I WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK IN RECOVERY AND I KNOW YOU STRONG AS HELL AND YOURE REALLY REALLY REALLY PRETTY AND I KNOW YOU CAN GET THROUGH THIS IM HAPPY FOR YOU AND I REALLY WANNA HUG YOU WHEN YOU GET OUT(: STAY STRONG
AHHHH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I BET YOURE GORGEOUS TOO AND I HOPE YOU LOVE YOURSELF AND ONE DAY WE WILL MEET AND I SHALL HUG YOU
“What you need to do is eat. From the bottom of your heart you know this. You need to eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.
You cannot spend your whole life like this. You can’t, you just can’t. It will be torture. You will be on your deathbed and look back and think ‘what a waste’, what a waste of a fucking life.
Yes, I have no doubt you will be successful— you will have a good job, money, you will run for President and you may win— but you will be an empty soul. A shell. A shell of nothing.
You will strive and strive for success, but you will not enjoy any of it, not even for a day— because you will be so utterly consumed by what you weigh, how big your stomach is, how huge your thighs are, and you will look at every girl on the street and compare and be that judgmental person you despise so much. This needs to stop. This fucking messed up crap in your HEAD needs to stop.
You need to eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.
Yes, you are a normal size, yes you have fat on your body— but you need to goddam eat. You need to accept your body. You have to learn that having a smaller body, might make you a bit happier, but the trade off is that you will not be able to eat—you will be shell.
Do you hear me? A shell.
Do you want to spend your whole life running away from mirrors or any pictures, scared to death that you might actually catch a glimpse of your face and body? What type of life is that? This messed up tortured game needs to stop.
All I want is silence, ignorance, silence— anything. Silence from my mind, the worst enemy I have ever known.
I know the other day you thought:
“What would be the best way to end this journey?”
…and you answered:
“Pills or cutting your wrists”.
This coming from the girl who once simply could not get enough of the world.
Who ran to high school everyday early, as you simply couldn’t get enough of it. Who cried at 19 on an amazing trip, simply because you were so excited about the world, your life and what it could bring.
This girl? This girl? How the fuck did this happen?
But this is it. You need to move on. I need to move on.
Not to death, but to life.
This needs to happen. It has to.
I want to travel the world and cry again about the possibilities that it could bring. I want a great career, to be president and to use my mind for good.
I want to have children who I love, and teach them to love life too. I want to have a husband who I love also, and we will have great conversations together, grow old together, and eat cheese and wine by a fire—and not care about the fucking, goddam calories.
This needs to stop. Not needs to, has to. I am done. I am so done. I need to eat. I know that is the solution.
Eat. Accept. Eat. Accept. I need to eat.”
Your Eatopia website (http://www.youreatopia.com/blog/2013/7/13/you-save-yourself.html)
[insert anxiety attack here]
My flight’s arriving 3 hours late. Now I won’t have time to meet the girls and they’re going to wake up with this random girl in one of the beds. Also I will look ugly because I always look ugly in the morning and they won’t like me as much. (I know these are distorted thoughts but it’s how I feel okay). I want them to like me, I want to make friends. I’m so bloated due to refeeding to the doctors won’t think I’m sick. No one will think I’m sick. I know that I am only projecting my own thoughts because deep inside I feel like I am not thin or sick enough to deserve recovery. So many anxieties are going through my head right now but I’ve got to stay STRONG. Just because I challenged myself to fear foods at the airport and it felt like a binge does NOT mean I am a failed anorexic. I don’t have to be the sickest or the thinnest to deserve recovery. I don’t know if any of you are actually reading this but I promise you I will make this second round of treatment the best months of my life and turn my life around. I have to. I can’t let ed control me any more.