This is my best friend.
At the moment she’s being kept alive by tubes and needles because her eating disorder is currently stronger than she is.
Does she weigh 90lbs?
No, she doesn’t.
Does it look like her eating disorder is “less severe” because she’s not “that thin”? Do you think her situation sounds “less severe” because she’s not “that thin”?
Tubes and needles.
Pain, anger, agony.
Hunger, thirst, suffering.
Dizziness, constipation, freezing cold. Passing out in front of other patients and staff.
Painful injections of vitamins and whatnot.
Nurses who’re force feeding her, who’re forcing fluids into her body because her eating disorder is currently stronger than she is.
90lbs or not, without treatment - my best friend will die.
Would you have walked past her on the street and thought she even had an eating disorder at all? Probably not, because people keep believing you can measure or estimate a persons physical and mental health state based on the silhouette of someone’s body.
Never underestimate someone’s eating disorder just because they don’t look “that thin” to you.
Being “thin” is just one of MANY symptoms of an eating disorder and it’s far, far from the most important one. Anyone can struggle and if someone you know struggles: don’t assume they’re alright just because they don’t look “that thin”.
Eating disorders come in one size; MISERABLE.
You’ve been asking me how she’s doing so she wrote this and told me to share it.
(20th of February 2014)
"First of all, I’d like to thank you so much for your support and kind words, it means more to me than you think.
I still have the feeding tube and if I told you I was alright, I’d be lying. I’m not alright and I hate this beyond words. The tube. The feed. The fluids. My body. Myself. Everything.
I hate the world.
I’m getting a minimum of calories per day and I refuse to let them increase my intake, I can’t handle it.
I don’t understand how I’m ever supposed to win this battle.”
(These are her words, I’ve only translated it)
(10th of March 2014)
"I don’t know how to describe anything anymore. I’ve lost all control and I barely know which day it is. I don’t know what to answer when people ask me how I’m doing.
Do they expect me to say I’m better? “I’m doing so much better now” ? Because I’m not doing better at all and I’m not fine. My body isn’t as close to dying as it was a few weeks ago (my organs were failing) but things can take a turn for the worse very quickly.
It’s been 54 days since I was brought here, against my will. I don’t want to be here and they’re holding me against my will. I’ve lost all control. Nothing is up to me anymore.
At the moment I’ve got my seventh or eight feeding tube (I’ve lost count) because I keep pulling them out in frustration and panic. If I pull it out again they say I’ll be restrained. If I refuse more feeds, I’ll be restrained. Legally - they can and they will if I don’t cooperate. I’m so screwed.
Other than food and my eating disorder, haha, I don’t even know what to say. I went from being checked on every 20 minutes, straight back to constant supervision. They say they’re worried. Worried about what I might do to myself. They keep saying they can’t let me die. But they don’t know how to help me anymore, everything they’ve tried so far has only made matters worse.
I’ve given up. I have no hope left.
So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for disappointing those of you who’ve been hoping I’d be doing better by now. “Fine” is the last thing I am. (I’m sorry)”