journey not recovery

As a child i struggled with eating in school. Every day, starting in kindergarten, I would throw away my uneaten lunch in the cafeteria room trash. I would go the whole day without eating.I had this deep feeling that being seen eaten was shameful. I felt embarrassed at the meer fact of having a body. Early trauma left this deep sense of shame and worthlessness inside of me and I didn't have the words to explain to anyone. My Anorexia didn't begin with wanting to lose weight or with dieting. It started out as a voice whispering in my ear, "You don't deserve to eat." It seemed to appear just overnight one day, but I know now it had been building for a long time. I was silent in school as a child. My kindergarten teacher called my mother and was concerned that I never smiled. I hid my body in boys' clothes, and learned how to become invisible, a ghost girl, left alone. When I was first in treatment for my cutting I was left with the inability to being...

I remember all the times at Proctor 2 my nurses used to spend with me, trying to get me to eat something instead of waiting til my blood glucose dropped to coma levels and they had to administer glycogen. I didn't think that unless my body was blatantly in crisis that eating was even necessary. Alex would tell me the dangers; that if they ever needed to revive me they would end up crushing my body. He would urge me on with bites of an apple, with juice. Christina would make me hopeful English muffins with cereal pieces glued into a smiling face on top. Mini Gatorade bottles with "Drink Me" signs taped to it like I was Alice, forever trying to grow smaller when they wanted me taking up more space. The days my vitals would drop too low to be allowed off the hall I would gaze through the heavy locked screens, my face squashed against them. I knew I was missing out on friends and the world and whatever it was my life was supposed to be. Swallowed tubes slid down my throat, ...

I'm 34 years old and I've been struggling with what people call "mental illness" my whole life. PTSD, MDD, BPD, and anorexia are the labels they've settled on over the years. They, borderline personality disorder in particular, have been used to control me throughout my life, but labels don't define me anymore. As I've gotten to know myself, labels stopped being part of me, though I'd be lying if I said they don't still haunt me...damage has been done. the mental health system has hurt me as well as helped me. I'll continue getting into that in later posts. Mostly, this blog is to share my journey. I don't label myself as "in recovery" because to me that means something other than where I am now in my life as an adult. I still starve myself. I cut myself badly and frequently, struggle to get through the days. I just got out from another hospital stay just days ago. But I am working towards something like healing, if that exists. N...