Do you know what is worst than being reproved everysingle day by those that surround? Its not accepting and hating yourself for not reaching their standards. Having your demons slithering into your head and invading your every thought. Making you forget about who your really are. Its honestly really ludicrous how you could really be dying on the inside and simply just hide it with a smile. Anywhere I went, I was always greeted with “Hey Gordita(Fatty).” It was a classical joke to them but they never realized it was like they were trying to slaughter me in the cruelest of ways. I would usually laugh it off, but it pained me being reminded of something I didn’t want to be. I tried my hardest to keep myself from breaking down but I became weakend …show more content…
Then with even more dissapointment I regrugaiated it all back up. I can still remember that horendous smell and bitter taste that was left in my mouth. With tears in my eyes I saw a glint of hope. I could finally lose weight, I thought. Maybe then they will accept and like me for who I am. It was the biggest I could have ever done. A year passed and I continued a bulimic life. I had lost 45lbs and I was satisfied with my outcome but within me I felt a empty. “Girl, give me your secret. What are you doing to lose weight?” or “Samantha, you’re look good.” Were comments I started facing and it thrilled me but for some reason I didn’t find comfort in their words. I didn’t feel beautiful, I still felt gargantuan. I pushed away my loved ones and stared becoming a lifeless, lying soul walking around without a …show more content…
I started showing symptoms of a stomach virus but living with my eating disorder I slowly killied myself to perfection. I started becoming fatigue. My family started noticing how unhealthy I actually looked. Two weeks passed and I became a living skeleton, more than I already was. My mom tried to convince me to go to the hospital but I would find a way a convince her that it was a crazy idea and that I was fine. I had an upcoming eye appoitment that Sunday and was ready to go that afternoon. That was before my mom recieved the call that my doctor had gotten into a car accident. A memory of the night before drove into her thoughts, she had awoken thinking she had heard me asking her for help. She opened her eyes but I wasnt there, I was sleeping in my room. It was impossiblethat she had heard me. It slowly filled in the puzzel and her subcousience warned her that I needed immediate help. In the hospital they immediatly put an IV into my wrist. I had a low blood pressure, cholesterol, potassium, and calcium. I was underweight and my heart was beating irreguarly. They interrogated me and hesatinly told them that I suffered with bulimia. It felt like a buliding had just dropped right above me, and it was suffocating me. Tears built up in my mothers eyes as she cried like never before. “Samantha, you nearly faced death, if you hadnt been brought in today or any day earlier,” said my doctor. A train of realization hit me, I didnt
However, these views don’t take social process into consideration. Therefore, they organized a self-help group for bulimics and anorexics known as BANISH in order to determine what societal aspects cause these disorders. The author’s group consisted mostly of college age females which is significant because this is group primarily affected by these disorders. Interestingly, the backgrounds of the women in the BANISH group are strikingly similar in that they are excellent students, good children who have very close parental relationships, from “functional” families - all having been brought up with an emphasis on thin physical appearance. The authors also allude to the fact that in today’s society, slimness is considered attractive and most worthy, while being overweight is viewed as both morally and physically wrong. Society labels heavy people as “lazy, obscene, and unhealthy”. (244) It is noted that when members of the group lost weight, they reported feeling more accepted and
There was a ninth-grade girl who seemed to be like every other ninth-grade girl, but she wasn’t, she was different from the rest. She was five-foot four and weighed a measly ninety-five pounds. You could see her bones wrapped up by a thin layer of coarse skin, but there was no muscle to be found. She lied to everyone who asked her if she had a problem. This girl didn’t eat a healthy diet, didn’t exercise her body in a healthy way, and she was slowly withering away into a walking corpse. This girl was me. I was suffering from a disease known as anorexia nervosa. Anorexia nervosa is a disease that has three main features: refusal to maintain a healthy body weight, a strong fear of gaining weight, and a distorted body image (Anorexia Nervosa). Anorexia nervosa is a fascinating difficult-to-treat disease that affects the body and the mind.
