#and now ive lost a lot of weight... but it started with me weighing myself a while back while no one was home

[cryolyst]

~

[pizzapizzadickz]

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[petite-carcass]

i've surpassed my gw and i am officially 119 lbs. i have been sick (my doctor thinks its bronchitis) for over a week now and my appetite has been SHIT. i mean, wow, im basically just not hungry. its kinda incredible. i also get full very fast. however, i have been eating a lot of junk, so when i went to weigh myself today, i was expecting maybe a 2 lb weight loss (last time i weighed i was 126, so i was expecting 124) but no. the scale looked me dead in my eyes and said 119. now, i am quite happy about this, however i think im a bit more concerned, lol. i didnt even think it was possible for myself to lose 7 lbs in 2 weeks. i mean, i completely missed scaling in for my gw! 119 lbs feels ok. my clothes being too big on me is incredibly noticeable now. my stomach definitely doesn't look as huge when im wearing crop tops. and my ribs are starting to show. overall i feel kinda weird. 7 lbs lost in 2 weeks is very different for me. ive never lost this much weight in such a short time span before. stay safe my friends!

[porcelainchurch]

um hi

tw mentions of weight in numbers

i don’t really know where to begin so i’ll just start somewhere with a bang: i’m weight restored !!! at least partially ! i weigh more than i ever have with my previous hw having been 47kg when i was 14 and now being 18 (approaching 19) i was 48.5kg when i was weighed about a month ago.

i can’t say it hasn’t mortified me but i can’t say i haven’t been happy about it either ! i’ve been, and am, proud of the progress i’ve made but i guess mostly because it’s shown me how low i’ve been. things are changing. my bones don’t stick out of my skin when i go to feel them. i don’t constantly feel dizzy and like i’m about to faint, i don’t constantly have a headache, my whole body isn’t constantly sore from merely existing. i don’t constantly feel like i’m on the verge of having a heart attack either, which now in hindsight i might have been last summer, thinking on all the alarming symptoms and sensations i had which are now almost all gone. it all happened so fast, too, i gained the 8.5kg in about 3 months which i guess was my body having been absolutely miserable and fixing itself as quickly as possible when finally given the opportunity to do so. i’ve learnt a lot about how my body should feel and function, which is sort of bittersweet, growing at last now as an adult. i wish recovery for each and every one of you skimming this side of the internet, it’ll be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do, but also truly the best and just plainly necessary.

that being said i’m far from recovered myself. even though my body is doing better than it has in ages - and even so, is still vulnerable and in the middle of healing which according to my doctor may take years - my mind has never been as disheveled. i made the same mistake now as in the past of not picking this battle myself. though my whole family’s been begging me to make a change for as long as my issue’s been known, with the push of my boyfriend who with tenderness and sensibility encouraged and slightly pressured me to eat i forced myself to give it a try again. he’s been an immense help and source of hope along the way, reminding me daily of how far i’ve come and telling me how proud he is of me. i want to do this for myself as well but really i’m doing it just for him and i hate that that’s the way it is.

now ive been missing my disorder more than ever. it’s not that i hate what i see in the mirror, quite on the contrary actually (i finally have tits lol), it’s mostly the hole in me that, now, i have no means to fill. i wish i was anorexic still. it’s all i know how to be. it’s the closest thing to a person i can make of myself. i have an ardent hankering for the easy existance of a slow and quiet end. there’s a hollow in me in the shape of illness and i was told that other things like my dreams and passions would take its place and i pray they will, but it feels like nothing can. saying and thoroughly feeling all that, i know i’m more than a set of symptoms and pains which is something i have to remind myself of a lot.

i’ve lost my appetite again and i can’t bring myself to eat. it’s not easy. i want to give up and return to what feels like comes naturally for me with even more vigour and violence than before, but i know it’d be stupid and i’d just hurt those rooting for me. maybe i’ll learn to want this happiness for myself. maybe i’ll learn to want to exist for myself and for my own love of life which before went unlived. maybe i’ll learn to not want to move through life with my head buried in my hands but with a heart open to witness the world outside me. it’s all mere maybes to me, and i suppose it’s a learning process and i’m trying to see it as something beautiful. i’m trying to hang on and i’m trying to learn to do it for myself.

[showmethemwristbones]

lil diary for me:

10/29/22

just weighed myself for the first time since moving into my new apartment (2 months) and i weigh 170lbs!! this is the highest ive been since freshman year of highschool (when i was 185lbs).

so i took action and redownloaded myfitnespal

im probably going to go mostly gluten free again

im on welbutrin now so im hoping to lose a bit of my appetite

i work 8hr shifts full time so i just wont eat during my shifts and i work at a coffee shop so ill just drink black coffee and tea all day

i drink less but still a bit so i drink eveeeen less. maybe ill just stick to white claws and i already only drick gin/vodka and club soda

i quick smoking which helped me lose a lot of weight when i was smoking but i dont think ill go back to it (yet)

since starting welbutrin i only binged one day and it was cause i was hungover so i realize i need to stop eating so much when im hungover

i miss being 110 lbs

i need to be cute and beautiful again

i keep looking back at pictures from when i lost a lot of weight and i looked so good

i think going to the hospital in may 2021 set me off to gain a bunch of weight and im so tired of being f4t

i cry a lot

i never let myself be with ppl

i stay in more

its such a tough cycle to break but i think i have the self control to eat less again

anywayyyyy

[the-darkfactory]

A SICK GIRL.

This text was written and published in November 2018. This is the first time I translate to English. Hope it reaches those who need to read it most. Much love.

I was born dying. I was dragged from my mom's belly straight to the intensive care unit and spent a month in the incubator until I could breathe without machines. I was also born whole and no one ever told me that, one day, my mind was going to split in two.

I was very little when I first felt strange. Very strange. I was already 5’6 feet tall when I started my last year in primary school, finding clothes that fit me was torture. However, for my graduation party, I found a purple dress that seemed perfect. When I tried it on, under that all-showing light in the changing room, I felt fat. That was the first time I was disgusted by my reflection.

After a summer tinged with school farewell melodrama, I started high school. I spent most of my free time studying, listening to the Backstreet Boys or reading Harry Potter. At the end of the first semester, I got the best grades in my class. While everyone at home was happily celebrating, I made a pact with a friend: I was going to stop eating.

My thinness brought about new habits and what I remember the most is how cold I was: during school recess, my friends would go out to play and I would stay in the classroom wearing every sweatshirt I could find. It would take me forty-five minutes to eat an apple and before going to sleep, I would go over each food item I’ve had in the day and calculate the calories. I also learned that I had to get up slowly to avoid the dizziness that turned my room into a washing machine.

One day my family and I went to one of those “all you can eat” restaurants. After two sandwiches and a bit of cake, I started crying because I had an intense stomach ache, but it was all a premeditated drama I staged so they wouldn't make me have dinner. Two days later, my mom dragged me to a clinic. I had to take off my clothes and stand on an ice-cold scale. "You weigh 39 kilos," the doctor announced. "You're anorexic."

I was taken to a hospital that had a team specializing in treating people like me. We waited for hours until my name was called and I was met by an anti-anorexic army: a nutritionist, a clinical doctor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and others I never understood who they were. They made my parents leave and Anorexia and I were interrogated. They asked us if we vomited, if we had thought about committing suicide and if we had ever been abused. When we talked about my parents' divorce, we burst into tears. Then they faced the back of two chairs and asked us to separate them according to how far apart we felt they had to be from each other in order for us to fit between them. We did it and passed the test: we knew we were tiny. The doctors said I was on the verge of hospitalization. I was a sick girl.

