It ain’t always easy
when you’re trying to figure out who you are. Especially if you’ve always been
a troubled kid with nothing better to do but to get on other people nerves.
I remember always being somewhat different
than the rest of the kids around me. I’ve had
troubles making friends, I wasn’t happy with the way things were back in
the days, I’ve had anger issues ever since I remember and a bunch of other
stuff that was making life pretty difficult for me. So in 7th grade I’ve
decided that since I was always trouble I might as well just pursue that. But
it didn’t all go as smooth as I imagined.
Being chubby was always a part of who I was
and honestly I’ve never put much attention to it. Until I was 13. I became obsessed
with magazines, models and especially rock stars. My walls were covered with their pictures and
I was in love with one in particular. After a while I’ve studied every single
part of his life and found out he liked “only” skinny women, I’ve decided to
become one. My weight loss started off slowly. I stopped drinking coke and
eating sweets and I started walking an hour every day. I lost about 40 pounds
like that in four months. When we had to go to the doctor’s in 8th grade
he told me that it would not be a tragedy if I lost I few more pounds
(regardless that my weight was ideal for my height) and I took his words very,
very seriously and that was when I stopped eating carbs. Every day my meal
looked the same: a piece of turkey and a
salad. That was the only meal I has per day plus I started running and doing all
kinds of exercises.
Soon it all summed up in an endless circle
of anger and frustration. I cut off all of my friends (at least the ones I had),
I started driving my parents crazy, I had no idea who I was anymore. It wasn’t
long before the teachers noticed that something was very wrong with me, so they
called my mom and at the time I thought that was the worst thing that could
happen to me. She immediately dragged my ass to the doctor’s and I made I deal
with him I’ll stop losing weight and that I will work on myself and my
outbursts. Of course that wasn’t happening in any time soon. The weight kept
coming off and my mind became darker every second. I lost it. The second time I
went to my doctor I was obviously skinner and more depressed since my first appointment.
He decided it was best for me if I go to a psychiatrist. By the time I got there I was
getting close to my 14th birthday thinking I was old enough to start
smoking and die fast. I wanted to be dead because it was so hard for me to deal
with my depression. Three days before my birthday I was hospitalized and my
world broke down. They diagnosed me with anorexia nervosa and I had to stay in
hospital until I gained the weight I needed to be healthy.
I remember being
so angry of everyone they could barely calm me down. Days turned to weeks and
weeks turned to months and it’s true I wasn’t just bones anymore, but I was
still fighting my inner demons.
To be continued…
