March 13, 2017

Today I had an appointment to meet with my psychologist. I told her everything. She made me tell her. My dad forced me to. But my psychologist made me tell my own story. It was hard. It felt like failure.

I know it isn’t. It ain’t failure. It’s a succes. But that’s not how it felt like.

I haven’t got what I wanted. Not yet. I haven’t got a diagnose. She told me to take it very seriously. She is going to discuss with the upper-psychologist (?) about what to do with this. What to do with my story. What to do with my behavior. What to do with my thoughts.

She will call me tomorrow. Or on Friday. That’s 4 days from now. That really is a long time for me. The days are long. I’m tired all day, every day. So days are like, always too long for me.

It might take 4 days for her to call me. I don’t know what she will tell me over the phone. Maybe I’ll have to get a treatment somewhere else. She told me today there are external healthcare which can provide the best care for me.

But do I want the care? Yes and no. It’s a struggle. A conflict. A dilemma.

I know I should get some help for this behavior of mine. But I feel like I’m not ready yet. Will I ever? Don’t think so.

But I don’t think I’m already at the point where I am already the stereotypical “girl with an eating-disorder”. You can’t see my bones. I’m still eating. As less as I could, but still; I’m eating.

I’m counting my calories. Today was a good day for me. I hadn’t eaten all of my lunch. I was proud. I ám proud. I had gone to school today, and still hadn’t eaten all my lunch.

Today I woke up, and I felt like I should weigh my lunch again. I left a few more pounds at home. I thought it would’ve been too much. Because of the calories. Carrots got a lot of calories, you know… I didn’t know before.

Tonight, when I got home after the appointment with my psychologist, the 1.5 hour drive and dinner with my parents, I weighed the “left-overs” of my lunch. I weighed it again because I would know what my real calorie-intake of the lunch was. My dad was horrified. I asked me what I was doing. I didn’t hide my action. They already know I’m struggling. Why not just be honest in the one place I can be and feel like myself?

So, I went to school. Crying in the morning because I felt awful. It’s the depression. In the train, I ate my breakfast. 225 ml skinny yogurt. Weighed, of course. A guy kept looking at me while I ate. I hated him for it. Like he hadn’t ever seen somebody eaten their breakfast in the train.

In school, a friend told me I looked like a walking ghost. Gee, thanks. I felt like it, tho. So, I wasn’t hurt by it. Another classmate told me it appeared like I was just there physically; not mentally. Like I was living on a cloud. Far away from reality.

I am. I am living far from reality. My reality is food. My obsession with food. My control over my food. Not over my body yet, because I still maintain the same weight for three days now: 45,5 kg. My Body Mass Index is 45,5 / (1,64 * 1,64) = 16,9.

So, I cut in my lunch. What did I eat for lunch today?

  • 300 g carrots
  • 400 g cherrytomatoes
  • 115 g cucumber
  • 40 g red pepper
  • 60 g orange pepper

I know it’s bad for a 18 year old girl who needs a lot more energy to just get through the day. But it’s my addiction. I don’t feel like I’m ready to give up yet.

It’s like I’m being an alcoholic. I need more (less) to get the good feeling of not feeling those extreme emotions anymore. I love feeling less. I love escaping from the real world. I love escaping from reality.

I love obsessing over food. But it makes me tired, too. I just want to enjoy food. I was never like this. I lóved food. I still, I think. I love good food. I just don’t like the calories the food contains.

Today was my best day so far in this battle. My calorie-intake today was 329.

I got a few days left to lose some more weight. I don’t know what will be next. I don’t know what my psychologist will tell me on the phone in 4 days.



March 11, 2017

It’s Saturday and I’m in pain.

I’m blowing up my own mind. My boyfriend is. My dad is.

I wrote in my last post about confessing to my parents about the eating-thing. Because I had gone mad, I didn’t know what to do anymore. I needed help because the only one who I trusted didn’t wanna talk to me anymore because he couldn’t handle it anymore. He still can’t. He wanted to break up with me this afternoon. I didn’t want him to.