Once our relationship was made official, we went to the hospital three times a week. Long waiting, weighing, talking. We were forbidden to be physically active and we had to write down how much of what we ate a day. Mom sometimes comforted us and sometimes shouted at us. One night she yelled a lot because we had only had a piece of fruit for dinner, but how could I explain to her that eating made Anorexia hurt and so it hurt me too? We were sent to a psychologist we stared at in silence for an hour. We finished our junior year with straight As, enslaved at home and undernourished.

Anorexia and I did everything together. I would start a sentence and she would finish it. When I moved my hand to grab something, she was the one who forced my fingers closed, and if something bothered her, I did whatever was necessary to calm her down. One afternoon, we went cycling with our friends and we were carried on the handlebars so we wouldn't move. Everything was going beautifully until a sudden stop made us fall face first to the ground. We got up spitting teeth and blood. We broke our four incisors, skin came off our lips and we split the right side of our face. That night before showering, I stared at our skeletal, beaten up reflection. Days shy of my fourteenth birthday, I cried my heart out asking Anorexia what the fuck had she done.

I wanted her to go away. The only thing I could do to get her to leave was eat. Sometimes she won, sometimes I won. Once, she lost 100 grams and I went home after the medical check up feeling a killer urge. Another day, I gained 200 and that night she didn’t let me sleep. It was war. If Anorexia told me to hide food, I ran off to snack with my brother. If she hated sandwiches, I'd buy a dozen of my favorites. For every complaint of hers, a food bite of mine, and so, bite by bite, I filled her mouth with silence until I could no longer hear her speak.

I started my second year of high school with a seemingly healthy weight. I went to the hospital once a week. Eventually, I was told I could go once a fortnight, once every twenty-one days and, somehow, I stopped going altogether. I don’t remember how or when that decision was made. The only thing I do know is that during all that time I ate almost nothing from Monday to Friday and a lot from Saturday to Sunday in order to weigh more at the Monday check-ups. The thing was that once the pact between Anorexia and I had been made, she would try and talk to me every day. People didn't notice but I knew she was still there. We were still the best students, we lifted weights after eating a salad and we never got our periods. We were stopped on the streets to be offered jobs at modeling agencies and we realized that our bond had the aesthetic approval of society. I forgave her for all she had done and gave her, again, space in my body to grow.

When we turned seventeen, Anorexia changed. She screamed at me and didn't feel like doing anything. We quit the gym, gained weight and developed insomnia. One drunken night, we came home and went straight to the kitchen. We opened the fridge and devoured, on our knees, all the leftovers from dinner. We then shoved our fingers down our throats. That's how Bulimia arrived.

Bulimia was fiercely hungry. My cheeks, arms, and chin grew like a fatty bubble. I was disgusted by my body and I got dressed in the dark. I stopped studying, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. At prom I had two drinks and passed out. I woke up in hospital with an IV in my arm and my worried mother by my side. I didn't know how to explain that for weeks and in order to be skinny that night, everything I ate, Bulimia vomited.

I wanted to feel normal. I was very weak and exhausted, but Bulimia was young and confident. She never shut up, she would even eat raw polenta in spoonfuls and vomit it all, leaving me tired and confused lying in my bed. Her arrival was abrupt because Anorexia had already drilled holes in my head: they were different versions of the same thing and a pattern of destructive habits that infected everything. They turned my life into a living hell.

We vomited so much that we spent hours burying our heads in the toilet seat and we would only stop when we saw the first thing we had eaten leaving our body. We did it five, six times a day. We used every bathroom we set foot in. The ones at school, my friends' houses, restaurants, my grandmother's, my dad's. I developed arrhythmia and thought that Bulimia was going to get me killed. Some nights, while dreaming that I was violently bingeing, I would wake up desperate and ready to stick my fingers in my mouth until I realized that, that one time, the binge had been a dream. That feeling of “fake need to vomit” was the closest thing to peace I felt during those times.

Bulimia didn't want me around anyone. She made me think I was crazy and that I would never be able to be separated from her. I stayed away from my friends. I stopped having dinner with my family and we would lock ourselves up in my room. Mom would bring me trays of food that Bulimia kept in plastic bags. I once found a rotten chicken inside the closet. It was full of maggots. We were almost found out when my brother saw a glass of vomit in the bathroom that we had forgotten to flush down the toilet. He brought it to me and said, "Is this yours?" while retching. We nodded and took it away from him as if it had been a misplaced shoe.

I don't know how I managed to free myself from anorexia and bulimia, but for the last three years I have hardly felt their presence. Sometimes I wonder if I started traveling around the world to confuse them and leave them stranded in another part of the planet. Maybe they got bored of my criticism and couldn't stand my will to not share my body with them. One thing I’m sure of is that love played a major part. It was crucial to understand that I did not choose to live with them and that asking a person with compulsive thoughts to stop having them is like asking a paralytic to simply stand up and walk.

Anorexia and bulimia stole my time and energy. I gave them my will to live, my projects and motivations. In return, they gave me anxiety, panic attacks, depression and suicidal thoughts. They still whisper to me every now and then but I can ignore them. It’s not always easy. I don’t know, this coexistence has been very strange but they definitely don’t own me anymore. Looking for the reasons I developed this disorder is complex. I know that I was affected by the pressure I felt from a very young age to be perfect, the weirdness that arose in my family dynamics after the divorce and feeling that for society I was worth more as a woman the skinnier I was. The final trigger must have been a genetic predisposition and a bit of mystery: there is still a lot that science doesn't know about all this. Once my disease was established, it became a vicious, out-of-control cycle that was perpetuated by the worst evil of all: silence. I felt a deep shame, thought it was my fault and that, hence, I deserved what was happening to me. That made me sicker and I vowed to hide it, which was possible because these disorders are invisible: they lock themselves inside bodies of all types, gender, background, shape and turn them into slaves.

When I stopped vomiting and regained control of my hands, I wrote this. It feels weird. After seventeen years of being in a symbiotic relationship, there is something I still don't understand: if I am no longer a sick girl, then who am I?

[mrs--wheels]

I made a human.

