My Story - it all started with bulimia...

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TRIGGER WARNING

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It all started with bulimia...

Everything started when I was thirteen. I realized I was too fat. All I wanted to do was lose a bit of weight. You know - like five kilograms or something. But then I got really into the whole dieting shit. Started looking for tips on how to lose weight. Me - being a stupid thirteen year old not knowing what pro-ana is - I started looking at pro-ana websites for tips, thinspiration and all this kind of stuff. It was a really unhealthy obsession. I ended up skipping meals, exercising way too much and whatever I ate, I threw up. That was when my eating disorder started to seriously develop. My stomach shrunk to the point I could barely eat without feeling sick and full. I would count every little calorie I ate or drank. I would refuse to drink anything but water. 

The worst thing was - I was completely unaware of what I was doing. I didn't know there was such a thing like eating disorders. And even if I did hear it once or twice in the media - I wouldn't call myself bulimic at that point. I was just happy that I was losing weight. I didn't care weather it was healthy or not. I just cared about losing weight.

It was a nightmare.

Then I started binging. Which made the whole situation worse. And that's when I started cutting. At first they were just little scratches... But it ended up being almost addictive and I felt the need to do it more and more frequently. It helped me. I don't know how or why, but it did. It helped me cope with binging. I hated myself. I hated myself for eating. And then I was disgusted with myself for what I did after - threw up. And that's the part when I started to get depressed. I started binging and then purging at least seven times a day. That's how bad it was. I used to cut few times a day. My arms were a mess. My legs too. And so was my mind. 

It was scary. My parents took me to a psychologist. She was the best one I've had so far. I trusted her and I knew I could talk to her about everything. After a while I was referred to a psychiatrist - mainly to get me sorted with medication. I ended up being put on anti-depressants, then anti-psychotics. Yes, anti-psychotics.

After I got diagnosed with bulimia nervosa and major depressive disorder, they were unsure whether I have some kind of psychosis. Why? Because I had a lot of psychotic episodes. When I heard and seen things which aren't there - usually really negative. So I started to get worse. The voices in my head made me do things. Bad things. To myself. It was so bad that I was ending up in hospital quite a lot - overdoses. I used to overdose a lot, I still sometimes do. It was all mainly because of my ex-boyfriend, who was emotionally abusive. The voices didn't help at all - that's for sure. Although the ex-boyfriend didn't help me at all even though he knew what was going on with me. He didn't care. He didn't give a flying fuck about me. Even when I was crying to him on the phone - he still hasn't shown any sympathy, didn't offer to help. Instead, he made out that everything was my fault. Even though he was the one that abused me emotionally, cheated on me and lied to me.

It was pretty fucked up. I still struggle. Not as much. Got back on the track, but something tells me I'm getting worse. Although now I have the support I need and a loving boyfriend.

So yeah, this is my story.

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