On Friday I asked you about what you’d like to read in this post about mental health. I got so many questions and topics, so I decided to make a series of posts about it, and today will just be a brief introduction. Please know that I am not educated in this matter, all I say is out of experience and is solely my opinion.
Today I will talk about acceptance and honesty, and how it’s connected to our mental well being. To be true to yourself is the one key to happiness. To always be honest with yourself, and accept each moment as it is – without trying to change a thing. We get sick with mental disorders when something interrupts the connection we have with ourselves, our inner child,, if you want. These kind of illnesses find their way into our bodies when we are ‘out of balance’ with ourselves, when we question our decisions and don’t have complete faith in our actions.
Homo sapiens has a number of intellectual abilities which distinguish us from all other animals. We engage in profoundly unique behaviors, such as language, art, music, religion,.. and in the past century we became extremely sophisticated in the area of technology. And of course that’s amazing, but on the other hand devastating. With this ‘new age’ knowledge and behavior we are starting to lose touch with the rest of nature. We are starting to slip off balance with ourselves.
In this era it is very important, maybe even crucial, to stay in touch with yourself. It’s too easy to get lost within all that information, norms and standards, jobs, etcetera, so we really have to try hard to not be torn apart. I started to realize that a couple of years back, and decided to do something about it. Because I was lost, I was dead. I didn’t want to live any longer, nor did I want to die. All I did was wait, floating in a shitload of nothing. But I was still in there somewhere, there still was a part of me which wanted out, I always felt that. All I had to do is last long enough in that fuckhole that the little me would grow, get stronger, and get the hell out of there. And that is how I beat depression: I NEVER QUIT FIGHTING. I never gave up, I was always stronger than my diagnosis. No matter how long I cried, how loud I screamed, how deep I cut, I never ever gave up.
That is how my journey to self love has begun. Each pill I took, each bottle I emptied, no matter how fucked up it all seemed, I was always one step closer to getting better, and I knew that. I felt I had to go through certain things to understand my illness, and now I do. I don’t regret a thing – I learned so much and seen a lot, and the scars I have are a constant reminder: I am a winner.
For me things really changed when I really accepted I had a problem. When I acknowledged I was sick and needed help. When I was finally honest with myself. That’s why I urge you to start seeking happiness within, quit being afraid of change, and build a strong relationship with your inner self. That way you will make you see your values clearly, and you will know who you are, what defines you. Because it’s you who decides what defines you, not society, not social media. In the end of the day, it’s all up to you.
In my next post I will talk about anxiety, and later on eating disorders, depression, and I will answer all your questions (if you have more please leave them in my Instagram inbox). I hope you had a lovely read and now feel motivated and good about yourself. Have a beautiful Sunday evening, talk soon!
Good morning lovelies!
I hope you had a great weekend. Today I wanted to post a more detailed update and recap of my life with an eating disorder - as i've done almost two years ago, but now that I was reading that post I realized I haven't really said much, in spite of at that time feeling like I was almost over-sharing. Well, I WASN'T. This needs to be heard, this needs to be a normal topic to talk and write about.
When I was a kid some pretty messy stuff happened to me, and it kept on happening while growing up. I always thought I was ‘the weird one’, the one everyone avoided. For some reason I felt different. Now I know what that reason was. Because of the circumstances I was growing up in I never really got to be a kid. I always had to be ‘strong’ and ‘understand’ stuff. I was always referred to as ‘smart and mature enough’ to handle every situation, so I lost the feeling of childhood. I never got to talk about TV shows everyone at school was watching, I never got to play with friends a lot because I was always dragging around my suitcase waiting for my dad to show up. And so many times, he didn’t. My mom was, and still is amazing for keeping it together. She is the reason I’m here today, and she is always my ultimate inspiration.
At around age ten I remember starting hating my body, and wishing to be a different person. Although I was always very athletic, I was a gymnast and a ballet dancer, I felt that if I changed the way I look maybe society would accept me. So when I hit puberty the clear signs of an eating disorder started to show. In the beginning, around age twelve, I started to plan my meals, skipping them, restricting calorie intake, and ban certain foods from my diet. I will not go into detail here, because it was too messed up and I don’t want to plant ideas into heads of people who are still struggling (to all of you: YOU CAN GET BETTER). Soon this first episode of anorexia has turned into bulimia, when for years I binged and purged, took laxatives, and did all sorts of things not to ‘get fatter’. After that came a short period of anorexic behavior, and soon there was the first ‘fuck it’ phase. I didn’t know what to do, how to battle my eating disorder, so I tried to ignore it. BAD IDEA. I gained a couple of kilos, and just went right back into relapse. That’s when I was hospitalized for the first time, and got my diagnosis: Anorexia Nervosa. From that day on it was a war, really. A never ending rollercoaster ride without a fastened seatbelt. I engaged in extremely self destructive behavior, cutting, taking drugs, and putting myself in dangerous situations in general. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live, either. I was hospitalized two times in that period, quit school, and lived kind of a ‘rock and roll’ life. But then my mom finally found a way to get through to me. After some real shit I’ve done, after a couple of suicide attempts, she helped me get back to school. It was so hard stepping back into ‘real’ life, doing ‘normal’ things. Then the second ‘fuck it’ period came; WORST IDEA EVER. I ignored my eating disorder again and gained so much weight. I was the heaviest I’ve ever been at almost 60kg. And that’s when it hit me. No more food. I started dieting again, and going to the gym regularly. I actually lost almost 10 kg in a very healthy way, but then, at around 50gk my anorexia hit me with all she had.
By the time I was halfway through first year of uni I’ve lost another 10 kg, now weighing around 40 kg. My boyfriend and I were living in Gorizia at that time, so due to my severe health problems my mother took me back home. And that’s when I realized – I’M GOING TO DIE. My body was so tired, so exhausted from all the years of war against eating disorders, it said ‘no more’. At that time I wanted to start eating, but I couldn’t. Weighing under 40 kg my mom helped me walk around the house, helped me eat, helped me drink. I could barely have some yogurt, because I got sick so fast. My stomach was destroyed from the acid, I had ulcers all over, and I was severely malnourished, my digestive system stopped working, basically everything in my body stopped working. It was starting to shut down.
But then my mom found a doctor who could help me! He gave me some medicine for my stomach, so I could start to eat again. It took me 6 months to gain 3 kg, and that’s when I could start taking life into my own hands. At 43 kg I started going to the gym to wake up my metabolism, and was active three to four times a week for the next 6 months. I got so much better! I weighed 47 kg and felt strong and so much healthier. Now, a year later, I’m still taking medicine, but less than half of my previous dosage! I am also off anti-depressants, and I can eat almost anything now and not feel sick., and my portions are big enough to feed a 150 kg trucker :D Now, at 48 – 49 kg, I have a normal life. I am learning to love and accept myself, and to let myself be human. To embrace my flaws not as flaws, but as gifts that make me who I am, that make me unique.
I don’t believe in full recovery after an eating disorder. But you know, a battle lost does not mean you lost the war. It’s ok to have bad days, weeks, months. It’s human, normal. What I now do believe in is that recovery is possible to a point where the eating disorder does no longer control you. I believe it is possible to kick that backstabbing bitch of a disease in it’s butt, and life your life to the fullest. Because after all, IT’S YOUR BODY, IT’S YOUR CHOICE.
Now reading what I’ve written here makes me see I’ll have to make a lot more posts about my journey. This here is just a brief recap, a quick summary of my life. Please let me know what you’d like to read about the most in my future posts. Ask me questions, tell me your stories. You are all welcome to join me on my road to recovery, self love, and acceptance. We got this!
I hope you have a WONDERFUL day!