Yes, I made a human.  I gave birth to a baby boy!  Here’s my birth story: On Wednesday July 14th I went for my routine 36 week OB-Gyn checkup.  At that visit they did a sonogram and everything looked normal, baby was in the 46th percentile for size.  The Dr. checked my cervix and I was 2 cm dilated already.  My blood pressure was high, which it had been for 6 weeks, but I did not have preeclampsia (yet - I was borderline.)  The Dr. took me off work and said if I did not deliver by next week Thursday July 22 I would need to be induced.  My blood pressure was causing really bad swelling everywhere in my body, but especially my calves, ankles, feet and wrists.  I weighed 251 lbs at the checkup, about 55 lbs heavier than my pre-pregnancy weight.  So I went into work with my disability form all filled out and basically peaced out, said goodbye to a few of my coworkers and my boss, and I ain’t lookin’ back.  I went home, much to my husband’s surprise (he was working from home that day.)  I’d like to say I enjoyed the last week of my pregnancy but that’s not entirely true.  I was in terrible discomfort, especially my pelvis: I was having bad pelvic pain & pressure, so bad I could barely walk. The night of Monday July 19th I could hardly walk up the stairs to my bed, it hurt so bad.  I did have surprisingly restful night’s sleep that night, which was good because of what was to come... At 5 am on Tuesday July 20th, I rolled over in bed and felt a wetness.  Unsure if I peed myself or if my water broke, I went into the bathroom.  Clear fluid was running down my legs, and it didn’t smell like pee.  The puddle on my sheets didn’t either.  I called the OB-Gyn’s office from the bathroom. and the Dr. on call told me if contractions started on their own to head into the hospital.  If they didn’t start on their own, head in anyway but wait until after 8:30, 9 am.  So I took a shower, made some toast & a banana for breakfast, and unloaded the dishwasher.  Around 6 am I had my first contractions, but they weren’t too strong and they were about 7 or 8 minutes apart.  I woke up my husband and told him I thought my water broke, and I was having contractions.  He leapt out of bed and into the shower.  As I lay on the bed waiting for him, the contractions were coming closer together (4-5 minutes apart) and getting stronger.  My husband got dressed and I called my mom.  She said she’d meet us at the hospital and we grabbed the overnight bags and diaper bag and went straight to the hospital. My husband drove like a panicked maniac, and I was gritting my teeth in the passenger seat with every contraction.  We got to the hospital and I refused to let my husband get me a wheelchair, I wanted to walk in on my own.  I had a contraction in the parking lot and barely made it to the 2nd floor to Labor & Delivery.  By now it was around 7:30 am.  They took me into a triage room for a  workup, I changed into a gown, and a nurse put the fetal heart monitor on me.  I got to listen to that little galloping horse heartbeat, nice and strong.  In came a Dr. and 2 students, they did a history on me and after a very uncomfy pelvic exam it was determined I was 8 cm dilated and fully effaced!  (The student who first checked me said I was 4 cm... the actual Dr determined it was 8... kind of a big difference!)  The contractions were pretty much on top of each other by now, only a minute apart.  I was moved straight into the delivery room, without stopping in a labor room first. This was at around 9:30 am maybe? I got to 10 cm in less than than 2 hours, and ready to push.  I didn’t even have a hospital bracelet or an IV, things were moving way too fast.  The Dr. showed up fully gowned, and they got me on the table and ready to go.  This was the first time my mom was able to see me, she’d been waiting over an hour, since I was expected to be in labor a lot longer! I was ready to push at just before 10 am and I was absolutely terrified, I was so not ready.  I had a birth plan packed in my overnight bag.  In it, I requested an epidural.  I wanted pain meds, to be able to sleep and rest during labor... My husband brought his laptop, we had a bluetooth speaker ready to play music in the delivery room... All of this was shot right out the window.  I was terrified of the prospect of pushing, terrified of the pain.  I felt like I had to take a massive poop, and even screamed “I’m gonna poop!” in the delivery room.  My mom and the Dr were like “Just do it! That’s the baby coming out!”  I pushed maybe a dozen times? Twice for every contraction.  I squeezed my husband’s hand and felt my mom’s hand on my forehead.  I was drenched in sweat from head to toe and shaking like crazy.  They told me not to scream, that I was wasting energy I needed to funnel into pushing -  but, like, ok, it hurts!  I was hurling 4-letter words (and I never swear around my mom,) and gripping onto the back of the pillow under my head (which didn’t help the poor nurse still trying to stick an IV in my arm - they blew a vein in my left hand and ended up putting the IV in my right wrist - normally I’m bad with needles but I was in so much pain I didn’t even care.)  The fetal heart monitor wasn’t working anymore, because the baby was moving down the birth canal.  The excess skin & fluid on my lower abdomen made it difficult to get a reading, so a nurse was literally pushing the monitor hard into my belly, while I was trying to push at the same time.  Eventually they used an internal monitor, this thing that looks like a cattle prod that attached to the top of the baby’s head, under the scalp, through the cervix.  Luckily I didn’t know that had happened until after he was born. After about 15 minutes of pushing, and my poor crying husband looking like he was about to pass out (he hates seeing me in pain.) I gave birth to a baby boy at 10:14 am.  It’s the most bizarre feeling in the world: like I was a bottle of champagne and he was the cork.  I could feel everything since I had no drugs, the baby’s head and shoulders popping out and the gush of fluids afterwards. I did need a few stitches, I had a second degree tear, but I never felt that or the placenta being delivered. The whole room was in a flurry, there was at least 1 dozen people there - the Dr, an instructor, several students, nurses and my mom & husband.  I was the talk of labor & delivery that day: the first-timer who came in at 7:30 and had a baby less than 3 hours later.  The baby was put right on my chest after he was born.  I had my eyes closed pretty much the entire time I had been pushing, but I opened them when I felt that warm, wiggly little baby on me.  He was absolutely beautiful, rosy pink and screaming.  My husband said he was born with his eyes open, arms and legs flailing, and a very healthy set of lungs.  He scored a 9 on his one-minute Apgar and a 9 on the 5-minute too: the highest score you can get!  He weighed 6 lbs, 8 oz and was 20.25 inches long.  My husband cut the cord (squeamishly) and my mom and him just gushed over this perfect little guy.  I was exhausted but exhilarated, I felt triumphant!  I had given birth with no drugs, all natural, and made it out to tell the tale. I had no idea my body was capable of that, but it knew more than I did.... We (me, my mom, and my husband) were able to stay in the delivery room for 2 hours after the baby’s birth.  We finally agreed on a name (well, I proposed the name and wouldn’t take no for an answer - after all, who had just given birth anyways?)  We decided on Owen Paul.  Owen because I love the name and it means “warrior”, and Paul after my brother who passed away 19 years ago.  It somehow fits him perfectly, he looks like an Owen.  He’s got beautiful red-gold hair that swirls on his head, and dark blue eyes that I’m hoping stay that color.  I was able to start nursing him right away (my nursing journey is a story for another time, though...) and we were all able to bond.  It was a wonderful experience, and it is true what they say: you forget all the pain once you lay eyes on the little miracle.  Maybe it’s the huge rush of hormones that causes this amnesia, but it really is true.  I’d do it all over again!

I’ve lost nearly all the weight I gained during pregnancy, since it was pretty much all baby, placenta, amniotic fluid and the fluid that was blowing me up like a balloon.  I’m not in any pain, even with the stitiches. I only took a few Tylenol the first couple of days, I guess I have a pretty high tolerance!  I’m feeling good, all things considered, and healthy.  It’s nice not to have that constant pelvic pain anymore. Owen is going to be 2 weeks old tomorrow, and it’s been a huge adjustment (an obvious understatement.)  The days are long, but the years will be short - everyone tells me that.  It’s frustrating, and miserable and so so so tiring.  But they are only babies for such a short time, I plan on enjoying every minute of him!  He’s the best thing I’ve ever made.