We were at a party last night and he hadn’t talked to me at all. The minute he talked to me, he was mad because of me throwing up a few days ago. Well, I don’t want it either. But sometimes I feel like I have to. It’s like I’m being forced by myself.

I’m stuck in my own head. I’m mentally ill. There’s too much for me going on in my head.

And that’s why I stopped eating properly. I don’t feel as many emotions then. It feels good. It feels like a distraction of all the things going on in my head.

Because I’m so fucking tired. I don’t want to be in any more pain. I just want the pain to stop. Make it stop, please. I’m done fighting.

I’ll have to confess to my psychologist too, on Monday. The thing is; I don’t want to. But if I don’t, my boyfriend really IS breaking up with me. My parents will be even more horrified and I will be thinner and thinner. It won’t ever be enough. I know that. It’s not okay for a young woman to have a weight of a 12 year old. But it feels soooooooo good. It’s an addiction.

Am I ready to be cured? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I feel like I HAVE to. I’m being forced by everyone around me.

I just want it. I don’t want to stop. Not until I got the ‘label’. It’s just a game. I can stop whenever I like. I just don’t want to stop just now. That will feel like failure. Like I can’t even get some label for the addiction of getting thinner. When I’m being honest, and I really am now, I just want it. I want to go on like this until I’m getting the label anorexia. It’s absolutely crazy. I know that. I need help. I know that. I just want to go on until I get it, and then I will get help for it. Does it make any sense to you? Because to me it does. But for my loved ones, it’s unforgivable to go on like this and starve myself to lose weight. They don’t want me to be unhealthy.

My boyfriend doesn’t want a girlfriend who’s instable. He wants to build on me. He can’t now, he told me. I told him to wait. He’ll see I’ll be okay again.

Just not now. But it has to be a secret. The addiction just started.


March 9, 2017

I’m going crazy.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know who to talk to.

I feel alone. I feel powerless. I feel all these emotions so fucking intense. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of those emotions.

My boyfriend is rejecting me because I wanted to throw up after dinner. I hate being fat. I don’t want my body anymore. I feel like I should lose weight faster.

I got rejected for an internship today.

I’m so fucking depressed this whole week. I can’t take it anymore. The only thing I can do is cry.

I don’t know what to do. I feel powerless.

I feel like I’m empty. Not because of the food. I just, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I’m freaking out. I’m in panic.

I don’t know who to trust. The person I trusted is rejecting me now. He won’t talk to me anymore. I tried everything. What the hell should I do?

All I can do is cry. I don’t want to feel like this. I just want to live my life to the fullest. I want to be happy again. What makes me happy? I don’t know. Him? I know this shouldn’t be the answer. But he was the first thing in my mind when I asked myself the question.

He doesn’t even know how much he means to me. Nobody else knows about my secrets of the eating-habits and throwing up. I don’t know what to do. I just don’t want to feel this anymore. I don’t know what to do. Please fucking help.



I wrote that 20:30 AM. It’s 22:00 AM now.

I told my parents. The whole stuff. The eating as less as I could, feeling the need to throw up. The thoughts.

My dad told me this can’t go on any longer. We should fight it now. The battle isn’t lost. We should fight it now, it won’t ever get easier. I know, I know, I know…

I just don’t want to. I don’t want to confess to my psychologist.

Am I anorexic? I don’t think I can already be anorexic. I’m not like a bag of bones or something. I still have fat on my body. I’m not like the stereotype “anorexic-patient”. I don’t earn it to be diagnosed with something like that…


March 7, 2017

This post won’t be about my story about being diagnosed with PTSD and how I cope with it.

This post will be about my obsessed thoughts about losing weight.

The last few days I’m really sad. I’m tired. I’m depressed. And I really am. I am diagnosed with depression.

