All I see when I look at myself is fat. Yet my clothes say that I’ve lost too much weight. My stomach is slowly getting smaller and my hip bones are starting to pop out. My arms and hands are getting boney and I’m slowly becoming ‘skin and bones’’. At first it was never a body issue, it just was the fact that I was never hungry. My food proportions would get smaller and smaller by the day until I was eating practically nothing. When I did eat I got a nauseous feeling, yet I could never throw up. It disgusted me to eat because let’s face it; no one likes the feeling of nausea. So I would try and make myself throw up. I would use my fingers, toothbrush, remedies that I found on the internet, yet nothing helped. So I turned to fasting. I don’t eat for days. I get this emotional hunger that makes me want to eat. But I can’t give in or else I feel disgusted. People think it’s as simple as putting food in your mouth and swallowing so you can survive. But I promise it’s way more complicated than that. You know that feeling you get when you’ve eaten too much and when you try to eat more, but you can't because your brain says no? That’s pretty much how I feel. Except I do get hungry. When I eat I cry and cry because I feel weak. Now most people would ask, “Why would you feel weak? You’re eating which is good for your body!” I feel weak because I am giving in to what my body wants. I understand that this is a psychological issue, I understand that I can end up in a hospital if I don’t eat. But what no one else seems to understand is the fact that my body rejects all food. I can barely eat some crackers without feeling disgusting. But I have to give into my cravings every now and then. Not because I want to but because if I don’t, my body will give out on me.  I hate my body but I want to make it better. But it’s also hard to do that when I have scars all over it. Not only accidental childhood scars, but the self made scars. Razors, scissors, knives, anything to make a cut. Long scars, small scars, deep scars, flesh wounds, it’s hard to see them when you don’t suspect a thing. Depression sucks. But I don’t complain. This has been going on for a few years and it stopped then I relapsed. STop then relapse. But no knows because no one tries to figure these things out.

My mom (who is my aunt but she raised me so I call her mom) is a workaholic. She has always been. I can’t remember a day where she wasn’t stressing about her two jobs. She never had time to sit down with me and play games or try to figure out who I really was. It was sad because I was the only other person living with her. She never let me go outside with the kids on my block because she didn't want me snatched because she couldn’t watch me and she didn’t know the kid’s parents. Which in all honesty I don’t blame her. But when I went into middle school I changed. I slowly was becoming sadder and sadder and no one, not my mom or friends noticed a changed. I was introduced to self-harm not long after. I used it as a way to escape my pain by adding more pain; but pain I can control. I knew something was wrong but I never knew what. One day I decided to tell my mom about what I was doing to myself. She was pissed. She thought that I was doing these things so I could get her attention but in all honesty, I didn’t even know why I was feeling this way. She was constantly watching me and lecturing me saying that I have love, a roof over my head, clothes and food. But I didn’t care. My eighth grade year, I went to the doctor and they told me I was a five pounds over weight. Thus my obsession about my body began. I would skip meals, and still eat but only in small proportions. I grew a couple more inches and my body weight was acceptable to the doctors but not me. Even though I’ve never been over weight since, I still drew lines at foods and times to eat. A few years pass and I meet this great guy. He’s family oriented, athletic, tall, and knows what he is majoring in.  He was everything I could’ve asked for. He never really knew about my depression and self-harm but he had an idea. He tried asking a few times but I got mad and shot him down. He was hurt but didn’t try again. We had broken up for a month but then got back together. He realized that I had new cuts on my body and we cried together. He made me promise that I would never do that again. And I agreed. But I didn’t keep it for long. He recognized that I didn’t eat breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner. He talked to my mom about it and I was watched all over again. But over time they both started to lose interest. Not only in my eating habits, but in me. The guy and I broke up this previous February. We haven’t talked since. After that I disregarded everything I ever said and went back to my old ways. When Summer came I had gotten him out of my mind. But I wasn’t eating. I didn’t pay much attention because sometimes I’m just not hungry. But when school came back around I started noticing my nausea. I hated it. But as you can see now, I am still struggling. I have EDNOS. I have self-harm issues. Depression. ADHD. I hate myself and body image and I am the only one who can help me.
Please do not turn your back on your friends or family who could have a eating or mental disorder. I would never wish this on anyone. This is a disease and the person is the victim who has no control. Time and patience is the key. Don’t let it become a problem. Let them know that they are loved and it isn’t their fault. An eating disorder has taken over me. Please don’t let it take someone you might know and love.