[healthyhopefully]

Im Back...

it’s been a couple of years since I’ve really used this account because i hit my goal weight of 145. i maintained a weight between 145-155 for about two years after hitting my goal up until now, the past 3 to 4 maybe even 5 months (its hard to gauge time these days lol) I’ve gained more weight than i have wanted it started out me trying to eat to gain muscle but it turned into over eating and under exercising i’m currently 166 pounds as of today that’s after eating I know i shouldn’t weigh myself after eating but i know my body. im about 20 pounds heavier today than i was this day last year, i try not to be too hard on myself because of quarantine and covid has made this year a lot different from what anyone couldve expected. im just back to try and keep myself motivated and lose this little bit of weight i know i can do this ive lost more before so this shouldnt be too hard my goal date is somewhere around valentines day lol im wanna feel sexy again by then my weight gain has brought me back to an old place i dont like even tho 15 or 20 pounds may not seem like a lot to some the feeling of my clothes being too tight hurts a lot i dont wanna to feel like that anymore ive felt that feeling plenty of times in this life lol im good off that so im getting it together right now  

IM BACK AGAIN💀 and heavier than ever before I’m currently 230 which is crazy asf I had got to 235 but I was also getting my period so idk if that contributed lol ,a lot of things have added to this weight gain but I’m back on my health journey and I want to feel good about myself again I would love to just be 166 again I thought I was huge then but I’ve gained so much in a short amount of time. I love myself and I’m done treating my body like trash I’ve been attempting to eat healthier and lower calories for the past 2 and a half maybe 3 weeks , I’ve been tracking calories and I starting exercising again a few days ago . I feel alot better already just knowing I’m in control because I’ve felt so out of control these past few months I definitely know wishing the past 3-4 months I’ve gained 30 lbs which has me at my heaviest so it made me do some introspection I know I’m an emotional eater and I went way overboard I got trapped in a terrible cycle that I don’t want to go through again. Covid was the initial trigger to my binge eating issues and basically my addiction to sugar got reignited, before that I had kept my weight off for over 2 +years until the quarantine and things have just went downhill from there. I had got trapped at a job I hated after the quarantine which made me eat more to numb my feelings and make me feel like I have more joy in my life that I was dreading back then. But enough rambling, I just want to use this as a journey or me talking about my feelings and documenting my weight loss journey again… the first time was so hard and this time is gonna be even harder but I just know I can do it, I don’t want this weight to define me I don’t feel like I’m who I can be . My whole heart is in this fitness journey .

[mollydollyjournals]

I felt a lot more stable than usual yesterday for some reason. Maybe it was the fever. Today I feel horrible again. The past few hours I've been trying to fight a mood drop but it's here regardless. I don't really know what to do about it. I want to latch onto weight loss stuff but with my health and energy being so bad, my old scales not working and new ones not here yet, there's not much I can do. I want to go weigh myself then think about weight projections, and I could go work out. But standing up is enough to make me almost throw up or pass out, and my scales are just random number generators at this point.

I feel really sad. It's day 5 of no alcohol. Maybe I do still get bad withdrawal after all. Maybe it's just going to vary day to day. Maybe it's nothing to do with that. I want to go have some of the rum from downstairs. But it's difficult to measure - I don't have a proper shotglass and I don't know where my measuring spoons are. I can't afford to measure wrong. Part of me says I could just guess anyway, or underestimate. But idk.

I just don't want to feel so shit. It's simple. I feel shit and I don't want to. I'm annoyed at myself for binging yesterday. Ive had shitty food today due to not being able to make proper food. I haven't had salad in quite a while now. It feels like it anyway. I want to feel okay enough to do all that stuff.

I shouldn't drink if I'm ill either. Especially not if it's fucking covid. But withdrawal is a bitch and a half. And I really can't stand feeling like this. I just want to feel better.

But then part of me also says it's day 5, and I haven't done this long of absolutely zero alcohol since November. I was having a lot of the nonalc wine which still has a small amount, and the congeners and such. I haven't this time. But then also my alcohol free week in November ended with me drinking 2 bottles of wine and giving myself serious liver issues. As with food, small amounts here and there stop me from binging, so maybe it's better to do that.

But I'd like to be able to say I've gone a week. If I get through today, tomorrow and the day after, then even if I drink on Thursday I'll have done a full 7 days. But that feels like forever. Especially if I'm like this. I have no company again. Hb is doing whatever he does downstairs. We're both ill. Can't go anywhere for obvious reasons. I'm shit at messaging people.

My head is starting to hurt as I write. From any number of reasons. Idk. It's nearly 10pm. 4-5hrs until bed. I can probably survive that without drinking, just about. But the idea of having to get up and do it all over again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and indefinitely...just never getting a break. Then I feel like there's no point. At least I did manage the 4 day break that I wanted. Whatever I do now I have that. But idk. I feel very lost without my scales.

[t0drire]

i can never seem to do each day but i love talking about myself i think I’m just answer them all in this one post!

1.) cw: 183 but i haven’t weighed myself and i put on these pants that use to be tight so i probs weigh less now: hopefully once gyms open up again i can weigh myself

2.) 5’2: i absolutely hate my weight, i always think about how if i were taller i’d be at a better starting weight

3.) I don’t have an specific one but emma chamberlain is probs the most inspirational in my whole life

4.) i think like most people: loose skin

5.) I don’t care what other think I really don’t, i just want to be happy with myself and how younger me always imagined I look like. I want my clothing to fit me the way I want them to. I want to be able to control how look more

6.) I binge because i think it doesn’t matter to be skinny. I think about how everyone else loves me so i should do the same.

7.) no and no

8.) I just started a new job where i walk about 10,000 -20,000 steps and then once gyms open up i like to walk at least 10,000 whether that’s on a treadmill or on a bike machine. and then i normall do some arm work out on a machine.

9.) Yea, when i was in high school people use to call my honey boo boo. but honestly most times it wasn’t even someone trying to be mean but my mom would compare me to the characters she thought were cute like little big character or heavier girls on tv. and then my friends would call me thick and make sure i knew i “wasn’t fat just thick”.

10.) nothing really, i just restricted how much of the things i love to eat

11.) N/A

12.) Depends really it really does change every day. but if I really want to eat pizza rolls ( or pizza in general) i go through my whole day working out and not eating and then i’ll “binge” on pizza rolls for dinner.

13.) I think i do it healthier than others, like if i crave something i eat but smaller portions

14.) 120: I want to lose it by winter but i know how holidays can be and my life is crazy so maybe even next summer.

15.) I’m slowly becoming vegan with cutting out cheese right now, i already drink almond milk. and i think it’s kinda help because my options at restaurants are more limited and then also since everyone knows i’m vegan they don’t think it’s weird when i read the calories cause that’s normally where the ingredients are 😌

16.) around last winter time is when i’ve decided to put in more effort towards it. but before in high school so last year i had only drank diet dr pepper and maybe a small bag of hot cheetos so i’d look skinnier at school lmao

17.) i think i have disordered eating rather than eat disorder

18.) pizza 100% but lately mcchicken omfg

19.) not too long ago i went with my boyfriend and got a cheeseburger no meat and a small fry. lots of calories for a small amount of food but it was good still

20.) N/A

21.) I normally where whatever top wise because i range from wanting baggy to crop tops so i can wear a small to a xxlarge. but pants wise i bought leggings the other day in a medium

22.) my lowest weight was when i was a kid i was like 160 and my doctor gave me recommendations to lose weight and i didn’t fucking listen which i hate

23.) in a way i guess by my mom comparing me to tv characters who were pigs or heavier. but otherwise not really. emma chamberlain is my favorite person ever so i want to lose weight and be more like her in that aspect.

24.) the term itself if i think about is bad cause i’m not actually pro any ed but it’s easier to use them as tag and at this point i feel like most people aren’t even pro ana/mia that’s just a normalize term that’s lost it’s actual meaning

25.) ive tried but i can’t my body refuses to puke lmao

26.) outfits 110% i just want to wear cute outfits

27.) very poorly if it’s my favorite food offered to me. but if someone eats around me even if it’s food i like it’s fine. I can’t handle rejecting or wasting food since i grew up poor

28.) honestly not really. i don’t really care either way about a thigh gap it’d be nice to have it but also i’m not dying to have it

29.) someone who is happy and confident in themselves. when someone can even find just the smallest thing that they love about themselves

30.) i’m 19, I live in tennessee with my bf, I love video games and anime, i’m a minimalist, i love working out, when i work out i normally watch youtube especially emma chamberlain, I love moomin and ruby and max, i have a cat his name is apollo, i love fashion.

