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| Name: Ali | Date: Mar 25th, 2006 10:14 AM |
| I would, but just not right now, i am too tired. but i just wanted to let you know i would answer the questions, are they thru email, or just thru the reply, or what? lemme know. sincerely, alicia princesscha [email protected] [email protected] ↑ |
| Name: piper | Date: Apr 4th, 2006 4:47 AM |
| id answer your questions but only if it was through email, let me know, thanx piper [email protected] ↑ |
| Name: Ok, you asked for it! | Date: Apr 5th, 2006 1:11 AM |
| My story starts before I can remember. My mother was always very controlling (she has a story of her own) and my stepfather was always standbackish (e.g. he let my mother do anything and everything she wanted - he was young & inexperienced when he met my mother). S Some of my earliest memories: my mother and stepdad fighting and my mother not eating making my dad feel guilty, my brother and sisters calling me fat (about age 4 or 5 on up), my mother comparing the measurement of her waist to mine and my friends (we were 8), mother telling me no one would ever love me but her, her making me promise to give her my 1st born child, her catching me holding hands w/a girl friend of mine in 2nd grade & calling me a lesbian, her calling my sister a slut for talking to some boys in her class (while waiting to be picked up), etc. My eating disorders started when I was ten. We were over @ my aunt's house playing in the pool and I remember looking @ my 4 year old cousin and thinking how skinny & pretty she was in her pink bathing suit (I was in a t-shirt). I watched my aunt play w/her while my mother was sunbathing on the deck & I wondered what it would feel like to be looked at the way I was looking @ my cousin right then. I no longer wanted to be a part of my life, but of hers. I entered a new state of awareness & became overwhelmed. I got out of the pool, went inside & noticed a bag of marshmallows sitting on the kitchen counter. One by one, I greedily roasted & ate the whole bag full using a fork & their gas stove. Once the bag was empty, I became frightened...wondering what my mother would do if she found out I ate all those marmallows...what look of disgust would I find on her face. I hastily hid the bag @ the bottom of the trashcan & ran into the bathroom. Kneeling before the toilet, I thrust my fingers into my throat & released all my fear. Shortly thereafter, I found that making myself throw up before a test @ school always made me feel less anxious. In 6th grade I came to a new awareness, that I cared about what everyone thought...not just my mother but everyone & I felt like everyones eye was always on me. Their invisible stares began burning holes in my flesh. This is where anorexia hit. What a rush this time was. Suddenly, the brothers and sister that once called me ugly and fat were now saying otherwise. I was constantly being told how great I looked, how much I had grown. It felt good...it made me want to look better. But better never came because it was never good enough...not to me. I added exercise, lots and lots of exercise but no matter how skinny I was, I just wasn't skinny enough. Just when I got below 100lbs (at 5'5") my mother began to catch on and boy was she enraged. After all, she couldn't possibly have a daughter that looked better and skinnier than herself. She began weighing me every morning and telling me if I lost even 1 more pound she was going to tie me down and force feed me & she meant it. She began making me eat with the family (I used to just take the food to my room & give it to my dog), even if was just a sandwich, I had to eat something, so eat I did. Later, I would purge...not enough to lose anymore weight, just enough to make me feel better. Once in high school, my frustrations and fears turned to utter rage. I began cutting to find relief. I hid the razor blade in my diary which was never hidden. I wanted my mother to read it. I wanted her to know what she had done to me, I wanted to rub it in her face and make her feel guilty. I turned to cigarettes, alcohol, and boys to either find or forget that I needed more love than my mother could give me. I tried to kill myself at 16, but it turned out the bottle of dilantins I chugged were expired and I just got a really nasty headache. Moving forward, I joined the Army and, after meeting my current husband and conceiving our 1st child, things seemed to turn themselves around. The dispicable mother that raised me suddendly turned into a kind, caring, giving human being who I could count on and turn to when I was in need. I stopped purging and started holding down my foods. I quit drinking & later quit smoking. But once again, here I am. I guess it's true...there is no cure for an eating disorder, it's chronic. ↑ |
