My story #2

Hello everyone!

Most recent picture (Feb. 2016)

I was thinking about posting another, more detailed story of my life and anorexia.

I think too many people don't really get what anorexia actually is, how one can develope anorexia and become ill or how it's not possible to "just eat and get healthy".

A lot of people judge anorexic people immedietely, thinking they're not normal, they're weird, stupid. I've experienced myself that some people can't deal with mentally ill persons. They don't realise that actually, we are in a way still normal, we "just" have a mental illness. But that doesn't mean we're stupid or we should be avoided.

However, I told you I was going to explain my story once again, maybe more detailed or more explained. I'm not going to tell you private things as I want to be careful with what I publish on the internet and I know there are a lot of people who know me in real life as well, so poeple don't need to know everything :P

But I'll still try to explain as detailed as possible and explain why I'm not a "normal" anorexic (which actually doesn't exist but I'm talking about the "anorexic people want to be skinny and thin, they stop eating, weigh themselves everyday and do excessive exercise"-explanaition a lot of people give when you ask them what anorexia is. They'd call a person like this a "normal anorexic", I suppose, which isn't true at all)

So. 

I've always been a quite sensitive and a bit self-conscious person. I've always been shy with people which are "over my level", but I've always been quite open with people I immedietely feel comfortable with.

I've always been someone, who gets stomach aches when I get nervous. I've never been able to eat when I was too nervous, sad, angry or when something happened. I've also always been a really picky-eater, I didn't eat any dairy, not because I was vegan or so, but I didn't like it at all. My mum always tried new things like yogurt drinks or things like that but I usually didn't drink/eat those things because I didn't like it. Only chocolate milk, I liked that :) (now I eat yogurt, but I still don't like normal milk, cheese or cream, neither curd or mascarpone)
I've always been really determined when I wanted something, if I set myself a goal, I try everything to reach it. I'm stubborn and ambitious. I've always liked having control over things.

I've always been a person who tries to help others, who usually never talks about her own problems but tries to help others with theirs. I've never liked to be someone who complains about life all the time, I never wanted to bore people with my problems and so I actually never told anyone about my family life or other problems. When I got older and understood things better, I kept everything inside me and acted as if everything was perfectly fine, even though I sometimes was sad or didn't feel well. I wore a mask when I went outside, showing the happy me, being the happy me and trying to hide things. 

But you can't life like this for ever and that's why I became mentally ill. I've just told you some of those facts about me, because these are some of the, let's say "perfect conditions" to develope an eating disorder like anorexia. I didn't develop it because I wanted to be skinny or I wanted to lose weight, because I've always been slim and also fit, I didn't have problems with my weight. There was a time though, when I was 9, where I weighed myself every single day, where I only allowed myself to gain weight if I had grown, where I checked my weight before eating an ice cream and I felt really good after doing sports and allowed myself to eat after it. But that was a phase, there were also some things going on in my life which had already made me ill at that time, but I didn't even know anorexia and I acctually didn't want to lose weight, I just liked having control and I felt "strong" when I knew I could refuse on ice cream or chocolate whilst others can't.

This was a phase I had when I was about 9, it didn't last long and I didn't lose weight or anything, I still was normal for me, I mean I've always been a bit underweighed but that's in my genes if you want to say so. My mum's also naturally quite skinny and me, too.

After that phase though, I was "normal" until 11/12. That's when everything began and that's when I started to destroy myself without noticing and without actually wanting it. I didn't know much about anorexia, I knew it exists but I didn't know a lot about it and I always thought it's impossible to become that skinny. I even said once: "I could never become that skinny, I wouldn't want that". Well Chiara, never say never...

Everything started in winter/spring when 2010. I was 11.

I got ill once and I had stomach aches 24/7. These stomach aches didn't go aways though, I went to the doctor's but he checked my stomach and sad everything was fine. At the beginning I thought I was just ill. I couldn't eat much anymore and I ate less. I missed quite a lot of school days because I often went home as I couldn't deal with my stomach and I didn't know what was wrong with me.
Then, I got really confused as well because I didn't know what and how much to eat anymore. 