[pirateshow]

god ive been working out and eating less and snacking a LOT less bc basically i was living like a raccoon

and im actually really proud of myself bc i lost 6 pounds in like 10 days and i feel stronger and i no longer feel like my body is falling apart but I miss snacking. I wanna shove a whole box of pringles down my esophagus and I feel the need to consume chocolate like water bc ive been eating basically 1300 calories a day, almost ALL vegetables, fruit and low carb shit and Some Snacks but my fat ass is literally used to 3000 calories a day and eating a whole bag of chips EVERY day and I kind of drink hummus as if it were a beverage? but hummus is so FUCKING full of calories who lied and made me believe that it was a healthy dip back in 2017 I just wanna talk

ok i think tumblr double entered me back there and i dont know how to fix that but anyways ive been doing good, im really bored tho? so basically im like 5 foot 8 or 9 and when I first weighed myself I was fucking 220 pounds whats up with THAT

why did I let myself go in my teens like girl wtf

i gained Some weight when stopped growing when i was like uhh 14/15 i think but i was fine but then i gained More weight when I started taking antidepressants and I gained MORE weight when I started taking the pill

idk i was always a lanky kid but now im a chubby bordering on fat sad bitch! and i finally realised that this way of living is gonna bite me in the ass when im older, and losing 40-60 pounds without gaining it right back isnt that unrealistic given i have literally nothing to do during quarantine

idk i wanted to get this off my chest

if anyone wants me to tag weight/weight loss related posts just ask or dm

[aliceslantern]

Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 4

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Chapter summary:  Ienzo's attempts to regain his power go awry, leading him to a confrontation with Even.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo turned back to his work, again, with a fervor. Only this time, after dealing with all of Ansem and Even’s frippery, at night he tried to find places to train magic.

The greenhouse was out. Demyx was using that, and might see things he didn’t need to see.

The castle was huge. Plenty of nooks and crannies to squirrel himself away in, but Ienzo did not want to spend hours climbing or walking somewhere just to train for yet more time. He spent several days trying to subtly coax the entirety of Aeleus and Dilan’s rounds out of them; it needed to be off their radar, too. At last, though, he found it. It was a domed courtyard, perhaps fifteen meters in diameter, with several pillars; these pillars had lighted sconces. The ground had once been inlaid parquet, only it had been damaged and torn away in places. It was quiet, here, and there was potential for moonlight.

He dressed comfortably. He brought with him a small store of water, nonperishable snacks. Ienzo wasn’t quite brazen enough to try stealing ethers from Even’s stores; the man would no doubt notice they were missing. He’d have to make do for now until the next time he went to the market.

Ienzo sat cross legged on the ground. He tried to breathe and center himself, and once he felt he was sufficiently focused he summoned the lexicon.

It had once been named “Book of Retribution,” a name he’d not consciously chosen but had been inscribed in the front cover. He knew now that of course this was the very essence of his psyche; what else would a scholar, a researcher have other than a book ? He had no need for knives, swords, or instruments. Words could--and did--hurt just as much. They could break your heart.

Sticks and stones , he thought sourly.

But this volume? There was nothing written on the inner cover, just blankness, a generic paper print. There were some contents to this book now, from all his time spent reading in this life so far. So what was it? Was it nameless? Did it matter?

Friend, he thought towards it, help me.

Ienzo stood. His powers had been partially telekinetic, at least in regards to the lexicon. It might be easiest to start there. He held it out in his arms and tried to pull from within. He could feel the book trembling in his grip as he tried to lift it with his mind; instantly Ienzo felt a hot headache blooming, his heart rate increasing noticeably. Just fucking pick it up, he thought to himself. He let go with his hands, and it immediately fell to the floor.

He almost groaned out loud, but composed himself. He had to be calm. Try again.

He must’ve stood there for hours. It was unclear.

Every time Ienzo tried to get the lexicon to do what he wanted, it simply flopped to the ground. He could get it to do no more than tremble in his hands. The pain grew worse, and he grew dizzier, until his breathing was quite labored. The water and snacks only partially helped. He felt drained, depleted, in more ways than one, and to his shock felt frustrated tears building in his eyes.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

He walked back to the apprentices’ quarters and dropped into bed for a weary few hours of sleep before his alarm woke him.

---

These days took on a pattern. By day, he was Ienzo, a modest scholar of the heart, seeking to plumb the depths of Kairi’s. By night, he was closer to Zexion, struggling to reign in a power he’d once had like breath. He had no idea if he was making any progress or if he were simply hurting his body for no reason.

Because it was hurting. He was prone more than ever to headaches, to wooziness, and sometimes even in sedentary stillness his heart would race. He felt out of breath climbing stairs. The ethers he finally got his hands on did help, but only so much. It seemed like Even was right, about the entropy. Not to mention, magic burned ludicrously more calories for humans than Nobodies, and he struggled to keep up proper intake.

He couldn’t do nothing. What were some aches and pains compared to Sora’s life?

The weeks--or months? He wasn’t sure--seemed to drag on in this manner… Ienzo so slowly made progress, was able to lift and manipulate the book with relative ease, though it left him gasping for air. He would get used to it. He’d be sure of it.

That morning, he’d again been feeling dizzy, but thought nothing of it. He saw Demyx in the hall, on his own way to work. “Hey, Zo,” he said pleasantly. Ienzo had tried to be cordial, since his breakdown, had even responded to the other boy’s texts--but Ienzo had no time for friendship, and he thought Demyx knew that. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen hide or hair of you in forever.”

“It certainly is going,” he said vaguely. His vision was blurry, and he felt again his heart starting to skip, to race. It would pass. “I’m afraid I’ve barely had a moment to myself.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “But are you… doing okay?”

“Better than I was. Thank you for asking.”

“‘...Course.” He smiled a little.

“How’s your work?”

“Oh, same soup, just reheated, you know? But I honestly don’t mind. It’s just different enough every day. And so far… almost all the people I’ve met are nice. It’s… refreshing.” A wry laugh.

“I know I haven’t been--very warm--” A particularly sharp pain echoed through his head, and he touched it without meaning to.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate--Zo?”

He tried to breathe through the pain. His heart had leapt into his throat. He realized all this must be very visible because Demyx added,

“Hey. Zo?”

Ienzo tried to find the words to console him, but his knees were weakening.

“Zo? I… fuck.”

His consciousness cut rather abruptly, and from here there were only odd snatches of things. He was being carried, his face pressed against Demyx’s chest, the smell of laundry and something like salt and ginger. How odd… to be so vulnerable…

“I got your call--what on earth happened?”

“We were just talking and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.”

More darkness, more lost time. Ienzo didn’t regain awareness all at once. He felt blankets, the distinctive pull of an IV, the smell of bleached linen. An ache, dulled by painkillers, nothing quite having straight lines.

“...My boy? Can you hear me?” A warm, dry hand against his.

His eyelids felt like lead, and a scratchiness of sandpaper.

“Let him sleep, Ansem. He’ll need it for the hiding I’m about to give--”

He either slept or was unconscious--it was hard to tell. But things were clearer once he opened his eyes.

He was not in his bedroom. He was in the med bay, where he’d tended to Even and Dilan as they recovered from their Nobodies’ wounds. While not as cold or as sterile as the Organization’s own ward, it was still quite jarring.

