To whom it may concern,
This is not a pro-ana blog, in any way, shape, or form. This blog is a way for me to connect with other lunatics like myself and find some support.
If you've found this, and are trying to "get" anorexia or an eating disorder, I respectfully request that you leave. Right now. Before you screw up your life completely.
Because, make no mistake, you WILL screw up your life. Forever.
There's no going "back" to normal, whatever normal is.
And this?
This is hell.
Examples?
My first thought every day when I wake up is about my weight. If I've lost, I'll probably have a "good" day, which consists of exercising a ton and eating almost nothing. If I've maintained, I have the potential for a good day. If I've gained, I only hate myself more, and will either have a "really good" day and eat nothing at all and exercise more, or think "screw it all, I'm a fat whale anyway" and eat enough so that I'm literally in pain. Maybe I'll purge it, maybe I won't.
At the time of this posting, I weigh 82 pounds. BMI 14.5. I have the heartbeat of a corpse, my toes and fingers are blue, my hair is falling out, I'm growing a fur coat, I have not felt properly warm in months, my body is covered in bruises from knocking my sticking out bones against things, my muscles are eating themselves, my metabolism is probably permanently screwed up, I haven't had my period in months. I look like death, according to people who are blunt enough to tell me. According to me, I need to lose some more weight.
I love to run. Cross country was my life. Just today, my coach wouldn't allow me to race because my legs gave out during our warm-up run and I was shivering so badly that my teeth were chattering.
I love my family and friends. I've alienated them so much it's almost unbelievable. My family, when they finally notice how skinny I've gotten under the layers, will be worried literally sick. My brother needs surgery and I am just a selfish brat who wants to be thin. My friends hardly ever ask me to do anything or hang out anymore, because I won't eat, and if I do, I'll have a panic attack. They spend all our time together trying to force me to eat, and I get angry at them for it. I have a boyfriend who loves me a lot, and last night he put his hand on my waist, where my hip bones stick out. Remember, this is the guy who adores me, and he took his hand away and shuddered. He tried to hide it, but I noticed, because I was avoiding another friend who was trying to make me eat.
My best friend in the whole world also has an eating disorder, and I am watching her die in front of me, as I die in front of her.
Yes, this is death.
This is death because I can see all this, and I don't want to recover. Or maybe I just don't think it's possible. I caught myself thinking the other day, "I'll get help when I'm skinny enough to count as a real anorexic." What the heck is a "real anorexic" if not me? And more importantly, will I ever look at myself and think I'm skinny enough to need help? No. It won't happen.
So, read this. Read this well. If you still think this life is glamorous or "just a diet," then I cannot help you. I can merely hold your hand when you too have reached this point and we can be together in this hell. If this terrified you, good. Leave now, stop googling "pro-ana," start a healthy diet if you really do need to lose weight, and learn to love yourself if you don't.
And when you're truly happy, think of us trapped down here in this fun-house mirror full of lies and scales and hunger and hate.
Love always,
Posie
