Flirting with Ana…

So I’ve started having ANA habit urges. It started about a month ago because I had gotten to the heaviest I’ve ever been (120 lb) and I was horrified because I remembered well the days of being 102, 105 lb. Yes, I was a child but those numbers still stuck in my mind because I hadn’t really grown since those weights and I was used to always being the smallest girl in any room. I wanted to at least get back down to where I was at college last semester where I felt totally healthy and normal (110 lb).

The other piece, at it always is with self destructive behaviors, I’ve been battling with some mental stuff. I was out of college for the second time, hadn’t completed a full year of school in 3 years, was watching my brother get into every college he applied to, and still dealing with the fairly recent trauma of my rape.

I was definitely looking for some form of control in my life.

My parents had decided for me that I didn’t get to go back to my college. I didn’t have my own room. I didn’t have friends. I felt purposeless and directionless.

I bounced back and forth from thinking okay at least my weight/appearance is one thing I have control and could succeed at, to I’m such a massive failure, I don’t deserve to indulge in anything.

Also when my self esteem goes low and my depression starts spiraling I start looking for more new self destructive behaviors to try. It’s how I tried smoking weed for the first time, having tons of meaningless casual sex, wanting to get drunk most weekends, and cutting for the first time.

Plus I was also spending a lot of time on Tumblr. Oh, Tumblr…

It’s just a sea of thinspo, meanspo and self hating triggers.

I also was watching my mom skip most meals and seeing her legs get thinner than mine. I was horrified and worried and pestering her about it constantly but it also made me a bit jealous, and competitive.

I’m the daughter, I should be skinnier.

I also think as I’m writing all this that a part of me believes if I can get back to my old weight, I’ll get back to my old self. Succeeding in school, sleeping regularly (I’m writing this at 4:45 AM) and not riddled with panic attacks and suicidal ideation.

I wouldn’t label myself an anorexic because I don’t have a calorie limit or obsess about it consistently. I know it is a very serious and dangerous disease and I don’t claim at all to know how true sufferers feel. But I am horrifyingly starting to see, how far too addicting this all can be.

Even the hunger pains and the knowing you resisted is so addicting. It’s strange.

And of course watching the numbers go down on the scale.