“Awake at last?” Even set aside the tablet he’d been holding and came over to the bed.

“Time for the hiding, then?” Ienzo asked dully.

“Do you have any idea what shape you were in when Demyx brought you to me?”

“I was simply unconscious.”

“Simply--” Even sputtered, his hands near his face, and Ienzo saw Vexen once again. “You do realize healthy twenty-year-olds don’t simply black out, yes?”

Ienzo sat up. He was still perilously dizzy, but less so. “Perhaps I was just ill.”

“None of this perhaps nonsense. I know exactly what you’ve been up to.”

His heart stuttered again, though this time from that familiar punch of caught.  

Even scowled and turned away from him. “Do you know what the ideal weight for a person of your size is?”

Ienzo was confused; not the lecture he’d been expecting about entropy and danger . “Well--yes--”

“Tell me.”

“What are you getting at?”

“What is a healthy body weight for a person of your height?” His lips were pursed.

“Between fifty-nine and eighty-one kilograms.”

“Do you know how much you weigh?”

“Even, I’ve no idea where you’re going with this,” he said honestly.

“Fifty-four. Fifty-four kilograms with a twenty-year-old’s metabolism.”

It started to click. Even didn’t know about Ienzo’s attempt to regain his power. He thought all these health issues were from-- He put a hand to his head. Ienzo knew the magic was causing him to lose weight. He didn’t think it was drastic or noticeable.  

Which angle to play, then? How did he get himself out of this? He did not want to confess to an issue he did not have, but confessing to use of power seemed infinitely worse. “Even,” he said tiredly. “You needn’t worry about my weight. At all.”

“Oh, but that isn’t all, Ienzo,” he said smoothly. “You think nobody’s noticed that your bed is rarely slept in? That your phone shows you active all hours of the day--and night? Not to mention you barely eat, barely drink water, that I’ve noticed, anyway, and I’m not the only one paying attention. The dehydration, the sleep deprivation, this…” Again he trailed off. “Your blood pressure, the ambient amount of cortisol in your blood… Ienzo, if you keep living like this, you won’t see thirty.”

Ienzo dropped his eyes.

“I don’t know how to impart the seriousness of your condition.”

“I’m not radically underweight.”

He groaned. “It’s not about your weight. It’s that you clearly are neglecting your own needs--and it’s catching up to you. And it will keep catching up to you unless you learn to take care of yourself.”

“I’m an adult, I’m perfectly capable--”

“Perfectly capable? Perfectly capable? You think losing consciousness for the better part of three days is a reflection of health ?”

Ienzo gritted his teeth. A rage began coiling in his stomach. “What does it matter?” he all but snarled.

“Child, I can’t make you want to live. But how else can I convince you that your body can’t, and won’t , react like a Nobody’s? It’s not a vessel, not a plaything. You can’t expect to work if you’re deteriorating so rapidly.” He softened just a touch; bizarre to see it happen. “You can’t expect to live, either.”

Ienzo didn’t know what to say. It felt like getting punched.

“I lost you once. I won’t lose you again.”

“Lost?” The claws were well and truly out now. For the first time Ienzo fully understood what it meant when someone snapped , despite having seen it and forced it on people countless times. It did feel like breaking. “You lost me?”

At his radical change in tone, Even’s eyebrows shot up.

“You…” He couldn’t find the words. “You took my father and you dumped him out, and then you had the nerve--the gall -- to lie to me about it. For years .” He was trembling. “You let Xehanort do to me what he would. You let me see and break those people. You.”

Even had turned very pale.

“And then--after all that--you let him take my heart. You think a kid could make that kind of decision? A fucking child?” Ienzo breathed hard. “I was just another one of your experiments, Even. That’s all I ever was. Admit it.” He’d never heard his own voice like this, rough and on the verge of a scream. “You, Aeleus, Dilan. You didn’t lose me. You threw me away.”

Ienzo didn’t know what to read into that expression--only knew that he’d never seen it before. “Ienzo…” He began tremulously.

“Everything I’ve done…” The guilt was almost stronger than the rage. “You gave me the tools. Why?”

“What?”

“Tell me why.”

“I never wanted him to hurt you. Never wanted you to have that life. But Xehanort… his hold on us… we were so convinced we could… change the world. He told me he wanted to make it better for people like you.” His eyes were pleading. “Seeing all your pain… I thought the darkness could heal. That it could help people. But it twisted me. Made it so much easier to put aside the human for the scientific… made my ends… worth their means. We were experiments too, Ienzo. Do you think any of us had a choice? It was give up our hearts… or become another subject in his plan.” He pressed one hand to his face, his eyes shut tight. “By the time I tried to get us out, it was too late… and being a Nobody cut all my bonds with others, especially you.”

The rage was cooling, hardening, and becoming something far more painful.

“Every time I see your face I think of it. What you could’ve done. Already, already you’re doing so much more good than I ever did.” He came closer to Ienzo. “I had hoped to raise you to be better. When Ansem asked me to help him care for you… you were already all but feral from his ragged childcare. I saw that you were… different, a brilliance I had hoped to nurture. But once the darkness came we exploited you. And I am so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The tears in his eyes were oddly cold.

“It pains me more than I can describe to see you struggle now, as a direct result of my actions. All I can do is hope I can make this place good enough, safe enough, for you to have the life you deserved.” His voice was unsteady. Ienzo had never seen Even cry; part of him didn’t think the man was capable. But the tears on his face were very real.

“...Even.” He felt his lip trembling in an attempt to hold it back.

“I do not expect to be forgiven. I hope that this guilt… will make me better .”

The apology rang dully in his ears. He feared he was breaking again, in a different way this time. Even sat on the bed next to him.

“Let me help you, Ienzo. You are no longer so alone. I wish to earn your trust again… should you so let me.”

It was this that did it, on top of his very exhaustion. Again the tears seemed to run from a deep, awful place in him; the abandonment and guilt and rage mixing into a slurry he couldn’t fight anymore. They broke out of him. He curled up. Despite it all, Even was here. He’d apologized, something Vexen never had done. He was… upset.

So gently, Even reached forward to embrace him. It had been years since he’d last been consoled like this, yet it was so eerily familiar. Even smelled the same, bleached cloth and powder. Ienzo found himself clinging to him. “Just cry,” Even said softly. “Scream, if you need. It might help.”

All Ienzo could do was listen, paralyzed again by his own emotions, but it felt… cathartic? Like the dark things were bleeding out of him, bit by tiny bit. He knew on a literal level it was probably humiliating, to be a grown man sobbing in his old guardian’s arms, but he felt less mortified than when he had broken down in front of Demyx. Even stroked his hair, another familiar gesture. Eventually, eventually… the sobs quieted, calmed, and he could breathe normally. Even got up and handed him a cool, damp cloth for his raw eyes.

“Is that better?” Even asked.

“How disgraceful this is,” he muttered.

“Your system is no doubt out of sorts--and so is your heart. Natural for it to need some kind of release.” He took off his lab coat; Ienzo noticed before he set it aside that the shoulder was quite damp, translucent, almost. “You should spend some time recovering. Sleeping, eating, getting outside.”

“What about Kairi?”

“Kairi and Sora would both agree that this isn’t worth the price of your health. Physically or mentally.”

“But with Aeleus and Dilan pulled away by rounds--” and Even and Ansem seething at one another, “--you’ll be--”

“We’re both grown men, Ienzo. I think we can set aside our differences for the time being.”

