I miss having an eating disorder…


I have a question; is it wrong or abnormal to miss struggling with an eating disorder? I know that sounds strange and probably also sounds like I’m still struggling with it. I don’t necessarily miss the starving or calories counti…no that’s a lie. Yes I do. Okay, let’s just break this down a little bit.

When I think of my past with the eating disorder, I don’t get that sense of pride for having “beat it”. When I think about my past behavior, past addiction, I actually almost miss being anorexic/bulimic. The main reason being, I never felt as if I reached the stereotypical physical image of someone who is considered to be anorexic/bulimic, like I didn’t reach my “goal weight” or goal “appearance”. As if I was striving for something but never actually got there, like I had failed. I see images of girls (and I say girls because I am a girl so naturally those are the images I was looking at) and I feel like I failed. I feel like I wasn’t really anorexic because I didn’t look like them, not yet at least. I was on my way there, but I got stopped in my tracks. The weird part about that is I wasn’t stopped by someone else like a doctor or a friend or even a family member, I was stopped by myself. So, that essentially means I knew I was sick and I didn’t want to keep getting sick so I asked for help. I didn’t want to look like that or be like that. Why is it then, that looking back, I feel shameful? I feel like I failed? Shouldn’t I be proud that I stopped myself before it got so bad?

The other reason I feel as though I miss being sick, miss having an eating disorder, is because it gave me a sense of identity. It gave me something to work towards, a reason to get up in the morning and keep going, because I had a goal. It was an unhealthy goal, a life threatening, dangerous goal, but it was a goal. It was me. It was all that I was. Even though I had other passions, other desires, a common sense level smart enough to know that it needed to stop, the eating disorder was my identity. Almost like a secret identity…actually…exactly like a secret identity. Nobody ever knew I was sick. Nobody knew I was counting calories. Nobody knew that eating an apple freaked me out because it has about 100 calories. ED gave me an identity, a purpose, and a goal. Taking that away, I’ve lost such a big part of myself and I am struggling to find things to replace it with.

So, if someone reads this and can give me some answers as to whether or not it’s normal to “miss” an eating disorder, I would appreciate it. If someone would clarify why I feel that way or what your interpretation of what I’m saying is, I would love to read your responses and get some feedback.

p.s. I’m not looking for counseling, I have a psychologist I can call if I need to. I’m really just ranting and wondering what you all reading this think. I am not in any danger, I have no intentions of going back to ED behavior. These thoughts happen somewhat often and I just wanted to share them and get some feedback on them.

Let me know what you think!


This is stupid.


It just brings up bad times when nobody was listening to me

I was asking for help and nobody heard me.

And then when they finally did, nobody knew what to say.

Nobody ever knows what to say to me.

All they want to do is apologize or say nothing at all.

I don’t even know what I need, so I don’t expect someone else to.

I’ll be fine. I always am.

Is this a loss or is it anxiety…


When I think about my best friend getting married, it worries me. Not for him, but for me. You see, my best friend is in the military. He has been for several years now and in those several years I have only seen him once. That guy who I knew in high school, who was there for me when I was at my lowest and who supported me while I tried to get to where I am today, he’s no longer around. He tries to be, and I am not made at him, nor do I have any negative feelings towards him. He kind of has the best excuse in the book honestly…I mean, the military is a serious gig, it’s a life altering job. I am proud of him, proud of who he has become, proud to know him, but I am sad that I’m losing him. Maybe I’m not, maybe this is my anxiety talking, but now he’s engaged. He’s engaged to an amazing girl who is so perfect for him and I could not be more thrilled for them, but with that comes what feels a lot like a loss for me. He’s my best friend, and I’m not even sure that his fiance knows I exist. When he gets married, am I going to be at his wedding, or am I just going to see it on Facebook? I guess I am just unsure of where I stand at this moment and whereas I am THRILLED for him, like genuinely, truly thrilled and proud and excited for him, I’m scared that I am in the process of losing yet another friend. Even if it would be for a good, valid reason. That fear…it’s a lot sometimes.

Tonight I want to throw up


Tonight I want to throw up.

Tonight I feel sad and I feel overwhelmed by the thought of what I ate tonight.

The intrusive thoughts of him making an appearance.

Tonight I feel like crying.

I’m supposed to stop and observe the facts right now to help, so I’m gonna do that.

I wasn’t feeling this way until I started thinking about food tonight and him.

I ate very well tonight. I’m wanting to throw up because I ate ice-cream followed by chips and salsa. My stomach does not hurt, it’s a mental feeling. I want that unhealthy food and those calories out of my body. However, the facts are that the amount of ice-cream I ate wasn’t all too much, and the chips and salsa, the same thing. Neither were a lot or in an excess. They were just all at once, too fast. This feeling I am having, the desire to purge, it will pass. It always passes. So I will not throw up, I will wait for it to pass. I am allowed to eat ice-cream and chips and salsa. That is okay. What I need to do is better listen to my body and my brain when I know something will not make me feel good right now.

These are intrusive thoughts, nothing more, and then will not last forever. They never do.

I am not shy…


I’m not shy, I have social anxiety.

I don’t avoid talking to people because I’m shy, I do it because when I think about talking to someone my mind starts to race and my body starts to twitch and I start fidgeting with whatever is closest to me.

I don’t avoid eye contact because I’m shy. I do it because seeing someone looking back is petrifying. I feel overheated and uncomfortable and my mind goes blank.

I don’t stutter over my words because I’m shy. I do it because when someone is looking at me and talking to me it causes my mind to draw up 10+ ways the conversation could go. That process makes me stutter because I can’t decide what sentence I want to say next so my brain tries to say them all at the same time.

I don’t avoid initiating a conversation because I’m shy. I do it because I’m terrified someone won’t want to talk back or I won’t know what to say when they do.

I don’t walk away after a total of 60 seconds because I’m shy.  I do it because my brain is telling me it’s time to escape, to avoid messing up and looking like a fool.

I don’t use social media as a way to communicate because I’m shy. I do it because that’s the only way I know how to break the ice with people and teach my brain that this person is safe. He/she is okay to talk to.

I don’t apologize for being shy because I am, I apologize because I don’t want people to know I have social anxiety, but at the same time, that’s all I want. I want you to understand that you specifically do not scare me or make me nervous, every human being on this planet does that.

I am not shy, I have social anxiety.

Puzzle Pieces


I am not broken, I was not glued back together.

I lost part of me with him, I lost a lot of what made me who I am,

There were a lot of pieces of me that were removed,

and he filled those then empty spaces with who he wanted me to be.

It’s kind of like trying to fit pieces of one puzzle into a different one and pushing and pushing until it fits just enough to hold.

In order to heal, I had to identify which pieces were the ones that he shoved into me and remove them.

Then go on a hunt and find the pieces of MY puzzle and put them back where they belong.

He did not break me. I was never really “broken”, but rather…missing pieces.

But I found them. I removed his pieces and I found mine and I put my puzzle back together again.

I was raped, where the hell were you?


I was raped!

Repeatedly, raped.

Remember Rob?

Yeah that relationship worked out real well for me!

I was raped

and you weren’t there!

You bailed. When I needed you, you bailed because you thought I said something I didn’t.

You didn’t even value our friendship enough to try to talk to me about it and fix it!

You just left.

You lied to me and you left.

I needed you and you weren’t there!

I went through something and when I was just about ready to talk about it, I didn’t have that option because nobody was there!

I was alone.

I was facing something alone.

I was running from something, terrified, and I was doing it alone.

Because you weren’t there.

I was raped,

where the hell were you?


*a message to an ex friend