insecurities

Officially August. 8 months into 2013. 9 months since I was diagnosed. Honestly, I didn't expect it to take this long, really. When I officially decided to recover, I just thought: Hey, I'm just gonna eat everything I like, I'll eat all the food I love and just gain weight really fast and get diagnosed quick!

If only I knew.

Being in SGH, my doctor kept telling me: Okay, by the time I see you next visit, you should have gained xx kg and that'll be healthy weight, so you'll be back to sports and just need to maintain your weight and be discharged! Sounded like a good plan, yes? Sounded so easy. Definitely easier said than done. I kept plateauing at a certain weight, refusing to lose or gain. My safe number, should I call it? I just couldn't leave that number- I wonder if it's because I was scared of going past the number or if I really couldn't. I didn't like the pressure of having to gain 0.5kg per week. I hated being threatened to be put on supps. I detested the treatment I was being given; all weight, no care about the mental health of the patient at all. That's why I decided to stop treatment at SGH and start at a private clinic. And all was good until my most recent appointment. "If you don't gain xx kg by the next visit, we'll have to put you on supps." What kind of joke is this-the first thought that came to my mind. I left SGH, to be given less pressure and more priority on my mental recovery. Isn't anorexia also a mental disorder? Isn't it more of a mental disorder than physical disability? A patient could be eating anything-fast food, carbs, protein, sweets, desserts- but what was the point if she consumed all this food with thoughts raging through her mind of the guilt, the calories, the insecurity? So to transfer to a private clinic, to pay outrageous prices for treatment, really, was this the result I was going to get? To just get the exact same treatment I did in SGH? WTF. Don't play this type of game with me, really. If I ever get back on supps again, the thoughts that go through my mind.... I can't handle them. I can't handle just having the thought of drinking them again.

I don't think I'm strong. I don't feel like I'm doing particularly well, I don't feel like I'm really doing my best. I don't think I'm as good as people think I am. But even the effort I'm giving now seems to be reaching its limit, I've been so tired out lately. I haven't felt this way for quite some time; only since I was issued this new warning. Maybe it's a combination of stress from school as well, studying too hard, making sure I ate all my meals; I'm not sure either. All I know is that I feel done. Just this week, I feel like it's too much, like the pressure is just weighing down on my shoulders. Sometimes the thoughts just make me want to break down and cry. But I can't. If I cry, I feel like I've lost a battle. I'll feel so lost after that, unsure of what to do. "Where do I go from here?" is often the question. I really don't know what to do now. I can't move forward; I can't go back. I'm stuck. It's like my plate of rice. Whether I liked it or not, on and on, spoon by spoon, each mouthful I had to take. I do my best to finish, really. But this week, I nearly started crying having to finish my food. Why did I have to eat when I wasn't hungry? ED constantly nagged. My body seemed to support this statement by voiding me of my appetite. It didn't help that thinking of studies, work, tests, friends, triggers, basically anything; was enough to make me lose my appetite. Sigh, don't even get me started on triggers. Why do people post such triggering comments. Why do they say such things. It's not their fault though; they don't know how much it actually affects me inside. My biggest triggers, which are ironically also my biggest aids in school, are my classmates. While most of my classmates eat whatever they want, as much as they want; a number of my close friends still keep insisting that they're fat although they aren't, that they eat too much although it's a perfectly normal amount for an athlete, that they need to eat clean. People who don't eat fried food, sauces- to me, I immediately register that as ED. But my friend insists she's just eating healthy, and I can't comment further. Left eating silently as thoughts consume me entirely. But yet, I still force each spoonful into my mouth, telling myself that I need this.

Often, I wonder what'll happen once I reach healthy weight. Once I'm allowed to have control over what I eat again, I fear what will happen. As of now, I can't help but fear that I'll go back to controlling my portions again; I feel like I'd start cheating again. I feel like if I wanted to restrict now, I'd still be able to and not feel bad about it. All these ED thoughts-why do they refuse to go away?