One night I was kitchen washing the dishes when all of the sudden my mother walked in and asked me if I have talked to my dad. I had replied that I hadn't heard from him in about a year. The next thing I know the words "Your Grandpa passed away yesterday morning, nobody knows were your dad is and they can't keep his body in the morgue past tomorrow." came from her mouth. I just stood there in shock, I couldn’t do anything. She told me to get ready and that we could drive up to my dads house in Ona. When we got there the windows were broken and covered up with some type of sheet and there was a piece of paper on his door that read "Go away. Just leave me alone...please.". We wrote a note and put it on the door and went home. That night I laid in my bed screaming inside my head and crying my eyes out for over a hour. In the morning I had a huge panic attack. I kept hearing ringing and buzzing noises and I could hardly breathe. It took me about thirty minutes to work up the nerve to come out of my bedroom. I ended up going
My mom, my sister, and I lifted my brother into the car. He felt as if he had eaten a ton of bricks. The towels were thrown into the car with haste. Then the car door slammed shut and off they dove to the hospital. The hospital is about 20 minutes away, 30 minutes with traffic. Since no one else went to the hospital with my mom we just have to take my brothers word that my mom sped. My mom said that all of a sudden he came out of shock. He started screaming louder and tried to make sense of what was happening. When they arrived at the hospital they were rushed to a room. The nurses cut off his blood soaked pants. They threw his shirt in a bag to get washed. the whole time my mom was gone with my brother my siblings and I prayed and talked. We had never had someone in our immediate family get this badly injured since my dad’s accident which was when my sister was just born and I (the oldest) was just a baby. My great-grandma and great-aunt were dead but other than that I haven’t really experienced much death. We knew he wouldn’t die but in the moment it seemed like anything could
Though not considered a part of my identity, my struggle with Anorexia has made an immense imprint on my life and who I am as a person. Not only did the illness itself change the way I carried myself, but the process of recovery and healing contributed to monumental personal growth in my character as well as my general outlook on life.
Bulimia was my drug, my addiction. Causing an endless vicious cycle. Bulimia is, in its very nature, a secretive mental illness that can go unnoticed by friends and family. I didn’t think anyone knew about my eating disorder because I hid it that well, I was so ashamed of myself. It’s a horrible paralyzing disease, and such a dark time for me. Robbing you from living your life. I felt remarkably alone, still I made myself alone. I found comfort in throwing up. I would binge eat,
As I stand in front of the mirror, I start to cry in anger. Purging. Dieting. Working Out. Skipping Meals. Nothing seemed to get rid of my fat. This thick layer of unwanted fat. I just wanted to get my scissors and cut it off. It was disturbing to see and I wasn’t the only one who saw it. The way people looked at me was demeaning. Their eyes gleamed mean with faces of disgust.
All awhile, my Grandmother was giving me a lecture on how important it was for me to go to school and get my education. Further, as I sweat talked my Grandmother out, I started to feel a mild pain in the lower part of my stomach. I did not bother to complain because I knew she was still annoyed with me from my earlier episodes. As the time passed by, the pain became so prominent. During lunchtime, my stomach hurt so badly that I could not eat. Not that I would have, school lunch was always nasty. However, it was different. Although my pain was almost unbearable, I still avoided calling my grandmother. I could hear her voice telling me she does not want to hear it. As the school day came to an end, my pain seemed only to get worse. I held onto my stomach as I walked to the car where my mother was waiting for me. I looked up just in time to see her roll her eyes at me. “What is the matter now, Melinda?” my grandmother said in a sarcastic tone. “Nothing,” I replied, figuring it would be a waste of my time to tell her I was really sick. I wanted to avoid another lecture. By supper time, I was wet with sweat and in so much pain that I could not move a muscle. All I could do was to lie in my bed in pain. My grandmother came up, and I could tell she acknowledged the pain I was in. Nevertheless, she was still hesitant to believe that I was in as much pain as I portrayed. Considering that I had this so many times before, I could not blame her for doubting me. She realized I was not joking when my body temperature read 104 degrees, and she had to rush me to the hospital. While at the hospital, I looked at my grandmother’s face and realized how hurting she was for not
