Today was supposed to be good day. We were going to a cook out with my husband's family. I have been looking forward to this all week. I was having such a good day yesterday. I ate breakfast and dinner. HUGE breakthrough for me! While I was getting dressed today, it set me back a lot. I was going to wear shorts and I was shocked that I fit in to a size 0. But I didn't feel like I should have fit in to them. I felt gross and huge. It took me 2 hours of crying and throwing clothes before I finally just put on jeans and a sweatshirt to hide my body. I don't know why I can't shake this hatred for my body. My mom kept telling me I looked cute and all I could think was "Are you fucking blind?" Ugh! I can't take feeling this way about myself anymore. I have good days and bad days now that I finally started to slowly open up about my disorder. But it feels like every time I have a good day the next day isn't just bad, it's horrible. I just want to take scissors to my body and slice away the fat, cut by cut. I realize how insane that sounds. But I also realize how intense it feels.
For someone who has never suffered from the uncontrollable and confusing urges to harm themselves, this is not easy to understand. For me, it's my reality. For me, it's torture. It's pure fucking hell.
YOU ARE READING
Starving For Help
Non-Fiction"I smile everyday. I live my life like nothing is wrong with me. No one would ever guess that I'm screaming inside or that I've secretly been hiding this huge part of my life. No one would ever know that I cry myself to sleep at night or that deep d...