Recently I started talking to a few more people with ED, and sometimes talking to them made me frustrated. At their reluctance to change, at their lack of courage, at their obvious ED thoughts and habits. But I couldn't say a thing. Because I used to be exactly like that too. Thinking back to those times when I had been fully possessed by ED, by that monster, doesn't actually seem far away. As of now, it's kept at the back of my mind, as far away as possible, but I can't help but feel it seeping into my conscience time and again, inflicting its hurt on me, making me feel so guilty. But I know I mustn't let it affect me. I can't tell others to eat, and not do so myself. I can't tell others that they can do it, if I don't do it either. In a way, the ED community helps me so much because I imagine having an obligation to everyone there; who looks at my photos and thinks of me as someone "doing so well", that I can't cheat them of their belief in me. It's what keeps me going. And yet also what makes me falters. A double-edged sword. But one thing I'd never regret about having an ED? Getting to meet so many people, whom with some I can gladly call my friends now. People who know what it feels like, people who feel what I feel, have felt what I felt, been what I've been through, know the challenges. I know what it feels like when it seems like no one understands, when no one knows. But the truth is that there are people who know what it's like. And sometimes, although it seems like a better idea to keep all your problems to yourself rather than disturbing others, it's definitely better to release stress to someone; to tell them your problems, insecurities, and let someone know. Someone will be there. No one can ever truly be alone. I am definitely someone who would rather keep to myself, not wanting to burden others with my redundant stories and useless comments. But I know it's just a can of soda waiting to explode; soon the pressure is going to be too much, soon I'll just explode if I don't let go. And that's what'll happen if you keep it in for too long too. Don't.

I think I'm much more insecure than anyone knows, than anyone thinks. The thoughts in my mind rampage on, leaving a blazing trial of burnt marks ingrained in my brain, leaving me to collapse on my bed each night, exhausted, worrying. Everyday is just a series of contrasting remarks: I want to eat. I'm not hungry. I want to gain weight. I'm scared. I want to be normal. I want to have control. VERY often, I think to myself: "Ugh this is so annoying, I'm just going to eat anything I want. I don't care if I binge." But as soon as the thought comes, it fades; "You can't lose control. You can't. You'll become big, you'll become huge." I don't know anymore. This fight is so hard. How long more must I fight? I feel like I'm in the Korean war; never-ending.
It's such a repetitive cycle. But it's so hard to break out of. I can't. I FEEL like I can't. I don't want to, I'm so tired. A part of me just wants to sleep forever. But a larger part of me forces myself to peel myself out of bed everyday, savaged and brain-dead, carrying out daily duties. Day, after day, after day. I want to escape. I want to leave. Sometimes, so rarely, the thought of just really LEAVING peeks into my mind. But I don't want to consider that option. I want to live. I want to live NORMALLY. But to think of myself being normal ever again....I wonder how long that'll take. I'd look at my female teachers, late 20s to 30s, starting to grow a small tummy. And yet they still eat anything they want, obligating themselves that they're growing old; that their metabolism is slowing down. Often, I wish I was at that age now. The age that I can just eat anything I want, just get fat, and no one would care.

Even more times than not, I feel like I'm being used. Like people only talk to me when they need me. I think this is quite a normal feeling amongst a few of us, it's not the first time I've heard myself say it. I don't think I'm important to anyone, I don't think anyone needs me. Ah. It's usually here where the really negative thoughts break in, wrecking all havoc, bringing tears to my eyelids. I need to stop thinking like this. I don't want this. I don't want to be a negative, depressed-thought-consumed 16 year old girl. I want to be free. I want to be appreciating my youth, I want to be happy. And often, my only consolation is that even if I have to be alone, I'll let myself be happy alone. Even if no one needs me, I'll live. And I'll recover. I'll defeat this monster in me. I'll be Vivien again.

I'm not all happy-go-lucky, I'm not perfect. Oh man that just sounded so attention seeking. Okay this is such an attention seeking post. ugh. okay end of word vomit, it's too much. I'm usually much more positive than this but really....just needed to spill this. Is it so hard to ask for a hug ;/ even from my parents......this fate of mine. why did I let myself wind up on this path.