my story: part#2

Hello, you guys out there!
I know, you read my last post. Noone of you commented on it though. (thank you kat! :))
I dont really care, cause I dont want pity,but sometimes, I just simply wish, Id have an opinion on such serious topics.Sometimes.

Well, anyways I hope my story doesnt trigger anyone and I am not sure yet, if I wanna include any numbers. Cause, when I noticed, that you read silently, I felt a little bad.
It felt, like I was doing harm by sharing my story and getting rid of these racking thoughts and memories of mine.
But it helps me.
And thats the intention behind it.
Other than maybe helping others 
by being a shocking example - something you dont wanna turn into. Hopefully.

So today I am going to share another part of my history. ED-wisely.

So I was back home.

I ate 5 meals a day. Every day. I went back to school.On a daily basis.

But I hated it.

School was a fricken torture for me every.single.day.

The moment I got back to school, I had been gone for nearly 5 month. And obviously my friends knew.

But over time, not only my friends knew. My whole grade knew.

Every teacher.

The grade below, the grade above.

It was awful. Really. Everyone was starring at me. Looking at my skinny-sticky legs and talking about me.

Sometimes laughing. 

But that wasnt the worst, the worst, I thought, was, that some younger girls were looking up to me. 

Seeing me as a role model....Thinking about that, it still kills me.

My marks werent good anymore, I still couldnt find back my concentration and I couldnt stand sitting on a damn chair all day long (other than it hurt my bum anyways).

I had just been released from a clinic in which I wasnt allowed to go out more than 30minutes a day. 

Where sometimes I wasnt allowed to go out at all. And where I always had to have company, when I wanted to leave the building.

I wanted to be finally free again. I wanted to use my freedom, to run around. To exercise, to make myself so tired during the day that I would fall to bed in the evening and sleep right away.

I wanted to use the fuel, I was giving my body for the first time in years.

So it was itching in my feet all day and I was always eager to get up and get going while I was in class.

I quit school.

My teachers recommended to do so, so I left my gymnasium after 12 years of school 

(in Germany u need 13 years to archieve a High School Diploma that allows you to go to University)

For the first time in a while I felt free. I felt happy and I felt mature.

All of my friends where still going to school, but I already graduated. For once, I wasnt the sick one, the looser anymore.

But my dad definitely had a different opinion on that one.

He told me that I am "a looser". Moreover he told me, that I am a failure.

And not his daughter anymore.

He would have no reason to be proud of me anymore, because I quit school and would never go to university. I would never become a doctor or a lawyer or anything great like that.

I would just always be a failure.

And he didnt want a failure to be his child.

He kicked me out.

Abonded his own daughter from the family. 

I was not party of his perfect family anymore. I was making too much trouble and he had enough of that, he said. I was just to much work, to much effort, he would have had to invest. He wasnt willing to do so.

So I moved out.

Fast forward.

Moved in my own apartment, started an Internship at a well-known 5*- Hotel, had alot of fun there.

My parents divorced. My mum didnt have a place to live, I didnt have money, she moved in with me.

We finally bought a kitchen ( didnt have one before). 

Still ate 5 meals a day.

But then my work schedule changed.

It wasnt steady like in the beginning anymore. Sometimes I would start at 4am, sometimes at 7am, sometimes at 9pm, sometimes noon,once end my day at 2pm, sometimes end it at 3 am 

(and start an hour later again with work...)

On the inside, the safe cage of eating-routine, I had build myself by eating at set times everyday, was breaking. Just like the "Jenga-tower" when you remove pieces little by little.

I still had lots of struggles eating in front of others, so at work my breakfast would usually be

 
a Cappucino and a cigarette. 
Sometimes I would be willing to eat a granola bar or a pear.

At noon, we didnt really have the time to eat. If we had a couple of minutes, Id eat an apple.

Granny Smith, the green ones. Nothing else. Never.


If Id have nightshift, Id eat the usual stuff at home, but my portions were shrinking. 

And at work, I couldnt get mysel to eating anything. It was too late to eat!! *insert panic here* 

During 3 month, I lost 6kg, which is approx. 12 lb.

I was feeling weird, sick and weak.

Like the outsider again.

Everyone noticed, I lost weight and didnt eat much, They bothered me everyday.

Tried to make me eat. Gave me chocolate (I would hide in my pocket after acting like I ate it)

and candy and and and.

Then my boss called me.

Head manager of the Hotel.

Me, tiny,  and insecure Ms.Mary.

He told me to take 8 weeks off, go to the hospital, gain strength and then come back.

He said: Id work hard, very good and reliable, so I would keep my job when I return.

I was impressed.

And I had no other choice than taking the offer, cause I couldnt even set one feet for another anymore and I was freezing to death in the cold of a harsh November.

My mom picked out a clinic for me and drove me there. 

I was anxious and mad, but I was too tired and exhausted to do anything other than packing my stuff and giving in. Giving my life in some therapists hands again. Only 6 month after I had left the other behind.

I was lighter than ever this time.

My skin was pale and see-through. My back was full of tiny little hair and my eyes where way too big for my head. And then the shock:

They didnt wanna keep me there.

My weight was too dangerous, the wanted a feeding tube.

I didnt.

I cried, I kicked, I screamed, I begged. and it worked.
They kept me there, but they had stricter rules for me than for the others.

The clinic was mixed. There were 2 Bulimics, another Anorexic and others that had Burn-Out and Depression or Anxiety, nothig to do with EDs.
All the ED patients there got contracts with set weight goals. And a system of punishment and reward.
( again, WTF why do all clinics think that helps?!)

For me, the contract got changed.

I wasnt allowed to leave the building for 3 weeks,

I had to gain 10lb during the fist 4 weeks,

I wasnt allowed to be visited any other day than sunday,

I had to eat 6 meals AND drink 4 ensures daily (controlled obviously)

I got weight and measured every morning.

But the worst:

I had to stay in the clinic every day until I gained at least 15lb.

Everyone else stationed there were allowed to get visits, leave the clinic for a walk AND to leave and try out being at home EVERY WEEKEND.
I was the only one, that stayed there. No visitors, no TV. No therapy, no other patients.
Only me, music, food,food,food and the Ensures.
The only conctact I had with civilisations between friday eve and monday morning was the nurse that "fed" me everyday and my mum that came for 2h on sundays.
When my brother visited me, we sneaked out of the clinic.
We spent an awesome day walking in the woods, but I didnt come home in time and they noticed that I broke the rules.

 I had to drink 6 ensures that day.

I hated the clinic and I never met the conctract. I really didnt purge, puke, restrict or anything. They controlled me so much, that I didnt even have the chance to do so. But they wanted me to do impossible things. Gain 15lb in 4 weeks.
I mean, I still cant believe they think a body can do that.

Mine at least couldnt.

...
to be continued.