Anorexia

I've been anorexic for a very long time, since childhood.  I denied it for years and years until finally, when I was pregnant with my first living child, I honestly answered a health questionnaire that I had been and was still struggling with anorexia.  I was driven to honesty by my concern for the health of myself and my baby and it pushed me to admit something I'd hidden from everyone, even my own husband, for years.

At my worst I had stopped weighing myself when I got into the 80s, I know I went lower than that though.  I was a walking skeleton and hideous and yet I would look in the mirror and see my bloated belly after eating or drinking something and I'd feel such loathing and disgust.  I'd pull at the skin that had gone slack because it was no longer filled with healthy flesh and see it as fat.  My ribs and sternum were highly visible, you could count every single little knob on my sternum, and I was just awful looking.  My eyes and cheeks were sunken in and yet I still felt fat.

After the kids were born I was rather fit and healthy.  I'd started running and was very careful with my diet.  I also finally got help for my mental health issues and for a time I felt amazing.  Then my husband returned home from a 15 month deployment, we moved away from an amazing support network and home, and I was suddenly alone and isolated once again.  I ended up moving away from the meds I was taking and was prescribed xyprexa.  I'd taken it previously and it was a wonder drug for me, and when I started it I have to admit that it was a wonder drug once again.

The major side effect I suffered from xyprexa was weight gain.  I went from 125 lbs to 160 lbs in less than six months.  I couldn't control my eating, I was always starving and never felt satisfied.  I ate and ate and ate and then I ate some more.

Then I began to purge.  At my worst I would binge and purge upwards of 10 times a day.  I couldn't control what I was putting into my body and now I was truly fat so I took matters into my own hands and took control over what came out of my body.

Vomiting was my method and a toothbrush was my weapon of choice.

I hid it well, but I really think my husband was just turning a blind eye  when I purged when he was at home.  I always did it in the back bathroom when he was in the living room and far away so I know he probably didn't hear anything, but the endless throat clearing, sniffling, and hiding a bloody nose and bloodshot eyes were glaringly obvious.  He never said anything though.

Fast forward to the divorce and I finally got my portions under control and my eating under control except instead of eating properly I just stopped eating all together.  I dropped 15 lbs in just under a month and people raved about how great I looked and how wonderful the "divorce diet" could be.  Since then I've battled daily with eating and trying to take in calories, but I just can't eat.  I've lost 37 lbs as of today and I can't stop losing.

It doesn't help that when I'm naked I'm told how beautiful or athletic/lean/sexy/etc...I am.  I'm ashamed.  I'm embarrassed that my dirty secret has yielded such desirable effects and that I'm rewarded with praise and admiration.  My boyfriend does admit concern from time to time when I admit I haven't eaten much during the day, but at the same time he pats himself on the back for "fucking me into a size four," something we always joked about.  I never thought it would happen, but it did.

That said, the general pace and activity in my life has increased exponentially.  I work a very physical job where I basically don't stop moving for four hours straight, sometimes longer.  I frequently forget to eat lunch while working and rarely eat breakfast since the thought of food in the morning usually makes me nauseous.  So I typically eat dinner only or a snack and then a very small or late dinner/snack each day.  I'd estimate that I maybe consume 600 calories on a good day and usually less than that.

I'm starting to feel the affects in my level of activity at home, my mental health, and my overall mood.  I'm depressed and cycling downward rapidly, I'm overwhelmed by even the most simple tasks or chores, and I'm having suicidal ideations once again.

But I don't know how to break the cycle.  I can't eat.  I just can't.  I know I'm hungry, I can feel my body begging for food, but just putting food in my mouth makes me feel so sick.  I'm starving as I type this, but my dinner is sitting on the table, cold and untouched.


-- an update from 2015:  posting this helped me immensely.  After I wrote this all out, I showed it to my partner who began to hold me accountable for my eating habits.  Together we worked to get me back to eating healthy.  I'm not perfect about my habits and never will be, but I've learned to eat everything in moderation and to stay active so I remain fit.

Once I started watching my food intake to ensure I was not under eating I actually started to lose MORE weight.  All told, I lost about sixty pounds over the course of three years.  I know I started out cheating by starving myself, but the fact that I turned around and began eating in a healthy manner and then continued losing weight makes me proud of myself.  The fact that I've kept the weight off just thrills me to the core.