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Lost Girl Sep 2021
"Your hair will fall out"
"You'll faint and pass out"
"Why must you hurt yourself?"

I don't mean to, I swear
I try to recover
Each time I fail

Skin and bones are what I desire
At least that's what my mind tells me
As my body is starving, fading away

Recovery is hard
Relapse is familiar
My eating disorder is killing me
Feeling the urge to relapse, but writing about my struggles helps me stay strong.
uselace Aug 2021
Across the table
my grandpa asks me why
i don't eat cinnamon toast crunch anymore.
The last time i saw them
i loved it so much
that he tried it, and got hooked
but now i don't touch it.
And i don't know how to tell him
why,
how to tell him
that the thought of all that sugar
paralyzes me.
So i just sit with my corn flakes,
avoid his eyes
and hope he doesn't notice
how desperately i wish i could eat it.
cinnamon toast crunch is objectively the best cereal
lynn Feb 2021
i once took shame in this struggle.
closed blinds,
empty body
'nobody needs to know'

believing myself to be a burden, i buried myself.

i spent years decomposing,
cold and unrecognizable.
a fossil of my former self.

but now i hold the shovel
and free myself from this earthen cage.
i am beginning to understand that there is beauty in asking for help,
and i have planted the seeds of self love.
watch as they grow roots and blossom

-here's to a fresh start
here's a poem i wrote around 1 1/2 years ago and never posted
me Jan 2020
sometimes, i miss being sick.

i miss the feeling of my sharp ankles on the cold scale. the scale has been hidden from my judgemental eyes.

i miss the automatic caloric calculator, the blinding neon-sign. it's still there, always and impossible to ignore, like television subtitles. but i eat anyway.

i miss the feeling of my jeans becoming baggier around pencil legs. yesterday i had to go to american eagle to buy the same pair of ripped jeans, two sizes larger than what i was a year ago.

i miss the blue polka-dot Tupperware in the farthest corner of my closet that i used to erase the shame of feeling full. i can't have containers anywhere in my bedroom.

i miss the feeling of drinking so much water that my body becomes a shallow pool that my insides float in. i have a limit on the amount of fluids i can consume in a day.

i miss walking into a meal knowing exactly how to eliminate all of it, without question. now when i do behaviors i feel the shame of my whole family in my chest.

i miss karaoke nights. i can't sing any of the songs i did in the hospital. it just feels wrong.

i miss sitting in a circle of other sick girls and forgetting, for a moment. they're in different places all over the world, enjoying life as recovered anorexics.

i miss staying up late talking to my roommate and questioning whether recovery is worth it, or even possible. she's in california with her girlfriend, enjoying being alive.

i miss licking salt of ice cubes. everything is locked into safes.

but mostly, i miss you. you're gone.

.
gah this poem kinda ***** but jesus Christ i need to put this somewhere i have so much GUILT about missing my ED but god ******* ****** i really want to relapse.
Stephanie Coops Dec 2018
The doctors say you have a diagnosis
That your diagnosis is anorexia nervosa.
What the heck are they talking about?
Maybe I should listen to them, I don’t know, I’m so full of self doubt.

I thought I knew myself so well
They say you lose yourself and identity in the process
What process?
Of trying to be thin?  
You don’t know who you are.
You should've known that, can’t you tell by your scar?

Still don’t believe your diagnosis? You’re in denial!
Why can’t you see this? It’s not healthy to be running mile by mile
What about the mini diagnoses in the process?
What about the OCD, BDD, PTSD, oh!  don’t forget about the osteopenia…
This disease isn’t what you wanted? Why? You’ve heard the glamour in the media.

What’s that you say? You want to stop?
You can’t stop now, keep going, you’re making jaws drop
Wait… this isn’t what you wanted.
You hate attention.
Take each day as learning a new lesson.
You’re gone, it’s taken over.

Machines are beeping, bags attached with long tubes.. Why aren’t I happy?
Your blood pressure has dropped, and your heart rate reached 43 today too, congratulations! That’s nothing new.
Doctors say living like this, you have a few years left.
Of course that’s what happens when you’re playing with death.
All because you don’t think your beautiful.
Now you're stuck here, laying blankly in a hospital bed.
After all it’s your fault, you believed it, when they said you’re better off dead.

As your mind races, you channel that little girl you used to be.
White blonde hair, big blue eyes, you were happy, nothing else mattered.
Playing, running in dress up clothes, singing Disney songs, running to mom and dad.
It was the best life a little girl could have!
The only thing you needed to worry about was the paint and how you felt the colour.
Why did that little ever deserve this pain and torture?
It’s time to wake up from this living horror.

