hi i'm a diamond and this is my story...

Anorexia isn't about being fat, it's about having fat.

Okay. This is a long and complicated story. It started maybe two years ago. Yeah, that sounds about right. Back then, it was nothing more than me feeling sad about myself: How fat I was, how untalented I was, how stupid I was and etc. I tried telling my mom once, but she didn't do anything to fix it then. And she would do is tell me I'm overreacting. She herself has depression and other mental and physical health issues. She also has 12 kids who I fought for attention. Well, I used to.

It got worse one and a half years ago. It was sometime over the summer and my mom broke down in front of me saying that she can't handle all the kids anymore and that she raised us horribly and she doesn't know what she did to deserve kids who drive her as crazy as she is. I took this very personal and stayed away from her as much i could. Seeing her would make me feel sick and useless because she is stuck with me.

Our relationship never really got better. A year ago, by the beginning of school, my mom tried to sign my older sister up for a club, but they wanted more members, so she volunteered me. The club focuses on helping your community and after the first meeting, I knew it wasn't for me. I told my mom that I didn't want to do any clubs because I don't have skill for sports or the generosity to help others. She flipped and broke down again. Asking why her kids are leaches and can't give her anything positive. She then targeted me and said that my lazy is the reason why she is so stressed ask the time. I only cause problems and I never do anything. That... Was unfortunately the first time I cut myself. Nobody noticed of course. I got so caught up in feeling hurt, unworthy, and unhappy that I just did it. I had heard it from stories and shows that these crazy people do it for pleasure, but other people do it because it gives them relief. I don't know if I can explain my first experience as relief, but it calmed me down quite a bit. It was on my arm, but high up and not deep. It healed fast with no scars. After that, I began distancing myself from people because I still believe I am worthless. It is no point in trying to "people" anymore. Nobody ever listened and I'm told to shut up. Everybody thinks my way of speaking is unintelligent and unimportant, so I fold my tongue as best I can around them. It had been quite a while since I cut myself again. Maybe 5 months? I didn't really count because I didn't see it as recovering. I was just refraining because I didn't want to get caught. At school, I had been... Unfortunate and was compared to me sister. She is the most popular and looks like a model. She is thin, pretty, well dressed, active, funny, and easy for them to get along with. I'm am her duff. People use me to get into her friend circle. That is my use I guess.... But I don't like it.

Aside from school, I live with 5 siblings and they all hurt me mentally and physically. The youngest one is only seven and she throws things at me, calls me fat and obese, tells me not to eat because I'm a pig, and walks away disgusted when she sees me. That would ruin everybody. Her constant teasing resulted in my first eating disorder. I messed with my sleep schedule so I would eat during the day. I would wake up at 2 in the afternoon, eat at 7 when it was dinner time (significantly less, but nobody noticed) and stayed up until 5 am without eating since I was afraid of waking the others. I did that for around... Two weeks. Then it shifted to me eating bread after I wake up and then dinner and repeat for about four weeks. I drank nothing other than water because water is more natural to drink. Milk I treated like powder and juice was sickening. The first one was hard to explain. Food made me feel inhumane because I was eating it. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything used to be alive and then I was eating it and it made me fat as karma. Well, I didn't lose much weight and it had no positive effects. I was still always depressed and scratched myself. I used my nails and would just go at my legs until they were swollen and red. They would scab up a bit, but not bleed. By the time I had started scratching myself, I had gotten a therapist. I see her every Thursday, but it doesn't help much. She doesn't know I cut myself and I can't tell her. I lied when we first met and I'm a horrible person for it. The first time I cut myself with a blade was after I stayed at my friends house for a whole week. Her family is from Trinidad , so big meals were plentiful in the house and skipping them were unacceptable. I had to eat. They made me. They made me eat breakfast lunch and dinner. I still scratched myself after everybody was asleep- getting paranoid that I was getting fatter and fatter. It was true. After I got home, the first thing my mom said was that I got bigger. She said my cheeks looked full and she could Clearly see my belly button hole pressed yup stained the fabric of my shirt. That a kind of the last straw for me. I locked myself in my room and broke open a pencil sharpener and took the blade out. I didn't care about anything or know anything, so I just did what I did with my nails. Since finger nails aren't as sharp, you have to press hard and go slow to make any mark or feel anything, so that is what I did. Over and over again. Maybe 10 times before I stopped? Idk. It was trickling down my thigh and onto my sheet, so I stopped and cleaned myself up. It happened 5 times after that. My movements got faster and the marks seemed to multiply. It isn't much other than the feeling that I like better than whatever the hell else. I forget what bothered me and the only thing I can focus on is blood. The stinging. The marks I see. There is no comfort in it, just easy distraction hidden by false senses of safety afterwards. After I'm done, I do feel calmer, but I know IT is just because I can't focus on my old issue anymore. There were many other incidences I'm too lazy to say.

On to me now. I've been eating less often. I skip breakfast before school and skip lunch during school. Again, nobody notices. I feel invisible. Nothing is right with me anymore. I feel fat in my clothes. When I eat I get bloated and look even more fat. I'm still teased about my weight and I feel like all the time. The second disorder slowly trickled in. I had been thinking about it for a long time...i can't sing anyway, so bulimia seemed like a choice to be. I'm open for anything to make me not feel like a pile of lard. I've only done it four times so far. Starting last week. It was hard at first, but it is slowly becoming normal for me I think. I know the health risks, but I just want them to stop. People are so rude. They are dropping my own mind. I decided to do it because I think this way now. I tried to change my self image, but I can't while ask the off. It is impossible.

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