Fade Into Darkness

Where it all Began..

People say that there's never one solid cause of an eating disorder. It's multiple different factors in a person's life that lead them to the point where they hate their body so much that they starve themselves or purge just to be in control or to loose weight or to purify the body they own. I disagree.
Because for me, although many things led to my eating disorder to develop from the tiny thoughts it was born as into a huge bellowing monster following me everywhere I go, only one thing CAUSED it.
A singular event that happened in my lifetime which may seem like nothing to so many people as it's such a sickening common thing nowadays. However it made everything change for me.
It made food go from being a daily thing I consumed without thought to a word that turned my stomach.

"You're Fat!"

Two words. Just two. But those two words followed me everywhere. From school to the street. From social media to TV. From monthly to weekly to daily those two words were spat at me by friends, schoolmates, strangers, siblings and parents.

The thing is, I'm not going to deny it. I WAS fat. From the age of 9 I was overweight. I was a happy kid with a good relationship with food. I loved cake. I loved sweets. I hated vegetables. That's seen as normal for most kids however for me, it was shamed by so many people because of my weight.
I wasn't overly large. I was only just over the border between healthy and overweight however I was large enough to have a stomach that stuck out like a ball. I was large enough to have a double chin and sausage fingers and chubby cheeks. I was large enough to get out of breath when moving too fast and large enough to stand out.

And what happens when you stand out?

You get picked on.

It's the same for people who aren't fat. People with the most spots. People with imperfections. People with disabilities. People with only one parent. People with less money. People with different skin. Anyone unique is seen as a freak and thrown out of the circle of normality. It's not right. It's not fair. But it's how it was and still is.

In reality, it's often those people cast out of the normality circle with the best personalities and the kindest, purest hearts. Those are the people who understand you and support you more. Not like the perfect, beauty obsessed divas.

I was picked on for my size. I was called names. Fatty, chubby bunny, biscuits, fat bitch, greedy, shameful. Fat. Fat. Fat. FAT.
At the age of 9, I was being abused by children the same age just because I was a bit larger than them.
It's not right, is it?

No.

By the age of 11, you could see it's impact on me.
The bullying hurt and made me hate my body. It led to me hating myself and wanting to loose the weight that held me back from being a loved person. I didnt want to look this way anymore.
I was 11 years old and already on a strict 500 calorie diet just because I was bullied into self hatred. But the thing is, people praised me.
My mother praised me for every pound I lost.
My father encouraged me to continue with the diet.
People at school said those bad things to me much less.
My grandparents told me I looked amazing.
My siblings told me I was finally less ugly.

People praised me for losing weight and at the age of 11, after years of bullying because I was such a fat pig, I relished in that. I craved that acceptance and praise and so even when I was back at a healthy BMI, I carried on.

"It won't hurt just to loose a little more weight,"

That's what I told myself and so I carried on. I kept going. I got praised even more.
"Wow, you look so skinny!" My new best friend often exclaimed.
"You look so different!" My aunt said when I went to see her after 3 months of her being away.
"I barely recognised you! You've lost so much weight!" My old teacher told me after bumping into eachother on the street.

My twelfth birthday came and passed and I still lost weight.

My BMI shrank to the border between healthy and underweight.

"I'm not skinny enough yet. Just a tiny bit more. Only a few more pounds!" And that's where it slipped further and further out of my control...

It seemed so fast. All of a sudden, I was shrinking and shrinking out of my 10 to 11 clothes into 8 to 9 and lower. I didn't mind. As my thighs turned bony and my spine protruded, bruised and battered from the sit ups, I praised myself.

Just a little more, right?

Wrong.

More and more and more I lost until I was a skeletal shell of skin and bones yet it still wasn't enough. It was a war against the thoughts in my head. The logical side told me to stop however the stronger and superior side told me to keep going, I was doing so well.

So I did.

My 14th and 15th birthdays passed quickly and it was only days after my 15th when the questions began.

"Are you ok? You've lost so much weight it's scary!"

"You look pale and bony. Have you been eating ok?"

"Cara, what's going on?"

Those questions followed with phone calls to my parents which led to doctors appointments, leading to a CAMHS refferal until finally,

"Cara has a severe case of anorexia nervosa. We think it's best to hospitalise her for instant treatment as she is at a critically unhealthy weight," and then time stopped. Well, not REALLY but it felt like it. I froze. I barely heard the rest of the conversation as i screamed at the doctor before me.

"NO! NOOOO! I AM NOT GOING! NO!" I fell from my chair, sobbing in agony as the doctors words revolved around me, my boned hands scratching at my arms in anxiety.

"One last chance to recover at home. If not, a Section 2... inpatient.. EDU... recovery... whilst at home we will put in place a meal plan..."

With a sigh of thankfullness, I zoned out through the rest of the appointment.

And that leads us to now.

[EDITED]