A Weekend Away

As the sun begins to peak its head over the modest houses and tall trees in my neighborhood, I can feel my heart begin to pound and my thoughts begin to shoot through my mind. For months I have been fretting about the events that will take place this weekend and now in just a few short hours, the plans that have been made will commence.

About an hour or so away, there is a place known as Pine Lake. It’s a well-kept Methodist campground complete with three cozy two-bedroom cabins and one large house. Every single summer for as long as I can remember, my family and I would pack our bags and head straight for Pine Lake to enjoy the last weeks of summer vacation bliss. When I was 9 years old, one of my greatest companions and her family (which my parents know extremely well) began to join us on our vacation. I enjoy every single second of the vacation. My mouth seemed to be permanently stuck in a genuine smile as my family and my friend family giggled, laughed, and played games. But then anorexia took my brain captive and my feelings for all vacations were drastically altered. No longer did I like the idea of venturing away from my home where my life my perfectly predictable. I am sad to say that this feeling hasn’t changed.

Now my family has concocted a relatively new tradition – going to Pine Lake in the bone-chilling winter with my friend and her family. Though my true “unanorexic” self is excited and happy to have some RNR in the middle of nowhere, a majority of myself is consumed with fear and negative thoughts. The idea of being constantly trapped in a social situation and having to ingest meals with family and friend, make me so incredibly nervous I want to throw up.

I know I should try to be more positive and allow my anorexia-free self to shine through, but I am just so scared. I wish sometimes I could take a pill and heal my broken mind so I can be the wonderful little girl I once was.

They Say this Doll Causes Anorexia. I Say that’s a Bunch of Bull

It seems like nowadays people are blaming everything for causing innocent children, teens, and adults for being a victim of Ed. They point there fingers at twig-like models, the diet industry, and the media’s heartless portrayal of people stricken with obesity. Now don’t get me wrong. I believe that all of these factors don’t have a positive effect on the body image of today’s generation, but do I believe they are the soul cause of eating disorders? Of course not! Eating disorder are the result of genetic predispositions and environmental triggers like traumatic events for example. Saying the media causes anorexia is like saying you’ll get cancer if you eat that conventionally grown apple. Overkill? You bet!

So that is why I got quite frustrated when I saw one of my fellow recovering anorexics post on her Facebook a link to an article about a doll that supposedly causes anorexia. The doll is not some sickly skeletal Barbie. It’s actually an adorable electronic baby doll created by a European company called Nenuco. You may be wondering why eating disorder specialists are outraged by the creation of this cute toy for children. Well the reason why folks are getting so uptight is because this doll refuses food when you try to stick a little plastic spoon in its mouth. It does eat however if you put the plastic spoon in the right way. This doll is suppose to reenact the difficulties mothers face when they try to feed their stubborn infants mushed carrots. Eating disorder specialist believe though that the dolls stubborn I’m-not-going-to-eat attitude will cause children across the globe to turn into emaciated skeletons.

I honest think those people who are saying that bullshit are going way to far. For god sakes, it’s a doll that is simulating what mothers go through each and every mealtime! Do you see mothers coming down with bulimia or anorexia because they see they can’t get their baby to eat a jar of Gerber? No!!!!!!!!

Little girls long to reenact what they see their moms doing and what of those things happen to be getting their kid to eat their food. So let’s stop the paranoia people and end blaming the world for our or our loved-ones eating disorders!

A Dark Disappointment

Yesterday my sick mind entered a very dark world. Thoughts of pricking my snow-white skin with thick needles, cutting up my fatty arms with scissors, and even attempting to end it all invaded my mind.

Why was I consumed with these ominous and potentially fatal ideas? It all began after my dad fetched me from school at 3 in the afternoon. I wasn’t feeling the best but I pretended to be ok. I told him school was fine even though the truth was I despised every second. I even said I was feeling well despite the fact my pain was nagging me.

As we got closer to the place that is suppose to be my home, my dad told me something I was hoping to never hear. He told me that my X-rays came in and the doctors have no idea what’s wrong with me.

I pretty much had a breakdown in the car and cried for hours. I wanted those damn X-rays to show something abnormal. I didn’t care if it would show that my body was suffering from a condition that could steal my life or if it just proved I had some benign ailment. I just wanted them to find something so I can close the book on my “mystery diagnosis” and stop suffering psychologically from the worsening pain.

Now I worst fear is that people are going to stop believing and pass me as some spoiled adolescent just looking for some extra attention. I also fear the doctors think my struggles are psychosomatic and that I am nothing but some hypochondriac.