Lifeless, depressed, but still fake smiles show through, this is an allusion.
Soon this disease became the only thing you knew.
Your smile was beautiful, your hair was long,
This is a facade.
Your game of Russian roulette is like holding a lightning rod.

As you grow older, the memories, statements, and voices will soon fade.
You learned something new through your hospitalization.
Time to create more life worth living moments, those are here to stay.
The bullying, your ex boyfriend, your grandpa's death, it all doesn’t define you.
Remember facts about yourself, your own personal characteristics, that’s what people find interesting.
They don’t notice or see the aspects you find belittling.

Your vision of a sea of white still has time to change
Save yourself now before you make others live a life of pain
After all, your identity is not your diagnosis.
If you just focus,
You have the power to change...everything...
Belle Dec 2017
all the birthdays i've missed
but all i'll gain
i've been in treatment for so long, hopefully this time will work
Corbyn Dec 2017
the days you spend

no longer feeling the familiar ache in your chest

noticing how at ease you feel

wondering how long this feeling has been here but you were too unaware to notice

grateful

but confused

is it my time to feel good?

is it my time to bloom and flourish?

you can't help but latch onto the piece of you that wants the illness

but even so

you choose each day to take steps forward so you can ensure that tomorrow

you will wake up

and you will no longer feel the familiar ache in your chest
Weekly goals written on the board
share one common thread of hope: that we would live another day, another week.

Faces of worry, guilt, and shame are universal as we verbally state where we want to see ourselves in seven days time.

"Purge free for at least one day."
"Refrain as much as I can from body checking."
"Get in at least 3 meals a day."
"Find and use positive coping mechanisms."
"Affirm myself three times for every one time that I say something horrible about myself."

While it is easy to write these hope-filled words on a board, the actual challenge is staying true to them.

Hours of therapy can only make us aware of the areas in our life that need healing.
The healing process, however, lays in our own frail, cold hands.

Living a life married to ones eating disorder is a life lived in a mirror covered box with no apparent way out.

*But mirrors lie.
***** you, Ed.
Naunie Baltzell Oct 2015
150: "I've never had a fat girlfriend" your now ex-boyfriend explains when questioned about the reason why he said the two of you just won't work. He tells you that "he thinks you're cute, but would be much cuter if you lost a few pounds". His words echo in your brain until eventually insults are the only thing you can force yourself to swallow.

120: Everyone is congratulating you on your extraordinary weight loss, they all want to know your secrets. You don't tell them that every night you're on your knees worshipping the toilet bowl. That the only chocolate you've tasted in months is the chalky, sweetness of the laxatives that you take like a daily vitamin. That you don't allow yourself food until the emptiness inside you threatens to steal your consciousness. Instead, you smile and say "must be good genes".

90: You get into a fight with your mother after she tries to force you to eat dinner with your family. You ate yesterday, this will throw off all the goals you've been striving towards. You no longer know how to survive if you're not destroying yourself in the process.

90: You run into your ex boyfriend at the local Walmart with his new girlfriend. She's heavier than you are, but her eyes still shine like lighthouses, he hasn't gotten to her yet. You try to telepathically tell her to run, to leave while she's still whole, but you know the message gets lost on its way. So you settle for a smile, and a compliment to the figure she still has.

120: It's so hard to live in a society where perfection is unattainable but at the same time required... However, it's not impossible. You are already in recovery, you've made it through the hardest part. It's so much better to be full of food than full of empty wishes.

150: Your new girlfriend whines about how jealous she is of your curves, compares your body to that of an ancient goddess. You hesitantly accept the compliment, still not comfortable with imagining your body as anything other than the curse he made you think it was. Darling, your body is not the curse, your body is the blessing... I'm glad you've finally started treating it as such.
Jennifer Stewart Jul 2015
I blame it on my period, but it's my own lack of self control
I'm trying to get better, so it should start getting easier, shouldn't it?
But that's not how it works, no, not at all.
You still spend every single day consuming calories and wanting to explode.
You may not explode as often any more, but you still loosen your cannons daily.
You try to get buy with just one meal, but that turns into a full fledged feast.
You eat and you eat until you can't anymore, then goto the toilet and let some bombs explode.
But since you're getting better, you don't use up all of your ammo
You leave it hidden away, adding on some extra armor.
Then you wake up, see what all the violence caused you to gain
And you just feel like **** because you no longer come out on top every day.
You're losing battles left and right; and the saddest thing is, you're losing to your own mind.
-j.s
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