#in the last year of college i was the healthiest ive ever been and i couldnt believe how good it felt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warmdrpepper · 4 years

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looking back on this year and man, it had to be the worst of my life. its been nonstop since last december. i lost dallas, i moved, my grandma was in and our of the ER weekly, i got close to a new group only to have that fall apart, moved again, and a hundred other small things that piled together to make this year the the fucking pits. and, for the first time since i can remember, i fully lost hope in me ever having a good and happy future. which is an awful fucking feeling.

like. i havent told anyone this but there for a while, i was having these vivid dreams where dallas was still alive. and they felt so lifelike that i thought they were real when i woke up. and that Fucked Me Up. still does. and with those friends, granted i didnt get the Worst of that situation, it did Fuck Me Up to get really close to a group, only to find out the Truth and watch it all crumble away. in the span of like 6 months!

as for losing hope, i cant genuinely tell you right now if ive gotten that hope back. anytime i think about my future i get so anxious and existential that ive opted to just Not think about it. not the healthiest option, i know, but i dont think putting myself into a panic attack thinking about college is the healthy either.

last year i ended my look back on a positive note, hoping 2019 would be kind. it wasnt. but that doesnt mean 2020 wont be. i may not fully believe ill have a happy future but im not gonna take that option away from myself. life changes in an instant and no one knows what could happen. 2020 may be a year of blessings, it could be even worse, i dont know. but i wouldnt be me if i didnt at least try to see something bright.

so, heres to hoping that this time next year i can have a happy look back

#robin.pdf #emotional vulnerability? on MY blog?#i dont want like pity messages or anything

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souryogurt64 · 7 years

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hey sarah ive been in highschool for two (2) days and i literally already want to fucking kill myself so do u have any advice on how im gonna survive 4 years of this bc its been two days and its felt like a month.... my life is literally already a mess too i dont have any friends (no one really wants to talk to me this year) and everything else is just A Lot idk do u have any good advice ??? im like so close to just stabbing myself in the chest like im so stressed i hate it i hate it i hate it!!

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tbalovely · 5 years

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I guess I’ll tell my story

This has some pretty triggering stuff in it I guess? This is more for my own reflection than anything else, so you don’t have to read it if you don’t absolutely want to.

When I was in High school I suffered with intense binging and purging issues. I couldn’t go a meal without excusing myself either at the end or halfway through to go straight to the bathroom and puke everything up. It was an endless cycle and I still couldn’t ever get to my gw at the time. When I was 17 I was 5 feet tall and I weighed 118 lbs, but, I also naturally had double d breasts. Every time I’d look at my BMI I’d feel sick because I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I had a great body, in hindsight, but at the time I felt like a disgusting whale. And my massive tits didn’t help. I never had a boyfriend and every boy I came into contact with showed no interest in me at all. Every boy. So I would keep going back to the mirror. I was too fat. I was too wide. My breasts were too big. I was disgusting. Finally I met someone online. He said that he liked my size and that if anything I could gain a few lbs. He said he loved me for me and he acted like he was crazy about me. Eventually I moved 900 miles to live with him. He said he’d marry me, but we both lived with our parents so it seemed really inappropriate, so we decided to hold off until we could get a place of our own. I stopped purging. I stopped starving myself. But I never stopped binging. He wasn’t the healthiest person, either. In fact, his BMI classified him as obese, so it goes without saying that his diet wasn’t in the slightest healthy. But I wasn’t concerned about that because I thought that he was making an effort to lose the weight, or at least to try to lose the weight. I loved him for him, just like he said he loved me for me. So I thought we’d be okay. So, of course, I binged like my life depended on it. I ate when I wasn’t hungry. I ate when I’d just eaten. I ate just because other people were eating. I ate my feelings, because for some reason now that I was living with him he didn’t seem to care about me like he had when I was 900 miles away. He didn’t tell me he loved me as often. He didn’t want to have sex anymore. (And this was all when I was still in the range of about 120-130 lbs.) I felt disgusting again. And even more so now because I’d gained a whopping 90 lbs while living with him. Eventually I moved back home so I could go to college, and he seemed fine with it. My highest weight ever in my whole life was 210 lbs. I feel gross even typing that out. When I came home I cut down my binging, but I didn’t stop. I was now binging at night when everyone had gone to sleep. Ice cream, cookies- I’d scatter out potato chips onto a plate and then drizzle syrup or honey over top of them for that salty/sweet taste. However, I eventually got a breast reduction. In 2017 I had a doctor recommendation, and my back pain was too much for me to handle to the point of not being able to get out of bed because of the immense pain. I went from a double g back down to a double d, but my body was still huge and disgusting.They removed 15 lbs of fat from my chest and after the surgery I had no appetite, so I lost 10 lbs from being unable to eat anything other than oatmeal with my pain meds. So, I had dropped to 185 lbs. After the surgery I felt like a hideous creature. My scars hadn’t healed properly, leaving me looking like some kind of Frankenstein freak show. But at least my boyfriend still loved me. At least there was one person that still thought that I was beautiful no matter what. Right? I had encouraged him to start going to a gym or at least try to lose the weight. Make an effort, ya know? He’d been going for a few weeks when he decided that it’d be a good idea to tell me that some girl that was a regular at the gym had “hit” on him and that he thought that she was “more attractive” than me. “In a basic sense, ya know? She’s more attractive than you in a general sense. She’s just very.. I don’t know. She has a good body, I guess. I mean, she goes to the gym so of course she’s going to be hot.” On our anniversary in December 2018, he told me that he didn’t feel right being in a relationship with me. He said that he needed to fix some things about himself and so therefore he needed to not be in a relationship. With me, specifically. He said that he loved me, but that we had problems that he couldn’t look past. We’d been together for 8 years. So I guess you could call this a relapse. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to my original weight again. I’m 26 now and it’s starting to feel like I won’t be able to get the weight off ever again, but I don’t really care. If going back to Ana can do anything at all, then I’m willing to do it. I’m just so sick of feeling disgusting and fat and worthless and unlovable. I’m sick of being lied to in order to spare my feelings. I don’t want to binge ever again. I hate myself more than I ever have in my entire life. All I want is to finish college and be skinny. I’m not asking for the world here. I started eating low cal on 1/3. My last full meal was an order of grilled nuggets from the kids menu at Chik-fil-A. I think that’s about 150 cal. Since then I haven’t eaten over 500 cal at anytime. I’ve been on a water fast since 1/11 and ketosis has kicked in for me (yay!) My last weigh in was this morning and I’ve dropped to 174 lbs. I really don’t care what anyone has to say to me. I’m going to be skinny by Summer if it kills me. I don’t want to look or feel this way ever fucking again.