Please don't ask me why, but I then had an app on my iPhone with which I could count calories. I REALLY don't know anymore why I got that app, I have no clue because before I didn't know anything about calories and never had thought about counting them, But I had that app and saw, that an average, normal person eats approx. 2000kcal (most people eat more though and I don't want people to think now that's what everyone needs to eat, everyone is different and needs a different amount of calories a day, plus, it's not everyday the same, so please don't start counting them, it's a silly habit I still have but I hope you're more clever than me and won't start doing that-thanks.). WEll, I then thought since I was 12 (my birthday was then in spring) I wasn't an adult and I thought that's why I needed less than 2000. Keep in mind that I never felt hungry and I didn't know anymore what was normal to eat for me, as I had those stomach aches and yeah...
I started to eat half of the normal amount, which isn't even enough to survive for a child, let alone for a growing up, young girl. (Teenagers usually eat way more than "normal" because your body needs that to grow. 3000calories are normal for teenagers, some eat even more)

I obviously lost quite a lot of weight, but I didn't even realise it. I didn't stop eating, I just ate less because I wasn't hungry and I honestly thought I was okay and being normal. I didn't cut out foods, I still ate a lot of bread and also chocolate and other so called "unhealthy junk". 

My mum realised really quickly that something was wrong with me, also, two family members of mine had anorexia ones, so it's also known in my family. She talked with me, asking me if I was okay, she was worried and even told me she was scared that I might become anorexic. I obviously told her I was fine though. But I wasn't. And my mum also has her own problems and she didn't feel well neither, so I didn't want to be another problem and I didn't want her to worry about me. 

But she did, we went to the doctor's like every second week. He didn't think I was anorexic though because he asked me if I wanted to lose weight and I answered with "no!" (which was true!), so, for him, anorexia couldn't be the case (well, wrong). 

I kept on losing weight, doctors kept on examining my stomach, mum kept on being more worried and also my grandmother was really worried, too. A teacher also noticed my weight loss and also friends from my school. But I told everyone I was fine because I thought I was.

One day though, I realised what I did wasn't good. I realised I had a problem, that was in about May of that year. I read about anorexia on the internet and also checked the symptoms and signals and I realised I actually had all of those things...
One morning, my grandmother also forced me to stand on a scale (I had never weighed myself before, I only know that my highest weight was 38 when I was weighed at the doctor's and that was okay then.) When I saw the number on the scale I was shocked. I hadn't realised I had lost so much weight in such a short period of time. I told myself to regain the weight I had lost back and I tried so hard to recover.

But of course, it wasn't easy. Those summer holidays were a big fight for me but I managed to regain about 3kg until September I think. But then, I lost again, my mind became really ill, I don't even know why but I just couldn't think normally, I couldn't get that stupid little "bad me" out of me, it was there, telling me it was great to have control over things others can't control, telling me I was strong, telling me dissappearing is a great. My parents weren't often at home, my dad had to work all day and then he went to training and my mum also had to work all day and she suffers from chronical migraine and other things, so she didn't feel well, which made me feel bad aswell as I'm really close with her. My relationship with my father has never been really good and at that time it was even worse.

Actually, the years passed by this way. I tried to recover, I tried to eat (and I ate, and I ate pizza, pasta, ice cream, chocolate, too) but I didn't get better. I started to eat less during to day and saving calories for the evening. I couldn't bring myself to eat over a certain amount of calories, even though I somehow wanted. I just couldn't. It's so difficult to explain, but there was like a barrier which I couldn't break.

I knew I was hurting my mum and grandmother so much, they were so worried. I always assured them though I was fine and I was eating and I tried to make them happy, but I still couldn't gain weight. When I stayed at my grandmother over night, she bought me my favourite things: rice cakes, italian biscuits and she made me a hot chocolate with a lot of chocolate. I ate those things, but I knew she had bought them for me and I then restricted during the day. I wasn't strong enough to not listen to my stupid head.

Then, June 2012, my worst nightmare became true. My grandmother died.

She wasn't just a grandmother for me, she literally was like a mother to me. I grew up with her, seeing her almost everyday because my father was never at home and my mum had to work during the day, so my grandmother came and cooked for me and my brothers lunch and she also stayed in the afternoon when we came back home from school. She went to tennis lessons with us, she went walking in the forest with us, played with us and so on. So she literally was my second mother and I loved her so much (still love her). 

