I can’t say I’m alright when I really ain’t.
This period of time for me has been really hard. Really, really hard. I have been closing myself away from the world and just pushing people away because I’m ashamed of how I look right now. I feel really fat and ugly and I hate myself right now. I hate myself so much that I don’t want anyone to see me this way. No thanks to this, I’m now with an almost negligent social circle of friends. Most of them remaining mere acquaintances. I have nobody. And it hurts. It hurts that I want love so much but yet I push love away. Funny ain’t it? This whole contradictory action. I push love away because I am afraid when people really get to know the real me, they’ll be disgusted and leave. Maybe because I’m afraid of getting hurt, afraid of getting burnt. I feel so lonely at times that I question my existence on this earth. I’m not going to lie, I’m really far away from God. Because I’ve built up an emotional barrier against Him. I have pushed God away and I find it hard to approach Him, after all that has happened. I question, why? Why am I born like this? Why is my career path not as smooth as some others? Why was my very first job such a struggle? Why aren’t companies picking up on my resume? Why am I not blessed with some great private sector management trainee job that has my whole career progression all planned out ahead of me? Why am I still unemployed right at this moment? Why aren’t companies calling me up? What is wrong with me? Why do I not possess a close church family? Why am I still single? Why am I so unloved? Why am I so fat? Why am I so useless? Why? Why? Why?
I feel like a failure on so many levels. A failure of life itself. A wasted 23 years. Why am I even living anyway? With all these circumstances around me, I also finally began my first treatment at the hospital for my eating disorder. I was feeling pretty anxious the whole time, wondering if this was the right thing to be doing. With my mum sitting in the appointment room with me and having the doctor question my disordered lifestyle, I felt like someone was prying open my own little dark hole that I have chosen to hide for so long. I felt like I was telling all my dirty little secrets that I have hidden from the public eye since I was 14. It was difficult and tears just came gushing while telling the doctor what I have been doing to myself since 14. Even talking about it seemed completely incredulous to me. It sounded crazy. It sounded like a crazy person talking. I have been destroying my body from the inside since 14. Starving, binging, purging, abusing laxatives, restricting, over exercising, abusing appetite suppressant drugs, on all sorts of crash diets just to be skinny. And now here I am, at my heaviest and fattest in my 23 years of my life despite eating right and exercising right but yet gaining more weight. I guess my body just isn’t responding anymore. Right at this moment, even though I yearn for a relationship with another, I dare not think of it at all. Because I don’t think I deserve to love another when I can’t even love myself. I don’t think I would have the capacity to do so. And all I would bring is pain and hurt to the other person instead. I can’t ever love myself for who I am. Call it self-pity or whatever, say how pathetic I am. But yes, you are right, those self-righteous bastards are right. I am pathetic. I am wallowing in my own self-pity. But no one, not you, especially, those who have had it all in their lives, will ever understand this pain I’m going through. This pain that swallows you whole, eats you from the inside and consumes you until you can’t find your way out no longer because you’ve just sunk so deep into this lie that it becomes the one and only truth. It becomes part of your being, it becomes part of you. Living in this hell hole, in this secret life where nobody but my family sees it. I continue to hurt myself which hurts them in return and I can’t seem to stop, there doesn’t seem to be an end to it. I think what really scared me was when I was given anti-depressants and mood boosters to help me and also being sent for an ECG scan for the heart and to do a load of blood test to see the damage that I have inflicted on myself internally. I walked into the ECG lab with a room full of old, wheezing people on wheelchairs waiting for their turn and I felt eyes follow me as I placed my documents in the waiting line. I could almost hear their thoughts so loudly, “what is such a young lady doing here testing her heart?” “Such a pity, at such a young age.” Even as I laid on that testing bed, with the stickers and the cords hanging out from my body and chest, I thought of my death. I thought of my funeral. I thought of a friend’s eulogy of me. Fear gripped me and I felt suffocated on that bed. The nurse told me not to move and I felt stifled. It scared me- the thought that I might die young if I continue on with this. And how, friends would come to my funeral saying, “oh, I didn’t know she struggled with this.” It sounded almost pathetic in my ears, to be dying from an eating disorder. But I don’t think I want to die that way. I still have so many things that I want to do on this earth. Then again, there’s this yearning to go to heaven so I don’t have to struggle in this horrible body and battle daily with my mind psychologically. Can you imagine how tiring it is to battle your mind everyday? I can be at home the whole day doing nothing much but just internally fighting with my psychology that I feel extremely exhausted by the end of the day and it comes to the point that you feel like it’s just really tiring to just live and breathe. Every waking moment becomes a painful reminder of the daily battles that you have to face. Can you imagine living a life like that? Can you imagine living a life like mine? It’s tiring to even be awake. Sometimes I just wish I can shut down my brain and not think, not be able to process thoughts. Because once my brain starts working, the battle begins. I’m so exhausted. I’ve thought of suicide so many times, but I just haven’t had the courage to really kill myself. I know it may sound ridiculous to you, like why will she want to kill herself over such a small matter- but that’s because you don’t understand how painful it is to be me. You don’t understand how much it hurts to be living. I don’t know how to carry on, I don’t know how much more I can hold up. I feel like such a burden to my parents, the medical bills are so heavy and I’m unemployed right now and not even able to sustain myself. I hate that I have to rely on my parents despite being of a legal adult age. Sometimes I just think maybe if I died, there would be one less burden for my parents, one less eye sore. Since my father hates me so much too and thinks I’m always not mature enough and so incapable and so useless, then yes, maybe my death would make them happier. I’m really tired of living. I’m really so tired. It’s just one fine line between my fear of death and how much more I am able to take, that is preventing me from suicide. Though thank goodness that my fear of death triumphs over how much more I am willing to take.
I hope this first step will be my baby steps to recovery. It’s really sad to be living this way and I don’t want to live this way anymore. I want to be liberated from it. Because such a life living is worse than dying. I would rather die than continue to live this way. I want to come out triumphant from this whole thing so that I can share with others how I overcame this. I hope I come out stronger. So God, where are you in all this? I can’t feel you near at all. I can’t hear you, I can’t, I just can’t. Will I ever recover from this at all? Will I ever come to have my own family and children and learn to bring my own daughters up to love their bodies and love their whole being?