Because of the depression, I had a lack of appetite. But now, it’s just not okay anymore. I’m losing weight on purpose. And I know it’s bad. I’m already underweight. But I don’t like my body like this. I want the fat gone. I just want to be thin.

Don’t get me wrong; I know what I’m doing. I just want to lose a little more weight. The thing is that the weight just don’t disappear as easily as I would want to. So I’m speeding up the proces by eating as less as I could.

The last few days I’ve been feeling so depressed, I can’t even describe it. I hate my body. When I ate too much the last few days, I would try to throw up. It didn’t work out the way I wanted to, but there came something. I searched for tips on the internet. I knóóów. It’s a bit dramatic.

I told my boyfriend about it the minute I threw up. He got angry. He told me I had a few hours to tell my parents or he would. I didn’t tell them, by the way. Nor did he.

When I saw him the other day, we were in a fight about it. He told me he didn’t want to live with me if I would stay this obsessed with not-eating and throwing up. I got angry. I felt betrayed. He was the only one who knew about me being obsessed with all this. I trusted him. And now he threatened to leave me if I would go on with this. He told me just to “eat like a normal person”.

“Eat like a normal person”… I don’t want to. I created an “abnormal” diet months ago, even before I was diagnosed with PTSD and depression. Just started to eat even less than the “abnormal” diet already contained.

My diet on a normal day now is like:
9:30 – breakfast: 350 ml low-fat yogurt
12:30 – lunch: 1 carrot, 0,5 paprika, 20 slices of cucumber, 7 cherrytomatoes
16:00 – 1 carrot, 0,5 paprika
18:30 – dinner: 3 boiled potatoes, 1 cup veggies, a piece of meat or fish

I think it’s okay. I’m okay with it.

Today I got upset in the bus to school. A girl from my class asked me a bunch of stuff about what I was having for lunch today.

“Just veggies? That’s all? Do you even like it? You don’t eat any bread, do you? So how do you get your proteins on a daily basis? Do you also eat something like fruit?”

… Don’t fucking bother me with those fucking questions. Mind your own damn business. Sorry for the language.

When I got home, my grandma asked me which size I was wearing. She told me she also had that size when she was younger, so I felt a bit better; I wasn’t skinny. My size is normal.

I dídn’t threw up anymore since my boyfriend asked me not to. I felt like doing it, but didn’t do it. Instead; I ate less.

In January my psychologist told me I should gain weight for EMDR. I would need the pounds on my body to cope with the effects EMDR would have on my body. I didn’t want the pounds on my body then. I don’t want them now.

When my psychologist asked me how gaining weight had gone the last few weeks, I would be honest with her, because I don’t want to lie to her. I told her it had gone awful. She would give me some sermon and I would move on. She told me it was “normal” for a depressed person to lose appetite, but not to have obsessed thoughts about losing weight and not-eating. She told me I would get anorexia as a diagnose too, if I would go on with this obsessed behaviour. She didn’t ask me for weeks how it had been going. I’m relieved. Because I’m not anorexic, you see. I got this. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but when I’m on my “ideal weight” and when I’m skinny enough when I look in the mirror, I will stop with losing weight. I will. But not yet.

Tomorrow, I will have to attend to a high-tea of my internship. It’s a nightmare. I don’t want to attend. I don’t want to be confronted with food which will make me fat. I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to be around people who are eating those foods. It makes me sad. I don’t want to throw up anymore. It hurts my throat when I do. I’m stuck in my thoughts. I will háve to attend. Just not going to eat any of those things, I told myself. Otherwise I will HAVE to throw up. Gotta stick to my diet if I want to lose weight to reach my goal.

For my next year in my study, I will have to get a new internship. I have Always been interested in caring for people who have an eating disorder. But wanting to be an intern there, meant having to eat the menu for the people with the eating disorders. I saw the menu. I was shocked. I’m not willing to eat thát amount of food. So I walked away.

Just needed to get my thoughts out here. Sorry. Thanks.