My period won't come back unless I gain weight...?
How much weight?
I can't gain weight. I don't WANT to. Part of me doesn't ever want to heal from anorexia. I love being skinny too much. But I hate not being able to run, barely walk...
And... my life's purpose is to have a family...
Without a period, I can't.
I need it back.
But I can't gain, no!!! NO! I swore I'd never be fat again.
How much weight? Until a normal BMI? But I love my underweight BMI...
I lost weight and unintentionally became anorexic all to become skinny and "beautiful." I'm not beautiful in any way right now.
My hair won't stop falling out. Walking takes all my will-power, but I want to RUN so bad. Run, like last summer. I can't play the sports that I want to play. I can't go on the roadtrips and travels I want to go on so bad. I hate feeling heavy, fat after eating "too much" (to me). I can't eat more. But part of me wants to give in, eat like crazy. That's my old binge-eating side. I hate that side. That's why I'm not going to lose to it. Gaining weight means losing, losing control. I hate that hopeless feeling of having no control over my body weight, when becoming skinny was my whole world, the past few years. Finally, finally skinny, and UTTERLY MISERABLE. Freezing cold all day every day. Miserable. Can't sleep. Have no energy. Losing hair, yeah. My mom sadly touched my hair the other day and, shocked, said that I surely had more hair than this before. Yeah...
I can't play piano as well as I did before either. I can feel it. My hands are too cold, and they can't move fast anymore. That's why I make kind of ballad versions of every piano song now, or force myself to bang out harder songs. It tires me out. But no matter what I do all day (I walk, trying to gain muscle in my legs and also garden, rake, pull weeds outside etc) even if I'm exhausted, I can't sleep.
My mind doesn't leave me alone. As dead-tired my whole being feels, the thoughts swirling in my head, as if from another person, won't let me sleep. Plans of what I'm going to eat and NOT going to eat the next day. Counting and re-counting the calories and every possibility, and what's okay to add or what I have to subtract or substitute in my daily diet. I do it all day long too, recounting calories. It terrifies me when I don't have a plan. I can't NOT have a plan. I have to know how many calories I eat every day. I plan every single bite. Make sure the fruits are in the fridge.
My eye sight is getting worse, I can feel it. I can't even squint to lessen the blurriness anymore. Driving tires me out- the steering wheel is so heavy. I'm scared all the time, of every little thing. Becoming skinny was supposed to make me burst with self-confidence, and become an outgoing, bright girl.
Now I'm a college drop-out, crying every day with no sense of purpose, overcome by depression, anorexia, self-hatred... not being useful to anyone hurts so much. I try so hard every day to do something useful to my family... but I feel so worthless. I want to volunteer, go to third world countries or even just around here and help out with everything, anything, but I have no energy and I HATE, HATE it, not having energy. My legs are permanently numb and can't jump or run...
Masochist?
I hate being anorexic, I love being anorexic. If I didn't like seeing my bony face, toneless bony thin legs, arms, and not having any love handles or butt so much, I could maybe recover. If I didn't love seeing that number on the scale every single morning, maybe I could.
5 foot 3.5 inches (162cm)
86 pounds (39kg)
If it hadn't been so rewarding after so much suffering, hunger, pain and time, it'd be easier to recover. Who could love a period-less, bony, baggy-eyed, pale-lipped, buttless, chestless, brittle-haired, self-hating, depressed, unconfident, silent (oh yeah, I stopped talking a few weeks ago. I just keep every single thought inside of me. Only my little journal knows. Not even God knows.) home-bound 19 year old girl like me.
Whenever my mom is out of the house, for example, on her 30 minute fast-walk, or at the store or a meeting, I feel so anxious. I need her to come home. Just to be near me. Then I feel... better. But nothing ever completely heals my insane, uncontrollable feeling of fear, hopelessness, helplessness, dread, despair and lonesomeness.
Who--what--am I, and how do I... learn to live again?