“What will I do if I don’t work?” It was more a question to himself than anything; Ienzo truly didn’t know. He’d been working and working for years now.

“Perhaps focus on your own studies? Or…” He considered. “We could have you on in a heavily reduced capacity, say three hours a day?”

Ienzo felt odd. Stripped bare. “This is so humiliating, for it to come to this.”

Even just sighed. “What else would have happened? It’s all you know--working yourself into the ground for things you care about. We raised you this way. But now your cause should be learning to be human. No more, no less.”

It was clear Even was right. If he were to do good, he had to be healthy. Dealing with these emotions and memories should be a priority.

“I’ll give you some medication to help you sleep,” Even said. “And the anti-anxiety. I’d like for you to try both, at least for a time. See how it treats you.”

“...Alright.”

[too-tc]

Hey all!

This week is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week!

So I’ve been suffering from bulimia nervosa for a little over two years now, and let me just say, it’s honestly been a struggle.

In 2017, I weighed around 140lbs but was generally okay with it. I did want to lose weight but found myself too lazy to try. Suddenly, I lost a lot of weight over the course of a couple months cause I stopped eating so much. This resulted in me weighing around 120lbs and my new goal was 115.

To achieve this, I thought my best option was bulimia. I would get to eat whatever i wanted but didn’t have to suffer the weight gain. I thought I hacked the system really. So I got to 115lbs and boy was I so happy. Everyone complimented how I looked and I loved it. But no one, not even myself, knew that I had become a bulimic.

Throughout 2018, I found myself bingeing and purging more and more. But I always thought I had it under control. I’d be able to stop at any time I wanted and I had to worries. Ha, I was so wrong. Two years later and I’m still doing it. There are days where I hated any food in me so I would eat and then purge to get it all out, then going to bed hungry. I’m really bad days, I’ve purged up to ten times. Due to the constant stress throwing up has put on my body, I have hair constantly falling out and it’s not nice. I also had about 4 or 5 cavities in 2018 so that sucked.

Despite all of this though, my eating disorder tricked me into thinking all this stuff was okay. Losing hair was a small sacrifice for maintaining my weight. Even if I don’t want to purge, something inside me tells me I’ll be better if I do.

However, I think I’ve finally broken free some from the grasp of the ED. Ive just gotten, ironically, really lazy and don’t want to hurt myself much anymore. Although I’ve gained weight and am 121lbs, I want to lose the weight the right way this time. Track season has started so I’ll be running and my friend and I plan to run on the weekends.

Don’t say you don’t have an eating disorder. You’re lying to yourself. I have been lying to myself for Two. Years. And it’s only made my life worse. Really think about what that voice inside you is telling you to do and how it’s hurting your mind and body. Take back control of yourself and start the process of recovery. Any step towards bettering yourself is still a step. Baby steps lead to greatness :)

This is my story and I welcome you all to share yours. Reach out to someone if you’re concerned for them! Don’t let them suffer by themselves. I’ve wanted to tell so many close friends about what I’m struggling with and have come out to one friend about it. We became closer through it and she taught me ways to better myself. Dm me if you want to talk or ask a question anonymously. No criticism will be given, just full support.

I love you all so much and thank you for being with me. Don’t forget to love yourself a from time to time!!

[boy-porridge-vent]

Day 1

***Trigger Warning for most of this post!*** :(

 New vent account, I just have a lot to get off my chest, not right now per-say but in general, a lot has happened and I’m not coping well.

To start off, I’ve relapsed into self harm again

Not only cutting, but nearly everything I was able to get myself to stop doing.

 * I’ve begun to cut again, it’s now to the point where it gets deeper & messier each time I have a panic attack/breakdown (whatever the difference is).

* Im scratching & biting a lot more

* Punching myself until I bruise

* Weighing myself constantly, about 3-10 times a day, it’s in secret though since the scale is kinda hidden in my basement ever since my parents took it away

* Ive begun to check calories & count them. Before this past month, Ive never done this before & now it’s almost like a nervous habit! :(

* I’ve relasped into my an*rexia urges again. I’ve been having trouble with my body image & eating since about 5th grade; not to get too personal, but my mom was & still is hard on me, always called me ugly or fat because of an early puberty that made my body change quickly in a pretty gross way. Had a lot of acne since 4th grade;;; anyways, because of all that, and finding Onision, I was obsessed with his UhOhBro channel around 5th grade & took some of his more serious videos related to starvation & self harm to mind and tried it on myself because, despite him having a stone-cold hatred for it, I was a dumb kid and didn’t listen. So yeah, 5th grade I would starve myself or eat very little; 6th grade I kinda stopped but struggled with my clothing choice/identity more; 7th grade I struggled with gender; 8th grade was when an*rexia came back, more severely than ever, but it happened in short bursts over a few months, I also started cutting but very rarely; 9th I was much more happy & settled down just a bit, really figured out who I was; 10th things weren’t exactly the best, cutting came back & began to be more frquent but not deep; 11th was the worst, I’ve now been eating very little ever since school started, first day back wasnt exactly the best & I ended up cutting again for the first time in months moments after I got home.

 A lot more has happened since then and it’s only gotten worse. I don’t know what to do anymore

I don’t mean for any of this to make anybody upset or possibly relapse/get urges themselves when reading all this, I get so sad when I see others struggling too, I always try to help any of my friends or even random people online if they post a vent. I love bein there to support & help, even help get people to come out of serious relapses! But when it comes to myself, I tend to feel no pity, like I deserve this. There’s something wrong with me in my head, this has been gong on for years, every year feels worse than before, and yet everytime Ive gone to my dad, principles, teachers, or school counselors, they never help! They tell me off, saying Im fine, I dont need a therapist because therapists are scammers, or that I just need to be more positive & get over it.

Ive been told this for years, so maybe… it’s just me who’s to blame. Im the only one who sees what’s happening because it’s not really a big deal. I just make it seem wore than it is in my head. I have friends who care & ask if Im okay, ask if they can help, but honestly they cant help. They can support & I’ll vent to them but it doesn’t fix anything, I vent but it doesn’t fix my mind or my empty stomach or my hand reaching for my same used razor. Nothing has helped and I’m worried that after a while Im going to end up killing myself, whether it’s on purpose or it happens on accident when I go too deep. I have a lot I wish to do in my life, but at the same time, with all this shit that’s happened and how my life feels as if it keeps getting worse everyday, I will admit that at this point if I DID die, I guess I wouldn’t be too upset. I am scared of what will happen after death, nobody knows what happens, but I know that I am legally an organ donor, and I do have part of my will typed up in the case that I do die suddenly one day, so I guess it isn’t too bad.

I will be honest, Ive never been exactly suicidal before, but these past 4 months I think I’ve been legitamately suicidal and ready to go whenever I have a breakdown. Everytime I relapse I think of just ending it all right then and there, but then pussy out because I think about my few friends, my followers on other social media, my pets, my plants, and other people I wish to change the lives of in the future. I want to adopt a kid someday and give them what I didn’t get, treat them as I wished to be treated, help them grow up into the person I wish I had by my side growing up. They’d be my child, I’d be their parent, but we’d also be best friends. I wanted to start my own show, my own comic, my own booth at cons, meet so many people, get married, do music, so many things

but honestly, I don’t think I’ll live much longer after my senior year of highschool. I’m planning on finishing this year out, trying to finish my senior year, graduate, then I’ll leave this Earth with a bang. Maybe literally, or maybe through some other way of suicide, I don’t know. I might even do it sometime before I graduate. Not to make people sad, not for attention and pity, but because I can’t continue on like this, and I want the people who’ve wronged me to see what they did. I want those who refused to help, even when I was in front of them screaming & begging them to get me some kind of therapy or help, to see what they caused. I want them to see that I wasn’t just some sensitive crybaby that needed to get over himself, I want them to see that mental illness can run rampant in anybody & they need to be open to helping those who really need it.