Maybe you can imagine how I felt or maybe you can't. But I was truly done. I couldn't go to school for 3 weeks or 4 and those summer holidays were a night mare. I felt empty, I felt dead inside. I actually tried to eat and gain for her, I wanted to make her happy. I felt so bad that she had to suffer because of me, too and that she had to worry about me. But I wasn't able to get better as a part of me was gone. 

I lost quite a lot of weight at that time again and then I mantained for a few months, underweighed.

In January 2013, I had lost weight again, I got to a very dangerous BMI, I could have died every second. My doctor finally realised I needed special help and he sent me to therapy at a hospital. There I was outpatient for a few months. I immedietely had to stop playing squash, I wasn't allowed to joing PE and I had to stop doing any exercises. To be honest, that wasn't even a big deal for me, I was happy to stop playing squash as I felt way too weak and dizzy all the time.

But weight-wise it didn't change much. I actually just lost even more and mantained a dangerous weight, hiding it from my therapist though by drinking lots of water before weigh-in and wearing more and more layers of clothes (I was allowed to wear something when I got weighed, which was so stupid). But of course, I couldn't hide my weight loss for a long time. My therapist admitted me to hospital in April 2013, one day before my 16th birthday. Hospital was literally terror for me, it was like hell. I couldn't deal with the food there, it was too greasy, too much, I didn't like it and I wasn't used to eat during the day, least of all eating 6 times a day! (I have to say though, I was really really ill at that time. That was my worst time actually and I didn't even have to eat a lot at the beginning, but I still couldn't deal with that because my mind was just too sick. I also didn't like the food and I wasn't even forced to eat everything, so I usually didn't eat everything). I lost even more weight.
My mum got really angry with the nurses there because they made me eating cottage cheese which I hated and other dairy. I didn't eat those things of course and I also asked them if they could give me something else, but they didn't (they thought it was my illness, but I truly didn't like that stuff), so when I told my mum that she was really angry. 

After a month, I got out of hospital even though the doctors didn't want me to go. But my parents didn't want me to stay there as I had lost weight there and they thought I'd have only gotten worse if I stayed there. And I also told my mum I'd kill myself if she left me there and that I wouldn't eat anymore. I promised her I'd eat at home and gain weight and recover. She didn't want me to suffer so much and she was convinced I could get healthy at home because she thought I really wanted it and she believed in me. 

After a month, I got out of hospital. I wasn't allowed to go to school all day though, I had to drive one hour to weigh-in every week, I also had therapy and I had to go to my mum's office to eat lunch because otherwise I wouldn't have eaten anything, or not enough. (I found main meals really hard to eat alone, but snacks really easy... Weird somehow haha).

Summer holidays 2014 were ... well, what should I say? Everyday the same routine, getting up, eating breakfast, preparing food to bring to mum, eating lunch at mum's office, go on a walk to clear my mind, eat snack, have dinner, another snack. Of course I did some other things, too, like I went almost everyday to my best friends' or I met other friends in the afternoon. But the main thoughts I had were what I could eat, how much I should eat, I planned every meal in advance, I once planned a whole week of eating. It was so sick if I think about it now and it seems ... so unreal...

However, I kept going like this, this was also the time I started my instagram by the way! It has helped me quite a lot, I felt like the people on instagram support me and encouraged me to eat more, even when I felt bad. It's not that I only had internet friends and that I liked them more, I actually still think real friends are much more worth than internet friends, I don't mean this in a bad way but you know what I mean, I hope. But since I didn't dare to talk about my eating problems with my friends, Instagram was good for me. Even though I have to admit, it was also a bit compatitive sometimes... And it triggered me, too, especially when people told me I was the thinnest on Instagram, I felt kinda proud about that... It sounds so selfish and stupid now, I'm sorry but I have to admit that.

But yeess, I kept going, I actually mantained an unhealthy weight all summer. Until August. I started to lose a bit again and I then had another therapist because my other one was in holidays. The new therapist was really strict and she realised I drank water before weigh-in and then was a huge drama about going inpatient or not. Because she wantet to admit me immedietely... We argued about literally 2 hours... But somehow I could convince my mum and therapist to let me stay at home and give me another chance. I took that chance at the beginning and I started to gain some weight. It didn't last long though, I gained about 2kg and then I mantained, still a very unhealthy weight. I refused some weigh-ins or I started to eat a lot before weigh in, because I had to be weighed on a special scale, which gives you nutritional information, like how much body fat you have, how many muscles, and stuff and also water. So you could see if I drank a lot of water before getting weighed BUT you couldn't tell if I ate 1 kg of cucumber before beeing weighed... So I stupidly did that and I could hide my weight for a bit. In Octrober, my mum, brother and I went to London for three days and those days were so stressful for me. Mum had actually hoped it would help me maybe because I always told her how great English food was (like all those healthy eating places and stuff) and she hoped I would be able to eat better there and be distracted from other problems at home when I wasn't there... But it came differently. 

