Anorexia Ana Was Me

by Faith
(Ohio, Usa)

Ana (anorexia personified) - I know some people describe her as a person, or a voice in their brain. That was never my case. Maybe it was, but I find it hard to remember exact details of those few months. I'm thankful that my brain has blocked them out. 

For me, she was a feeling in my gut. A feeling that made me want to hurl when I saw myself, a feeling that made me not care about the side effects anorexia would have on me, a feeling that made me not care that I could die. It was a feeling that made me want to be thin, since that was the only thing I could control. 

I looked up "thinspiration" (on pro ana websites .

I told myself that I was fat and lazy. I told myself this was a test of self control. I told myself that this was the strong thing to do. I told myself that I'm taking the blame because this was my subconscious decision. No one else's. 

I was skipping meals - breakfast, didn't eat lunch, and ate only a little for dinner. My mom didn't know about the first two meals, and still doesn't. I'm assuming she just thought I was dieting. She talks now about how I'm never going to be like that, and she would make me stop. She still doesn't know. I don't say anything. 

She claims she used to have eating disorder. I don't buy it. You CAN'T just openly and randomly talk about it comfortably. You can't. I've tried. Everyone has tried. She lies about everything. 

She tells me I'm lazy. She tells me I'm not good for anything. She says I am a bitch. She doesn't love me. She has called me fat. She makes me miserable. She tells me I'm a disgusting pig. Maybe she's my Ana. Maybe she's the voice in my head. 

I didn't eat. I wore certain clothes certain days of the week. Baggy clothes. Almost no one could tell I was losing weight. I had control. I did my homework. I got A's. I didn't go out, I didn't text anyone back. I was a loner. 

I looked like crap. No makeup. No smile. No hope. No expression. Nothing. Blank. Pale. Still too fat. 

I don't know much more than that. I lost 20lbs in one month. Maybe more. About 5 in the beginning of the other. I gained it back fast. Plus more. 

I don't remember exactly how I came out of it. But I did. Most likely, someone was concerned. Anyone. Someone was probably worried. I'm 99% sure it was my aunt. She worries about me a lot, and noticed when I hardly ate ate her house, since I'm a big eater. She noticed how sleepy and irritable I was. She noticed my nails looked purplish (I said it was fading nail polish.of course she didn't buy it). she noticed everything no one else did. She's been there before.


I snapped out of it. I ate. And ate. And ate. I acted better. I tried smiling. I tried being friendly. I talked and giggled. I don't think anyone realized what happened. I hope not. 

I got fat. I never got to the point that I was technically underweight, but my ribs and hip bones were poking out pretty bad. Even my mom noticed that. Now I'm 10lbs overweight, and my body is refusing to go up or down. Who knows if that is bad or not. My metabolism still sucks. My muscle tone came back. 

I have nightmares sometimes. Horrible ones. They are flashbacks, and they fill in some of the cracks. The diet pills I tried. The pounding of my heart and the crying in my closet when I thought my heart would pound right out and I would die. I huddled and cried, thinking I would be dead by morning. I stopped those. 

The night I binged I dragged myself to the bathroom in tears, spending over an hour trying to make myself throw up. Finally something came up, and I was in pain. That satisfied me, and I cried myself to sleep. I cried every night. 

The exercise DVD I did over and over again each night. The push ups, sit ups, and lifts I did along with them. The pain and exhaustion. 

Friends joking I was becoming anorexic. Me laughing it off. 

All nightmares. I have them, remember what happened, and then I can't forget them. 

I cry still because I NEED to do it again. I cry because I KNOW I'm fat, despite what others say. I laugh off the poor self esteem comments. The should be confidence boosters blown away. 

I'm chunky. 
I'm skinny. 
I'm chubby. 
I'm sexy. 
I'm fat. 
I'm REALLY fat. 
I'm a sexy beast. 
I'm ugly as f*ck.

I've been told all of these, whether behind my back or to my face. I don't know what's true, since I've figured out what I see in the mirror isn't reality. 

I don't know what is though. 

I don't think I was close to death (except for the diet pill incident) so maybe I'm just being a wuss, as their are stories of people who really almost starved to death), but this has left a huge emotional impact on me.

I still hate myself. I occasionally cut myself. I cry. I plan out relapses and thank god I normally talk myself out of them. I probably need a good psychologist, but that would mean telling my mom, and she would talk me out of, call me a drama queen, make me feel worse, and crack jokes about it. so I'm pretty stuck. I want help so badly.