I'm leaving dailybooth.
At least for now.
I can't tell you if I'll be back or not,
but I'm not going to be back anytime soon.
I'm going through a depression in life,
a quite severe one this time.
I've left only one picture up, in hopes maybe it will help someone later.
I'm sorry to all of my followers,
that I'm leaving you behind.
Thank-you for making my time at dailybooth so very enjoyable.
Thanks especially to @sverbrugge and @NeKrisO for welcoming me so greatly in my very first pictures, nearly a year ago when I started.
And thank-you to @angelofsecrets for making me still feel welcome in my latest dailybooth pictures, and for basically being a friend.
Also a thank-you goes out to all of the haters out there who showed me that there are always going to be those people who don't approve of anyone other than themselves.
I thank all of you.
Except all of the weirdos that sent me naked pictures of themselves WITHOUT my permission or asking; a huge NO THANK-YOU goes out to your bunch.
Farewell, dailybooth. God knows when we shall meet again.
This is my story. It's a lot but I don't care. It needed to be out at some point.
This was at the beginning of my first dive into anorexia, almost four years ago.
I was 12 or 13.
I was severely depressed.
I don't even want to show my "after" pictures. But as you can see in this picture, I was at a healthy weight. Even though, I believed I was "fat" in every way.
At 13 years old and 5'4", I lost down to 98 pounds. Still believing I was fat, I thought anything I ate was a "binge." And so came the purging food and cutting myself as punishment for eating. I began feeling faint almost all of the time. But it made me feel lighter when I was suffering. Like I was progressing when I felt dizzy.
But my friends started noticing. They noticed the personality change. They noticed me not eating lunch or not going to lunch or eating very little at lunch and then staying in the bathroom for a while. They noticed the weight loss under my baggy clothes and tight belts to keep my old jeans up.
They noticed my depression.
But when they started talking more and more about it to me, I began to resent them. Every time they tried to get me to eat, I would snap or lie. "I'm NOT anorexic! I just don't feel good." "LEAVE ME ALONE." "I didn't go to lunch because I ate lunch with my teacher." "I need to study. I'll eat later." But each lie was beginning to be overused. I had to have something new each day to tell them. Finally I just stopped talking to them all together. Happy was for when I became skinny. Not while I was a fat lard. I didn't even deserve friends. I didn't deserve food.
When I wrote them off, I became more depressed. I didn't know what to do. No one was there for me. No one was like me. Eating an apple a day became half an apple a day which became eating four carrots and one grape. To nothing. I was starving myself. I was slowly killing myself.
My home life went on the same as usual. My mom was never home and my step-father sexually assaulted me every day and on some days would hit me several times and then lock me in my bedroom. There was only a lock on the outside of my door, never on the inside. So, of course, I never really ate at home in the first place. Before the anorexia.
But, I started collapsing in the shower more often. I started taking caffeine pills an hour before I had to take a shower, though. And that sort of helped, but kept me up at night.
I don't know what my weight was when I tell you my next story. After 98 pounds, I didn't weigh myself as often anymore. But I would say I was maybe about 90-92 pounds, maximum.
I finally had enough one day. I was tired of living. I didn't deserve life. I didn't want to live. I hadn't wanted to live since I dove into anorexia. I was walking through school in a daze. I came home in a daze. With no emotion, no crying, no anything, I went to the bathroom cabinet and opened it. The blue pills that made me sleep really well were on the top shelf. I grabbed the pill bottle and my bottled water I retrieved out of the refrigerator before going to the bathroom. The bottle was new, with at least 40 tiny, blue sleeping pills. I opened the bottle of water, and then the bottle of pills. I dumped half into my mouth first, and took a huge gulp of water. I then repeated with the rest.
I don't remember much of anything after that. I went to sleep and woke up two days later in a hospital bed with my entire body strapped down and numb. I had doctors and nurses on both sides of me, my mom nowhere to be found, as usual. Unfamiliar voices started filling my ears. I couldn't make out what they were saying, a lot of jibberish. I made out one voice out of the crowd of voices saying, "do you know what your name is?" I tried to respond, but I couldn't. I couldn't move and I couldn't talk and I could barely even see. I immediately started panicking and then blacked out again. I found out I had a seizure soon after when I awoke again.
I spent 16 days in the hospital's psychiatric wing and honestly think it was the best time of my life. There were so many people like me! They knew how I felt! I wasn't alone! I still ate in my room and disposed of a lot of it, but I could finally talk to someone about it! I finally was not alone in my depression. I wasn't alone in my eating disorders. I wasn't alone at all.
I don't even remember my peers from the hospital's names, now. But I remember how much they helped me. And I don't remember what they did. But I remember how much gratitude I have toward all of them, now. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be alive right now. The hospital saved me the first time, but if I was just sent home, I would have tried again. I would have succeeded at some point.
I've had many more bouts with anorexia, bulimia, and depression, but thanks to my new self-esteem and old friends, I don't go far with it anymore. And I now and forever will know if I'm feeling down,
I'm not alone in it.
