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I Just Needed Help!

At a very young age I was abused by family and family friends (physically, sexually, emotionally, and severe neglect). It effected me in so many ways. Self-harming, nightmares, scared to sleep, scared to do everything. And most of all scared to fail my family by being overweight.

I was called fat constantly. I restricted foods so I guess I just carried it on! And, I wanted to be perfect like my friends. Who wouldn't, right? My best friend was involved in all this as well, our families were very close.

We started off by only having three meals a day and no junk foods at all. We only drank water. We lost weight but at a very slow pace. It wasn't good enough, so that's where the exercise came in!

Every morning and night we would go for a jog and do sit ups, push ups, start jumps and always pacing! We were praised so much for losing weight. So surely it's a good thing we thought.

At the age of twelve I was sent to live with my real dad. Which wasn't that different. However, my dad noticed I had lost a lot of weight and never really ate, so he was always having a go at me. I felt so confused, I thought it was what people wanted? So why was my dad different, was he doing it to be horrible to me or punish me more? That's what I thought.

I started bunking lessons in school to go for an hour long run, I would return to school drunk, then I would purge because of the calories in the alcohol.

People thought I was mad, and I guess I was in a way, mad to think I was ever going to get to the
weight I wanted without killing myself. So me and my best friend tried to eat just a little more. That did not last long. And we rarely saw each other any more. We were too busy exercising and concentrating on food.

My best friend lost her life to anorexia. Which really threw me off the edge. It was all my fault, because I encouraged her, didn't I?! But instead of realizing what it had done to everyone and mostly my best friend, I carried on, I felt like I owed it to her. It was my fault she was gone. I destroyed her and I deserved it to.

It got to a point where I was trying to kill myself again after her death. After a serious overdose (which I ended up in a coma) I was admitted to a psychiatric unit. It was very secured and all the doors were locked and I felt so trapped and alone. I refused to eat and speak to anyone for two weeks.

I was on a one-on-one program for a while. I didn't realize how sick I was from not eating. I ended up there for 13 and a half months. I saw a lot of people come and go and I had no idea why I was kept there. Was it more punishment?

After 13 long and painful months I started to put trust in certain members of the staff about my
childhood and how I feel now. I was and still am diagnosed with five disorders. I was there for so long and felt safe that I didn't want to leave. I didn't like the whole idea of the hospital but I loved the people and the safety and support I had. I didn't really want to leave.

I managed to get my strength back and force myself to move on. I needed to live a better life and help all those other people with troubles.

I moved into a supported accommodation (which is where I am now) and decided that even though I will always have relapses I will pull through them. But I had concerns, how would people treat me knowing I had been on a section three twice. As far as I knew it meant I was mad, right? How wrong I was. All I needed was help, just like a lot of other people.

I still struggle with eating and self - harming but I'm overcoming it. I'm 16 and it all started when I was five. I have managed to pull through. I believe you all can if you try, even people with worse experiences.

I believe in you, good luck. Get the support you need, because someday you will seriously regret it.

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