Recovery: Ups, Downs and What-the-Fucks

Happy Monday, guys! I hope you all had a good weekend.

Today’s post, by having already read the title, is going to be different than my other ones. I’ve been writing, deleting, and re-writing posts like this for the past month or two, but I think I’m just gonna go with it, since I’m feeling rather well today. I figure if I can help or inspire one person to take the next step to recovery, I will be extremely happy with that.

**Please note that if you are dealing with relapse/recovery, this is a TW before I begin. I won’t go into extreme detail of my self destructive behaviors, but still.

Eating disorders.. Recovery, relapse and everything else along the way.

Growing up, I was always bigger than the other kids, ALWAYS. I was always over fed as child, because I was “cute” when I was chubby. Now, while I was pretty happy, I knew that I shouldn’t have been as big as I was. Going into 4th grade (when my family moved back to California from Japan), I was getting bullied for my weight. I was about 15 pounds overweight for my age.. at the time.

In middle school it wasn’t so bad, just a few people said anything, so I kind of just let my mind rest for the time being. It was horrible, though. Grade 6 I was an adult US size 5/6, in 7th a size 9, and by 8th a size 11.

My freshman year of high school was a scary year, for obvious reasons. I remember missing my first two days for a Jonas Brothers concert, and freaking out because I looked AWFUL. I thought I had a chance of running into Nick Jonas (LMAO) and I was like “Oh my god, he won’t even bother saying ‘Hi’ because I’m way too fat.”.. To me, that’s extremely sad. But, I just loved eating so much.. it was how I was brought up. Over snacking (sweets and cakes were my favorite), seconds on meals, full fat ingredients in everything.. just terrible.
Because I had already hit a size 12, I wanted to lose weight, but I didn’t even know how much I weighed.
I had a routine doctor appointment, and that day I not only found out that I suffered from BED, but I weighed 192 pounds (mind you, I was 14 and 5’2/5’3), my blood pressure was up there, and I was pre diabetic. This really made me change how much I was eating, WHAT I was eating, and I began exercising regularly.
Sophomore year (aged 15/16), I had gone from 192 to 165 and a size 9 jeans again. I was extremely happy about it.. but I just wanted to lose more.
I started following crash diets, but I’d gain even more back until I just gave up.
It was already my junior year, and my depression/anxiety had worsened and my weight had ballooned to 217 pounds because I had began overeating when I gave up, and I was then wearing a size 14/16. I felt disgusting, and I knew I had to make myself happy again.
Senior year of high school rolls around, and I had spent the summer before restricting my calories, and changing the types of foods I ate again. Full fat to nonfat, sugar free options, etc. I was even looking at “thinspo” to motivate me further. By Spring of 2013, I had already lost 74 pounds. I started going out with my friends more, I was off of my antidepressants, I was in my first relationship, etc.. I told my mind everything was okay again. Little did I know I had already replaced one destructive behavior for a handful more.

That year, I was binge drinking, binge eating, binge shopping?!? EVERYTHING. I ended up gaining 44 pounds back, and then another 9. I was extremely unhappy.. with all aspects of my life. With college, with my relationship, with my body.. the list just kept going on. I decided to go vegan (again.. I had gone my junior/half of my senior year..then was pescetarian all after), and I convinced myself it was for the animals. And honestly, it was. But it was also for me. It was my way of restricting again without anyone telling me what I was eating was wrong, because no one really knew what vegan was.
I was on again with the thinspo, with low cal options of mylks, portion sizes, etc. I didn’t even realize that what I was doing was so fucked up, and that it was destroying my body. Before I knew it, I was starting work at my first job, trying to juggle my third semester of school, and just naturally not having enough time to eat.. which I took advantage of. January/February of 2015 I hit the scales at 107 (and ended up losing about 3 more pounds), and this is when people started to worry, and of course I told them that they were being silly and that I was fine. I had already been diagnosed the year before with Bulimia, then shortly after Atypical Anorexia Nervosa, binge/purge subtype. This didn’t do much for me in ways of changing, because I didn’t feel like anything was wrong with me.
Within the next couple of months, I got my tattoo (shown below), my relationship ended, and I had convinced everyone that I was going to be alright.