 Ive been through so much. Ive been bullied, made fun of by my own mother, neglected by her, pysically/emotionally/mentally/VERBALLY/and even sexually abused by an ex partner of mine, Ive been literally harrassed, Ive been used solely for sex by nearly every single ex of mine, Ive been manipulated/guilt tripped/gas-lighted/made to feel as if my abuse was my fault, Ive been punished by my school for being abused by my ex! Yet everyone who has ever hurt me in these ways always got away with it scott-free. Why? I have no idea. I like to say that they’re let off the hook because I don’t come to school with black eyes, broken bones, bruises, and mascara running down my face. Abuse is abuse, it doesn’t have to have visible signs. Yet, mine does. I have self harm wounds, not because I blame them for making me self harm (as one of my exes once did), but because of trauma I still deal with that stemmed from their treatment of me. I have nightmares about my ex and her treatment toward me. I get SCARED when my mom comes home. I get nervous walking into school. I hate being touhed physically because it reminds me of so many people from the past getting physical and leaving me in the dirt afterward, even when I trusted them with everything. I hate saying I love you to anybody because of how little it means when others say it to me. Many partners would send hearts & “I love you"s, then throw me out like I was garbage.

I’m so tired of it all.

But maybe it’s all my fault. Maybe Im the problem. Im too quiet. Im too much of a pacifist. I hate confrontation. I hate violence. I hate hating people. If Im hurt by someone, even being abused, I always forgive and let them back in, and I get hurt again over and over. But on the rare chance that I dont forgive, when I do hate them with every cell in me, then for some reason, I can’t get them away, I can’t get them out of my life. They’re always around as a constantly reminder of what happened and how I was used and how I will never change, I’ll never be able to stick up for myself.

 if all that is going to happen in my life involves me being used for sex, money, or compliments to make others feel higher about themselves, then I don’t want to be around anymore. But I can’t just kill myself on a whim and call it a day.

I wouldn’t exactly say this is why I self harm, my self harm isn’t a choice, it just… kind of happens. It’s an addiction; scientifically, it has been proven to have addictive tendencies, which is why it’s so hard to stop once you’ve started/relapsed. I self harm because it’s an addiction that I can’t help, and becaue of bottled up, unresolved trauma that gets worse with every new day that I keep it bottled up for.

 This isn’t going to get better. Sorry for typing out so much too. I have an issue with piling all my thoughts and how I feel into multiple huge paragraphs, so there’s much more of that to come.

Also to come, weight updates & keeping track of what I eat/how long I can go with no food whatsoever. So far I’ve gone about 1/ maybe 2??? days straight, though I stayed home today so I did have to eat dinner, which caused me to gain 1 pound. But I lost 4.5 pounds in that day of not eating, so I can lose that 1 pound pretty quickly. Plus my metabolism is very very fast, so even if I did eat a lot I’d lose all that weight in a few hours/a day or two, depending on how much I ate.

This is day 1 of my further decline.

September 01, 2019

[missskinnygirl2020]

another new start

IF you are reading my posts, thank you very much .

I’ve struggled with my weight for many years ,i guess since i hit puberty.

few years ago i was “exercising” I mainly walked everyday .twice a day 3-6 miles a day but sometimes 8 miles . i felt alot better. 

Then again i was having a eating disorder too. i was eating less and throwing up food, i did drink alot more water. 

for this past two years though since ive dated my bf. ive gain weight i was eating out more. drinking more sugar drinks . eating fast food. plus i work in a restuarant so the temptations are there.the food isnt good. its there and ill be hungry and ill pick the unhealthy stuff.

My goal from now on.  to get back on my walking. not tell people about it . because they’ll keep asking me about it. if i dont do it. i feel guilty and ashamed . so its going to be my secret.

I’m going to eat less. or make myself sick.i know most people are like dont do that. thats not healthy,its damaging your body . i know all of it. its not like im doing hard drugs or anything. its not an everyday thing im doing to my body. its just a starter .

Do you have any idea how many compliments i got while i was losing weight. and being “unhealthy” lots.  people compliment me saying wow you lost weight. you look good. you know how little i get compliments on my body? rarely. not even my bf says im skinny. im a short person yes i’m not obese.  I’m 5″2 weighing now around 140 . my eating disorder i was between 125-134lbs. and i wasnt even happy about that. before it i was 138lbs . i want to get down to 124lbs . i just want to get down to 120s . i would be so happy to be down to 118lbs. thats my ideal weight. 

I know theres alot wrong with me. do i want help with my mental health yes. but do i wish i had magic pill that can be given to me look the way i want . yes. 

i know what people are going to say work out going to the gym. get a meal plan. i cant do that on my own. i cant plan things out and stick through it. if it was made for me and i had a trainer. maybe it would be easier . i dont have that push that others have. i have motivations ... but actually push my body , my muscles so difficult. i feel weak. i look at others who can push themselves. i do want muscles. i want a firm body. but i also just want to appear small.

 I am just not happy right now. I saw pictures/ videos of me skinnier. and i miss it. i wasnt like a twig. but i had skinnier legs, slimmer back , less belly.

wish me luck.

i promise I'll post less depressing topics. stay updated 

- MIss Skinny 

[justanotherstory225]

Week 4 check in

Wow. I cant believe its been 4 weeks already. And in those 4 weeks, i feel like ive yet to have a good one. But whatever.

Hopefully, its just the beginning of the year starting out rough, and it will end amazingly. Thats what I'm kreping my fingers crossed for. Last year was rough year of trying to get healthy and i see a difference. It seems like the ms medicine is finally starting to work which is amazing. I havent felt that cant move, exhaustion lately. I'm tired and exhausted, but i can still get up and do things. The beginning of this year is still getting myself healthy and that is perfectly okay!

Back to this week. Its been such an up and down week. I lowered my calorie intake to 1500. I thought i would have trouble with it, but i didnt last week. I did well with tracking all my meals except for on friday. I know 8 didnt eat a whole lot that day, but i cant fill it in because i have no idea what i did eat.

I tried not getting stressed at work last week. I pretty much didnt talk to any of my coworkers unless they spoke to me or if it was something i needed to talk to them about. I wasnt my bubbly self, but i wasnt stressed.

I dis weigh myself Saturday morning. I lost another pound which is fantasic. I feel like the more weight i lose, the harder it is to lose it. Just means i need to try harder. I'm hoping for another 30-40lbs this year.

I didnt work out this week unfortunately. I was going to on friday, but i was just too tired when i got home from work. I didnt sleep well at all this week. Hopefully I'll sleep good this week. I was stretching more this week. I really need to work on my flexibility. I'm going to set another goal for myself. I want to be able to touch my toes when standing up. I need to find a way to take pictures of where I'm at, that way i can look at it to see how far ive come, and so i can share my progress here.

Today, being my selfcare Sunday, i am relaxing in a bath with Epsom salts and oils. I feel like i have been letting my self care Sundays slip a bit. My skin can feel it. My whole body is so dry. My hair is brittle. So thats going to change now. Ive also relaxed today by doing a puzzle, working on a diamond picture, drinking cappuccino, and watching hunger games all day. A non-stressful day.