Starving And Cutting And Other Fun Stuff

There’s not really an appropriate picture to add to this so enjoy whatever random picture I add once I’m done and find one, I don’t know what it will be yet as I write this but I’m excited.

I like to think of myself as a pretty chill person now. I love my body and myself and food especially, but I used to starve and cut myself and it feels so long ago it’s just like whaaaat I did that? That’s insane. But anyway I thought it would be interesting to write about it so Lego.

I’m writing about both of these because they kinda go hand in hand, the self harm started first and the eating problems came along later, but they increased the self harm, forming an addiction cycle.

When I was young, as in primary school young, I’d get hurt a lot because I was clumsy, and that’s when the self harm low-key started. At first I’d scratch a wound more because the injuries got attention and care (this does not transfer to later since I’d do whatever I can to hide it), this involved other minor things to worsen an injury, but it was nothing major. I also started biting my finger, which sounds small and dumb but it escalated from there, the finger biting happened when I got nervous and anxious which was a lot, and I bit my finger so much that the skin was completely raw and ruined, my finger looks fucked up to this day and it won’t go back to normal, i would literally bite all the skin off it and I still bite it when I’m anxious and I also bite all the skin around my nails till they bleed and the inside of my mouth too actually, but it’s not a major problem now, I’m mentioning it because I guess that’s where it all stemmed from.

I remember the first time I properly hurt myself, not just worsening a wound. I was walking to the bus stop after school and I can’t remember why but it was most definitely because of my group of friends who weren’t really friends, I dug my nail into my wrist and just went back and forth as I walked all the way to the bus stop till the skin broke and bled. I still have that scar but it’s really faint. The scars on my thighs however are really promininent and my right thigh just has these white lines all over it.

My mum discovered my first scar and I blamed it on the cat even though it was clearly not because it was a perfect line. After that I never cut my arms or wrists, I moved onto my stomach and thigh, mostly thigh however where no one could see. I mostly started cutting because I’d get bullied at school as a kid, your typical stuff, you know: calling me names and shit, taking and destroying my things, throwing my things in the trash and laughing and picking on me for everything I did: the way I spoke, the way I walked, the way I ate, how little I ate, how I then stopped eating. Eventually I became self conscious over everything i did and it sounds dumb to me now because right now I don’t give a single shit what anyone thinks of me and I wish I didn’t then but as a kid it got to me and for some reason I didn’t just leave them. Instead I kept going back to them, if I could go back I’d just hang out by myself, which I now proudly do. Going back caused this entire problem.

Well anyway, the food thing. I got made fun out of for my weight and the way I ate, even though looking back It was a completely fine and healthy weight, but I was a dumb kid so I started eating less and less. First I would stop eating lunch because I was scared I would get made fun of for how I eat, then i skipped breakfast because it was easy or i would just grab an apple and tell my mum I was in a hurry, and later I would skip dinner due to my ‘big lunch’ which I didn’t have. So that leaves us with 3 minus 3 meals, zero meals. I love maths. But after not eating any meals for a long time you really do get physically exhausted, so I’d eat chocolate bars and entire packs of skittles to keep me going. I was also kinda addicted to energy drinks at the time where I’d stay up all night playing runescape and drinking energy drinks so that easily increased and I stocked up on those. I’d take out my lil can of energy drink from my blazer every lunch. Sometimes it would get difficult to skip every meal because you can only make up so many excuses for not eating so if I did eat something, I discovered that I could force myself to throw it up and so I did. I won’t go into detail for every time because there are a lot and they’re all quite similar, but I do have one memory of going to McDonald’s to use their toilets to throw up. So anyway, this happened for a long time and it was, not for it to sound cliche but the darkest time of my life because it was a constant cycle of not eating, eating and feeling bad thus vomiting, vomiting and feeling bad about it thus cutting, cutting and feeling bad about cutting thus cutting some more. Logic? Nope, it was non existent. I don’t know how to quite describe it but whenever I had the urge to cut because of people at school or the whole food thing my mind would quite literally feel dark, it was like it was all fuzzy because I wasn’t thinking straight and I was just in this mess of dark thoughts and wanted nothing except to cut. Eventually I wanted to cut for no reason, I would just get sad and want to cut and then felt bad for doing it thus did it more. I spent hours in the bathroom, I would cut myself, using scissors and the blade from a razor which I would take out, along with other things too, whatever I could use and cut deep enough. I would watch the skin split and the blood pool up as I dug a blade in and dragged it and would sit there for forever as it wouldn’t stop bleeding for a long time. I’d sit there holding toilet paper to my thigh and just stare into space in silence till it stopped and I felt better but also nothing. I wouldn’t have that intense urge and sadness and anger anymore but I didn’t really have anything any more and when it stopped bleeding i’d put my jeans or whatever back on and go back to my computer and continue like nothing happened till I had the urge to cut again. I tried hitting myself with things sometimes but not that much since it wasn’t as satisfying.

I didn’t really cut at school only a handful of times (I mean that sounds like a lot but considering the amount of times I did it, a handful sounds small), but there was one time I remember where I thought it stopped bleeding but it kept bleeding and came out through my school trousers, I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal since they’re black but I guess blood shows up anyway. I remember panicking and my girlfriend at the time helped me, I cleaned it up as much as I could and hoped it wouldn’t be too noticeable.