I am fighting a battle that I don’t think I will ever be able to win. So I guess the wise thing to do is to just surrender an let my impassive enemies take me captive.

12 Days Cut off from the World

I can’t believe that it has been almost two weeks since I expressed my most hidden inner feelings on this blog. I really have no good excuse for not keeping you all updated. All I can say is that for the last 12 days I have been trapped in an never-ending ocean of depression, anger, and anxiety. My short temper has ignited brutal battles between my parents and I. My anxiety and depression has caused me to seclude myself in my disgusting, hoarder-like bedroom because I don’t wish to deal with the pain of the outside world. I think what made my emotional rollercoaster even more turbulent was my visit to the rheumatology clinic at Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin. This visit was my second and though I do finally feel the impassive allopathic specialist took my physical condition slightly more seriously, I am still disappointed that I am lacking an official diagnosis.

The importance of a physical diagnosis is not only important to put my mind at ease, but it is also important for my high school. You see, the inflexible administrators at the school sent my parents a notice that I was TRUANT due to my sick days and doctors visits. As you can guess, my parents were absolutely infuriated but not at me. Instead all their anger and frustration was targeted at the school. My parents could not understand how the school could label me as truant when they have CLEARLY informed them of my health issues and have even sent a multitude of doctors notes. My grades are also incredibly good and I don’t dress like a gangster, which obviously does not match the profile of a chronic skipper. My parents are going to be speaking with the school administration in order to inform them once again, this time using some pretty strong words, of my health issues. Hopefully that will get them to shut the hell up.

Yep . . . well that’s all I got for you guys. I wish my life was a little more interesting so you wouldn’t die of boredom reading this post, but what can I say, I am not that exciting of a person.

Hope everyone is doing good 🙂 Stay strong and keep your head held high 🙂

A Child from Hell

For a lot of people, a day off from school due to sub-zero temperatures is a time where families will find something enjoyable to do. Maybe some will crowd around the television set and watch a classic movie that touches the hearts of all generations. Some may host a family game night filled with genuine smiles and priceless laughs. Or maybe it’s just one of those days where sitting on the coach together sipping huge mugs of rich hot cocoa is just what the doctor ordered. My family on the other hand didn’t do any of these bonding activities. Actually, we didn’t do anything even remotely close.

So what did we do?
Exactly what my family does best. That’s right . . . we fought.

Though all fights in my family tend to be quite horrible, this bloody attack was particularly abominable. Not only did this battle include verbal assaults tainted with words infected with hatred, it also included severe physical brutality.

It all started when I came back from a therapy appointment. It wasn’t like this appointment was extremely difficult, but it was tiring. I talked about my horrendous Christmas vacation (which was more like a Christmas hell than anything else) and discussed the embarrassing incident where my father caught me purging. I also mentioned the ridiculous medical shit I am going through which filled me with anger and frustration.

When my dad picked me up from my therapist’s office to take me home, I expected my dinner to be prepared. I just wanted to go home and see everything was completely normal and on schedule, just as they belong. But when I asked my father if he had completed dinner, he said he was too busy to do so. I was greatly angered by this. It was like the piece of straw the broke the camel’s back.

By the time we got home I was engulfed in rage. Incredible amounts of adrenaline pumped through my fat veins causing whatever logic and coping skills I had to instantly disappear into thin air. As I angrily prepared my bland, tasteless dinner, my dad informed me about the fact that I had TWO FUCKING doctors appointments the next day (one for eating disorder shit and the other for my mystery ailment). That’s when I completely turned into a child from hell. I screamed and threatened to cancel my appointments using my online health account. My mother immediately acted upon this threat and barged into my room to remove my computer. I tried to grab it from her and I wouldn’t let go of her. Yelling at the top of her lungs my mom screamed for me to let go but I wouldn’t dare give up. My overweight father then raced in and using his gigantic hands, he pulled me off my mother. Somehow though, I broke free of his grasp and took hold of my mother’s arm. That’s when things got bad. My mom then kicked my legs and flipped me onto my back.

I hit the floor hard and I found my self unable to move or stand. My body was consumed in horrendous physical pain. My mom screamed at me that that was what I deserved and commanded me to get up. Like I said, I couldn’t. Though I told my legs to move, somehow the message was getting lost. After at least 5 minutes of me laying motionless and breathless, my mom dragged me to my bed and threw me on it.

Eventually I unsteadily and painstakingly got out of my bed and nibbled on some food. I remember my parents tried to talk to me and I remember the words “I’m sorry” coming out of my mouth, but other than that, the rest of that night was a complete blur.

All I know is that I went to bed knowing one thing . . . that I was nothing but a reprobate, devilish monster, a child from hell.