Everyone says they want to recover until they actually have to do it.
Reality: Every organ in my body was failing, and my parents were told to plan my funeral, as anorexia finally seemed to be winning when my weight dropped to 56 pounds.
Me: I’m fine! I’m fat! I hate myself! I’m a worthless person. I don’t deserve help or to be happy. This is my fault.
Reality: Only 1 ½ years later, I stared down at a scale that flashed 221 pounds. Binge eating disorder took the place of anorexia as I numbed out each day in the company of empty food wrappers.
Me: I hate myself! I’m hopeless! I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I don’t deserve help or to be happy. This is my fault.
Reality: Bulimia slowly found its way into my life as I desperately tried to lose the weight. Caught in a binge – laxative – restrict cycle; I hit rock bottom when I swallowed 100 laxatives at once.
Me: I’m fine! This will be the last time I swear! I hate myself! I don’t deserve help or to be happy. This is my fault.
Binge Eating Disorder
I Publish My Unedited Journals Into A Memoir
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