye contact that last longer than necessary. Maybe you had lost your damn mind, maybe you just wanted to be hurt, but you walked over to him. He greets you and the woman smiles at you. Adam introduces the two of you, “Y/N, this is Mimi-Rose. Mimi-Rose, this is Y.N”

           “Nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you,” Mimi-Rose tells you. Then it clicks in your mind that she’s one of his exes, the one in between Hannah and Jessa. If you recall correctly, she’s the one who got back together with her ex right in front of Adam. You smile and say, “I’ve heard a lot about you too. I didn’t know you two still talked.”

           “We ran into each this week and she invited me here so here I am,” Adam answers swiftly, clearly feeling awkward in this situation. You and Adam are staring each other down, there’s still so much unsaid between the two of you. It must have been obvious enough that Mimi-Rose notices it, and she quickly excuses herself from the conversation.

           Soon, you and Adam are heading towards the door together. The two of you wander in silence until you’re at some kind of park. Then it’s Adam who breaks the silence, and he has a lot to say:

“Y/N, I don’t know what you want from me. I try to come over and just fuck you but I can’t and you seem to like it when it’s more. Then when I try to be really sweet and romantic with you, you brush me off, and push me away! You want me to just fuck you some of the time, then you want me to sweet with you some of the time, and I never know what you want!” His hands are moving and he looks like he wants to punch something. You’re shocked that he’s blaming this on you when he’s been blurring the lines the whole time, and he’s the one that went back to Jessa.

“I push you away?! You tell me that we’re just fucking, then you try to be all sweet and act like you want more, then you fall off the face of the earth and I don’t see you or hear from you for days! Then, I find out that you fucked Jessa after I thought you actually gave a damn about me!” You scream back at him. You’re so frustrated, you feel like your body is shaking. Adam is surprised by your answer, he throws his hands up in the air.

“What?! I was with you every night after my show, in the morning, no matter how I felt because I wanted to be with you, wanted to fuck you, wanted to wake up with you.” He says and you’re distracted both by his confession and how his eyes somehow look brighter in the night. You miss him badly, and you want to let go, to fling yourself in his arms but you’re still afraid.

“Adam, what do you really want from me? Do you really know me, know how fucked up I am?” You ask and he takes a step closer, putting his hands lightly on your waist. His touch still gives you butterflies. His right hand moves up to cup your cheek as he answers your question, “Yes I want to know all about you and have you know me! Why can’t you just talk about your feelings?”

“What’s the point? You’ll say you want this now, then in a few months you’ll move on to someone else!” You move out of his embrace and distance yourself from him. You can’t even look at him after saying that, you know it’s insane. He moves away from you too and starts walking back towards the street.

“Jesus fucking Christ! I’ve been with you almost every day for six months, yet you think I’ll just go to the next pussy I see,” He says, not even bothering to look back at you. You start following him even though your head is screaming for you to let him go. He then looks at his phone, desperately trying to figure something out because he’s cursing under his breath. He then announces, “I’m getting an Uber or whatever the fuck it’s called.”

You realize have two options: let Adam go and lose what you feel for him, or take the plunge. You choose the second option and rush over to him, he turns around to look at you. You place your hands flat on his chest as you say, “You wanna know how I feel? I feel like I’m burning but in the best way…”

He interrupts your statement with a kiss. You forgot how soft his lips were how right they felt against yours. When you’re both out of breath and pull away, he’s looking at you reverently. You smile as you ask, “Adam do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

           Adam nods his head yes and kisses you again.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

I’ve struggled with anorexia and bulimia on / off since I was 11 (I’m 21 now), and they cast my show’s spring musical which has like. The ONE positive plus sized role in musical theater and they cast a skinny girl and didn’t even seriously consider any of the plus sized girls there and it makes me REALLY want to start skipping meals again. Which I know is a horrible idea since I only eat one meal a day anyway. I just need someone to talk me out of it I think.

hey, sweetheart, i’m so fucking sorry that you’re struggling and having to face this. this is absolute bullshit and you deserve better.

now look, you’ve been dealing with this for a long time (and you’re incredibly strong and brave to still be standing after a decade of this disease) so i’m sure you’ve heard kind words countless times. i’m sure you’ve been told that you deserve to eat, that you’re beautiful as you are, that you deserve to be smiling instead of crying, that your size and weight doesn’t matter, and so on. and those are good words, i’m not mocking them or saying they aren’t true, but i’m just sure that by now you’ve heard them a lot.

but maybe what you haven’t been told is this. what i want you to do is reach down inside yourself, pushing aside the positivity and the negativity, the kindness to yourself you’re trying to attain and the self-hatred you can’t escape, go deeper than all of it and find the kernel of pure, burning rage at the core of your being.

it’s there. you’ve been told a thousand times, whether in words or action, to minimize yourself, to be smaller, quieter, prettier, happier, nicer, and you’ve nearly killed yourself trying to do it. you’ve starved, you’ve thrown up, you’ve sobbed, you’ve hated yourself and wanted to die, you’ve picked yourself back up off the floor and fought against it, you’ve tried so damn hard and you’ve kept it from killing you even though it’s still your shadow. 

now look at all of these people that made it happen. the capitalists who’ve profited off of your pain. the abusers who’ve used it to subdue you. the cruel, careless assholes who’ve judged you by your appearance since you were a fucking child. the people who still don’t care, the people who know that eating disorders kill people like you, that their actions have an affect on people like you, and still do absolutely nothing to even give a damn about it.

look at all of this, and be angry about it.

be absolutely fucking enraged.

you are ENTITLED to your anger. all of those people have told you to smile, whether it was smile and starve or smile and eat. you don’t have to smile. why the fuck should you smile about your body and soul being used as the battleground for money and bigotry and control. why should you smile about so much of your life being stolen out from under you for absolutely no good reason at all. 

our anger is a powerful force, and that’s why they shame us for it. our anger can break their chains, so they tell us from infancy that we can’t be angry, that it’s not pretty when we’re angry, that it’s not ladylike or nice to be angry when someone hurts you. well too fucking bad, if they didn’t want us to be angry, they shouldn’t have hurt us in the first place. 

we didn’t start this war. we didn’t ask to be judged and torn down and ripped apart for the horrible crime of having normal human bodies. we never asked to have our worth judged by our beauty. we were not born to be thin and nothing else. we were not born to starve.

they starve us so we’re weak. they make us obsess about our bodies because they fear our minds. they tell us to smile so we bury our anger. they tell us to be happy so we don’t consider revenge.

stomp on every voice that ever told shamed your anger. cradle the rage in your hands and breathe life into it. fan its flames until it is not a tiny candle but a bonfire that nobody could put out even if they tried. let the anger give you power, let it make you strong. feel the rage flow through your blood, feel it straighten your spine and lift your chin and burn in your eyes. give your fire the fuel it needs.

they are afraid of your fire, and they should be.