I woke up, my eyes squinting, barley able to make out the nurses surrounding my bed as they are pushing the bed down a hallway. “Dakota wake up, It is time to wake up Dakota” I could hear one of them say. I passed out again. The next day I woke up with a tube in my chest right above my heart, blood and medication was being administered. The IV was out of my arm (At that time there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to die). My grandmother was next to me again in the same chair which she sat every night and day. I could hear her praying. She stopped, looked at me and told me everything will be fine and she was confident about it. She sat up in the chair reached out for the phone and called my mother. “Stacy, Dakota is awake, you need to come here to see your son” My grandmother looked at me with sad, tired eyes “Dakota will you be okay with your mom today while I go home, Take a shower and try to get a good night’s sleep?” “Yeah grandma, I will be okay with mom” I
My mom was laying down next to me rubbing my head and trying to make me laugh. We were all waiting for my surgeon to come to take me in. At one point, the surgeon came and told me to kiss my parents and say goodbye, I got scared because I thought I wasn’t gonna see them again, I thought they were gonna leave me forever. I started crying and tried to run away. I was kicking, screaming, and making up excuses so that they can let me go. Two nurses hold me down and tried to calm me down. The surgeon put a mask on me and told me to count to ten. The mask smelled like cherries, I couldn’t resist not to smell it. The room was spinning and all of a sudden it was pitch
With a heartbeat pounding against your ribs and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, it is hard to focus on anything but an abusive voice you try to hide from. Victims of these voices cannot escape the abuse for years on end and often are forced to face a variety of physical, social, and emotional consequences decades after their freedom. After my liberation, anorexia nervosa gave me all of these consequences, but I made it my responsibility to overcome these obstacles in order to reach the life that I deserved to live, no matter what the abusive voice said I could do.
The team had girls of all sizes and I was surrounded in an environment with so much positivity. I found myself slowly losing the control I had over food, eating more, and putting on weight. Although not happy about the weight gain, I did not feel as pressured to be stick thin and so I let it slide. I had many failed attempts over the years to restrict my food intake and accepted the fact that my wonderful self-control was gone. It started to hit me that I was losing the ideal body that I had worked so hard to get and without this body, I was losing perfection. I began to miss being underweight, being able to count my ribs through my back and going to sleep at night with my hips protruding out over my concave stomach. The idea of purging sat quietly for years in the back of my mind as I always knew it would be a last resort if I needed to lose a few pounds. With college dance program auditions coming up, I knew that I had to get back the perfect dancer body that all of those books deemed necessary for
In a society that discriminates against people, particularly women, who do not look slender, many people find they cannot - or think they cannot - meet society's standards through normal, healthy eating habits and often fall victim to eating disorders. Bulimia Nervosa, an example of an eating disorder that is characterized by a cycle of binge eating and purging, has become very common in our society. Although it generally affects women, men too are now coming to clinics with this kind of disease. This is not a new disorder. It can be brought on by a complex interplay of factors, which may include emotional, and personality disorders, family pressures, a possible genetic or biologic susceptibility, and a culture in which there is an overabundance of food and an obsession with thinness. Common signs of this problem are pre-occupation with the body, a need for control and perfection, difficult interpersonal relationships, and a low self-esteem. It seems that irrespective of the initial triggers, bulimia can become a rigid pattern, which is difficult to change. The purpose of this paper is to reason out why bulimia is detrimental to our society. It focuses on its bad effect to the health of an individual and to the society. Perhaps you do not have this kind of eating disorder but you are definitely affected by it.
The moment we stepped foot into the hospital, I could hear my aunt telling my mother that “he is in a better place now”. At that moment, something had already told me that my dad was deceased; it was like I could feel it or something. I felt the chills that all of a sudden came on my arms. As my mother and grandmother were both holding my hand, they took me into this small room. The walls were white, and it had a table with four tissue boxes sitting on the top. My other grandmother was there, and so were my two aunts, my uncles, and
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...