The Devils playground. I am 20 years old, Canadian, Ontarian(?), trying to go with the flow of life. When I am not attempting to put myself in order, I am usually motivating myself to some sort of artistic construction. This is me I guess. curious cat here You think I don't know?
I am going to share a really personal experience with you guys.
Now a-days, on the outside I am a very happy girl woman when it really comes down to it. I go through my spouts of depression, anxiety, unreasonable anger, but really I am happy for everything I have. My friends would describe me as that, “cute stoner girl that’s always there for you.” And I am very proud to hold that title for many reasons.
The first reason being, that people aren’t remembering me by being, “That disgusting emaciated little girl.” And yes, someone once said that to my face.
For around 10 years I have been suffering an eating disorder. It started when I was a child, yes a young child. I don’t exactly remember what my trigger was, but I just remember going to school, elementary and throwing more than half my lunch out, or just not eating it and bringing it home. I would tell my dad the few times he asked that I ate lunch with so-and-so and we all got extra stuff for lunch. The regular lies.
Growing up was tough, it is for anyone. I started smoking at a young age, very young age. My first puff from a joint was shortly after my 9th birthday. My first cigarette was smoked at the age of 12, my first drink consumed at the age of 14. I grew up in a big city, with a bunch of punk rockers and metal heads, most of which were older than me.
Fast forward to the last time I was hospitalized. Or at least just a bit before. I was dating one of the greatest guys I had ever been with, who unfortunately suffered from an eating disorder as well. Through out our relationship we both hid our disorders from each other, secretly he was pushing me to be thin, and I was pushing him. Anyhow, that last stretch was my worst. I was surviving off of less that, believe it or not 50 calories a day after him and I broke up.
It was a very rough break up, at a very bad time in my life. Everything was going downhill to begin with, and I had thought he would be my rock, my grounding to keep me holding on. Everyone deserted me in that time, but I also pushed them away. I was losing weight far too quickly, and thanks to a very special friend I ended up in the hospital again. That was the last time, I am hoping never to relapse again. I weight less than 90 pounds when I hit the hospital.
I can remember sitting in my room, it was a four bed room. There were three other people in there that were amazing people. I wasn’t eating in the hospital because the food was nasty and chalky, and of course I didn’t want to eat to begin with. I can remember looking out the window after I asked them to open my blinds. Most of my time was spent at that window while I was there. Suddenly a pain took over in my stomach, it was way too much to bear. I was trying not to scream or yell, I was scared. The pain was so terrible I honestly thought I was dying.
The nurse came in to check on me, and when she saw my face and the sweat and everything else she immediately started questioning me. I told her my symptoms and she smiled and shook her head, sitting down on the bed beside me. She put her hand on my knee and looked at me and all she say was, “Hunny, that’s hunger, those are hunger pains. In your state they can be that terrible. You have to understand that you body is dying right now, your organs are slowly giving up, and your body is doing whatever it can to get you to eat.”
To be honest, that was the first time I can remember feeling real hunger since I was a kid.
After that I went home, I called my family. I ripped one of the biggest sesh’s that I have in a long time for the soul purpose of getting that magic stoner stomach that seems to move into your legs. I went down to the small grocery store, picked up anything that looked good(and you stoners know what grocery shopping stoned is like xD) and went upstairs and ate until I couldn’t eat anymore.
It took me months before my body stopped rejecting foods. And in those months I went through a lot of time thinking that I was a lost cause, that I should just give up and die already. I thought my body gave up on me with the way it was rejecting any try to get nutrients into it. With the help of some very special people on Tumblr, and my family who I am so happy accepted me back, I am now up to a normal BMI. I mensturate, which is exciting because I have always dreamed of someday having my own family, even though the doctors tell me I likely wont ever be able to have children on my own, they told me I likely wouldn’t be able to enter shark week again either. I have hope for the future, energy, friends that I never would have ever dreamed of having when I was a corpse, and a life I couldn’t have had when I was Anorexic.
I thank whatever power out there for giving me a second chance, and allowing me to change my ways.