18579174_208952972950255_799030708_n                                         My tattoo, right after he was finished with it.

Now, the summer was full of more self destruction, trauma (that I am not willing to go into at this time), and, yes, OVEREATING. I had started eating meat, dairy, fish.. everything. In huge portions. Fast food, alcohol, etc. Great, right? No.

October 7th that year, I had made contact with my old friend again. This was immediately after the storm had died out. It felt so nice to connect with someone I trusted, as I hadn’t felt that in months. Eventually (more like a week later), we finally hung out after not seeing each other for almost a year, and started dating just days later (Oh, did I mention I had a crush on him since we were 14? Well.. there you go LOL).
Of course, everything was perfect. Life was amazing, I was working.. all good. But, I started worrying about my weight, yet again. And, yes, me trying to hide my sickness and habits caused tension, problems, etc. It’s not something I would wish on my worst enemy.
Fast forward, we move to Phoenix, I start working, and my weight drops 22 pounds. Again. I’m now 118 and working as a barista.. again. XD with my diet being mostly bagels in the morning and liquids all day, you can only imagine how quickly that happened.. Just within 2 months.

The disaster:

Now, I don’t have a photo of my highest, but these are at 196, 189, and high 170s/low180s.
I also don’t have photos of my lowest weight (both highest and lowest, I never really took photos because I was so disgusted with myself), but these photos are all ranging from 109-116.
These are really when my bones became extremely noticeable.. I had no ass, no boobs, my ribs showed in my chest, and as you can see in the third, my size 0 pants were already baggy and my torso was almost nonexistent.. Not cute.

Today, I am STILL struggling with my thoughts and how I see my body. I am constantly catching myself slip up and needing to set timers throughout the day to remind myself to eat, or that being full is okay and the feeling will go away shortly. I did fuck my body up to the point where I have an iron deficiency and stomach ulcers. My FAVORITE things in life are coffee and spicy foods, which can fuck up my stomach even more because of it. I am, however, slowly but surely getting better. FOR ME. Because *I* WANT!! a great life (as if I didn’t already have the components). I want to go out and not worry about how many calories is in a scoop of ice cream or in my coffee. I want my mind at ease when it comes to food, drinks, etc. I want to fall in love with myself.
Luckily, I have THEE most supportive husband by my side. Although it’s hard to get constant reality checks from someone other than myself, it helps because I know I’m not alone, especially if I start getting bad again.

Me (below), just a few days ago. I’m 22, 23 in December, and currently. I don’t want to focus on numbers, or food, etc., I just want to be able to feel good in my own skin, because it is one of the most rare feelings I get to experience.

Although I don’t hate my body anymore, I don’t love it. But it’s a process. Yes, the weight changes, but the thoughts are constantly the same. My good days do outweigh the bad, though (even with severe anxiety and depression, not medicated), and that in itself is something I’m proud of myself for.

Going through an eating disorder and then, when it happens, recovery, is. fucking. scary. You completely lose yourself and you lose the only control that you had tried to gain. It isn’t glamorous, it isn’t beautiful. It’s a fucked up hell that you HAVE to be willing to pull yourself out of. You don’t have to be alone, though. Please, NEVER feel like you have to be alone, it will only make everything that much harder.
There are so many different kinds of help you can get, but you need to make sure it’s the right option for you. Just know that it can get so much better.. I promise.

Well.. that was only the hardest thing to write.. ever. Haha.

I really hope that anyone reading this knows that they can reach out to anyone, even myself. Whether it’s an eating disorder, or any other mental disorder that you are going through.. you’re really not alone. Once you can realize that, things aren’t as scary as they were.

Take care and love yourselves and your body.. it’s the only one you have. ❤
xoxo, kikis

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