I mean I guess there’s not that much more to say, it would be a cycle of cutting, starving and vomiting and it got pretty bad, I would do it everyday. There were some pretty encouraging Twitter accounts which didn’t help either (i don’t think they meant to be, it was just people stuck in the same dark and obsessive mindset), I was obsessed and couldn’t stop and it’s all I wanted to do. I’ve never hated myself more and thought about killing myself multiple times, not only because of the cutting and the eating problem which I don’t know what to call because i wasn’t officially diagnosed with any eating disorders, but there was definitely a problem, but also because I was self conscious of every movement i made at school since the bullying thing occurred constantly. Once, one of my supposed friends found out about my self harm and told everyone else and the teachers, but not to help, because she only picked on me for it more. The teachers called my mum after I begged them not to and that’s all they did, literally nothing else, they didn’t ask me anything they just said we have to tell your mum and they did. Thanks for the help yo. When I got home I knew my mum knew so I showed her the one small scar I had on my arm and told her I got upset and did it and I wouldn’t do it again, but of course that was a lie. I had plenty of raw open wounds on my thigh, overlapping because I needed the space and i didn’t stop.

When everyone at school found out I remember I started crying in French class but my French teacher was the best (even though everyone else hated her) but I loved French and the teacher and she let me sit in an empty classroom by myself to chill and so I did. No one really said anything to me about it but a weird thing did happen, where someone from my French class who I didn’t talk to came into the classroom and talked to me and comforted me, which was unexpected and super nice so thank you to that random guy who did that. We didn’t speak after that though.

I guess all the cutting and starving experiences were similar so I’ll talk a bit about how I stopped. My best friend and now boyfriend would basically talk to me all night every day trying to get me to stop, talking logically about it till eventually it kinda got to me that I should stop. Although I mostly stopped because whenever I promised him I would stop I didn’t and I felt super guilty for it. At first it caused me to cut more because I was so mad at myself because I didn’t want to disappoint him but eventually I actually stopped doing it, at first I only stopped because I didn’t want him to leave but then I stopped for myself too. And all it took was months of convincing and feeling the worst I’ve ever felt. The eating thing got better along the way too as I started getting some clarity from not cutting. I also just remembered, I poured boiling water on my hand once, that was fun, but anyway where was I? Oh yea the eating thing started getting better, it started off with me promising to eat one sandwich a day for my now boyfriend, and then I guess the overly flat stomach which would give me awful pains and lack of energy and extreme hunger eventually got more exhausting than caring about what other people who don’t give a shit about me think. The hunger was really awful, it’s shocking just how strong and painful hunger is after days of not eating, I’ve never experienced anything like it, that hunger sometimes caused binging on food which caused vomiting. But as I was saying I got better and better, mostly for my boyfriend because I wanted to stop for him, he was the only person I really cared about and the person that was there for me the most. I didn’t really have any friends, not real ones, except for one friend whom I’m still friends with to this day, Lisa Turtle waddup, but my now boyfriend was the pure motivation. Eventually the small progress got a little easier and easier, till eventually somehow, I don’t even know how, I found myself at college no longer cutting and eating normally and enjoying my food. I guess leaving the shitty secondary school stuff and people helped. It kinda felt like that last little jump just happened overnight and I turned into how I am now, but it actually took a long time. I am now completely and utterly better, not having cut or starved for years and I almost feel like that didn’t even happen because I was such a different person with such a different mindset back then. It has been years but after I got better I occasionally would catch myself feeling pleasure for skipping a meal, but I’d be like fuck no and eat to prove to myself that I don’t care and that I won’t starve myself. That hasn’t happened for a long time though. A while ago I also hit and then scraped my arms on the desk when mad at myself in one moment but it wasn’t awful and was sort of an anomaly. Like I said at the start I am now really happy with myself and my body and I don’t give a fuck but yep, that’s the story of when I gave a little too much fuck which caused a problem I got obsessed with. I’ve honestly never felt worse in my entire life but it’s over now so that’s cool. This isn’t a big secret or anything but it’s not like I purposely great everyone saying hi I used to cut myself, so if you know me and you didn’t know this then, hi I used to cut myself. I don’t care about my scars either they’re just there chilling. The only bad thing really is that my mum still doesn’t know about all the scars on my thigh (which sucks because I end up wearing long jeans when it’s 30 degrees out to cover them) because when I was cutting I obviously didn’t want to tell her and when I stopped I honestly just kind of forgot and now it’s been years so it’s kinda weird saying hey by the way remember that one cut, well there’s loads on my thigh. So if you are reading this mum for some strange reason, then hey I didn’t know how and when to tell you but now you know so that’s cool.

Also you might ask why I didn’t just stop and it’s hard to explain but it’s not easy to just stop. Sometimes I wanted to stop, I even made a doctor’s appointment to see a therapist type person but chickened out and never went, and I mean I did put the effort into actually stopping so yea I did want to stop. Although i also didn’t want to stop. It gave me some sort of sadistic pleasure and made me feel better, or what I thought was better at least and it literally felt like I was addicted, I couldn’t stop even when I knew it wasn’t good and wasn’t really helping, I did it anyway, like I said I was in a completely different mindset and there was no convincing me for years, I wasn’t thinking straight.

Well I guess that’s it, hope you enjoyed it? I guess it’s not something you exactly enjoy reading but there it is.

Peace.

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