When we got back, I was totally drained, exhausted and ill. I had lost quite a lot of weight and I was ill for another 4 days, I think. Then I had weigh in again, and my therapist said he'd take the say away from my mum (my dad never came to the weigh ins, so it was just mum who could decide about me, as I wasn't 18 yet) and he admitted me to hospital immedietely. I could only go home for one more night to pack my things, the next morning I had to be at hospital at 8 o'clock.

I felt as if I was a looser, I felt weak and stupid. I was so scared of hospital, but in a way, I was really relieved to finally let go that control, to finally get better because I actually wanted to be healthy, I was just too ill to do it by myself... But I was in good hands then.

The first few months were terrible though. I was forced to eat, the rules were really really strict and I wasn't allowed to do anything. I had to stay in my room all day long, I couldn't even go to the toilet without ringing the bell and asking, I couldn't even shower as much as I wanted, I was only allowed to take a shower two times a week. All meals were accompanied by nurses who just sat there, watching me eating. Luckily, there was another girl at the beginning with whom I had a good relationsip and we also had quite a lot of fun sometimes, but she then moved on and could go into the ed-group, I instead, was then alone with the nurs at the meals which was really weird sometimes and I just didn't feel well.

But with time, I felt better and better. With every gram I gained, my mind became clearer and I became healthier.

Over 9 months I had gained a lot of weight and I felt so much better, I improved a lot.

Finally, I had managed to gain weight, I never felt so determined and strong before.
I really wanted to get out of hospital after such a long time and I gave my best. Also the nurses were really proud of me, one even told me she had never believed I could improve that much.

June 2015 I got out of hospital. After summer holidays, I finally could go back to school. I had to repeat one year though, but that's okay. 

I'm doing much better now, last year, winter 2015 I had a bit of a relapse though, not eating-disorder wise, more depression-wise which also lead to some weight loss though. (I forgot to mention that I also developed depression over those years, but that's actually kinda obvious).

Since then I've gained again though, I've had ups and downs but I never gave up. I actually never wanted to lose any weight, I can't explain why, but I somehow just lose weight if things are going on, if I have too much stress or don't feel well... It's so weird..

But my depression got also worse since last winter and I'm on anti-depressants since a few months.

One thing which is still really hard to deal for me is the health of my mum, but I need to live with that and try to help her with things I can do. 

I really want to get healthy, I want to be fully recovered one day.  

To be honest with you, I really don't know if I'll ever be 100% recovered, but I won't lose hope and I will keep on fighting, I won't give up, never. I don't ever want to go back to where I was. I'm happy that I gained weight back and I'm determined to gain the last few kg until I'm a fully healthy weight.

It's not going to be easy, but it definetely will be worth it.

People ask me if I'm ashamed of posting these pictures.

Am I? Yes I am. 

But at the same time I'm not.

Because this is the truth, Nothing but the truth.

I looked extremely sick and I'm aware of that fact.

I want people to be shocked and maybe make them realise what this illness can do to you.

It's no joke. it's not fun. it's pure hell and it's killing you.

I haven't chosen this illness and I don't wish anyone any mental illness.

No one who doesn't have a mental illness himself can understand how it must be.

But please, stop judging others.

Stop thinking mentally ill people are weird.

I am mentally ill.

I'm anorexic and also depressed.

I wont hide that anymore. People know it and that's okay.

I am who I am, what I am and how I am.

I have to make the best out of it.

People don't know my whole story, no one does, even not you.

But not everyone should know everything, some things have to be kept in secret or can only be told to very good friends or family members.

I am not perfect and I'll never be perfect.

Perfection doesn't exist on this world, no one is perfect.

We all also need to learn that.

Accept yourself the way you are, that's how you'll get to happiness.

Best,

Chiara