Years lost to anorexia I'm a girl of 17, who lost 3 years of my life to anorexia. My family
gradually developed problems. My sibling developed a terminal illness, so
my parents became preoccupied. I just sat in my room, and played by
myself, the unnoticed child. I felt that I might as well not have been
around. I decided to run away. I made it down the lane, before I became
scared. I ran back home, hoping I wasn't in trouble. I rang the doorbell,
and my father answered. He looked confused. They hadn't noticed I'd At 9 years old, my parents divorced. My father blamed me, screamed and shouted at me, told me it was my fault. Just before the divorce was finalized, he "took me on a mini break" with my grandmother. I was taken to the countryside in a large rambling house. They showed me my room, and locked the door. Then, every hour or two one of them would talk to me. They attempted to brain wash me into hating my mother and being sympathetic to my father. I just hated myself. Three meals a day were passed through the door. I left them, threw them out the window, smashed the plates. After that "holiday" was over, I returned home. The divorce came through. My sister was taken to a hospital. I fell into a deep depression. I felt that if I would only been a better daughter and sister none of this would have happened. I decided to punish myself - I chose not to eat. I would run off to school with no breakfast, eat nothing all day. When the evening meal was served, I would make excuses, or "eat it in my room". I progressively grew thinner and thinner. At 85 pounds, with a BMI of 15 my mother took me to my GP. I had learned, from an anorexic friend who I met online, to put weights in my underwear. My reading came as underweight, but nothing to worry about. I carried on with my rituals, my rules, which I constantly broke. My friends became increasingly concerned. They never brought my weight up, but they described me as "a shadow of my former self", "a different girl" and "they still loved me, but wanted the real me back." That struck a nerve. They loved me. Me, not anorexia, me. Not my weight, not my looks. The inside me. I tried my best to beat ana. It has been a struggle, with relapses. I often become paranoid that I'm fat, that I will never be loved. But I ignore the voice, and I carry on with my life. My friends saved me from years of pain and misery. That is love. My mother and I now have a stable and loving relationship. My father and I have no contact. My sister is at deaths door. I just want to get the last of ana from my system. I need her to be gone
for ever, so I can carry on living.
I think this is going to work.
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