#aboutme #anorexia #tw #bulimia

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myfoolishopinions · 7 years

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“Health as a Resource”

I'm not the healthiest person imaginable, especially in terms of BMI indices, but look -- there's shit about overexertion on school that one can learn from my story. Health as a resource is an old card game strategy that I picked up from Hearthstone but it applies surprisingly well for real life stuff.

So let's start at the beginning, shall we? Over the course of my academic career, I've gotten dangerously superstitious to a point approaching OCD, I've suffered a panic attack over almost failing out of a class, and there have been tests were my dread was clearly expressed through body language and sweat production. My parents expected good things from me, but not to the extent that I drove myself towards. I convinced myself that I needed to constantly one-up myself to a practically dangerous level.

From what I remember, this business of becoming physically ill or horribly anxious from testing started way early, like back in the second grade or something. I have memories of total panic coming over me with regards to testing, so much so that I'd run to to nurse or to find my grandma who worked at my school kitchen on some days. It was rough; I feel in retrospect that I must've been a hell of a burden in that regard, but it probably got better over time. There were a few panic moments I remember in sixth grade, but nothing too noteworthy. By the time eight grade rolled around, all I really did was play MW2 and waste my life away, so there wasn't much to be done on that front.

Skip to Freshman year, where I failed my first quiz in math in effectively my life, leaving me questioning everything. Did I deserve to be here? Did I want to be in the advanced classes? I did and I drove myself insane to prove it. I pre-planned entire essays before they were to be done on weekly exams. I ensured that I showed up for homework help. My heart fluttered any time I picked up a pen for an assignment; it was tough to stay focused on the present and if I messed up a single thing, I'd be stuck on that failure for weeks. Pop quizzes were met with a sinking feeling of lack of preparedness. I kept my head down and refused to be tutored; I'm still a hard-headed person regarding tutoring -- I feel that if I can't get the answers myself and need to rely on others, something just isn't for me. So I set myself up to punish myself forever.

So what sort of things happened outside of classes? I would stop short of walking to school to distance myself and walk the same way to school every day. I'd skip certain stairs on staircases. I'd sing specific songs to myself in my head the night before for certain tests. I'd intentionally show up to places at particular times. I'd text someone at the same location practically everyday with almost the same message. In multiple places on a defined route. That lasted almost three full years. A lot of that, I'm happy to say, was something that I tried fixing by Senior year and I'm mostly better about that, though I did become way insular about myself as a result.

So college hits. Other than the whole impending doom of needing to find a calling, make money, spent time away from home for long periods, adjust to an entirely new writing style that was fundamentally more complex to me at first, and all, it went alright I suppose. So like only a couple tears. So Freshman year's end, where I got a C in Calc IV didn't bother me all too much. It was a learning experience that I should've gleaned a lesson from.

Cue Sophomore year, my statistical best year and worst for quality of life. It's the dead of Winter in some shitty ass, non-ventilated room with a decent view. I took Stats with Calc, because I like challenging myself, but I was woefully unprepared for the whole situation. There were far too many rings to fly though; I couldn't understand the professor, the homework became incomprehensible, and at that same moment, the first Midterm hits. I'm scrambling to learn, panicking as I realize I haven't the slightest, and turn to the advisory board as a last ditch effort to save my own ass. I got real lucky after two days of being totally distraught, getting probably the closest to self-destructive I've ever been, when they allowed me to transfer into a lower class with a pretty fine professor. I learned a lot and it actually stuck, which was a hell of a lot better.

So yeah, that sort of takes it's toll though. I guess the message here is really when you're an overachiever, don't inflict pain upon yourself even if you're chasing a dream. It's just not worth the health costs, the stress levels, and the mental strain. Feeling normal and talking to friends is way more important than I had ever realized when I tried to quit gaming back in Freshman year in high school. Guilt-tripping yourself only makes things worse and furthers one's fear of failure. I just hope that you don't end up like me and try fixing every one of your problems by yourself. It's worth it to either talk to someone or release one's emotions though a safe funnel. Mental health is important and it's definitely worth talking about. Health as a resource is a strategy that I used to get where I am, no doubt, but sustaining that is horrible and not worth it in the slightest.

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