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Stress Induced Anorexia

July 2020. 19 months since the rapes.

I couldn’t get out of bed.

I called in sick to work.

I was crying hysterically making that phone call,

Because that’s not me – I’m stronger than that.

Or so I thought.

But I lost myself.

I lost my strength.

I reverted from the lioness I had become

Back to the human I was ashamed of being.

But worse.

I couldn’t eat.

If I tried, I’d get sick no doubt.

I lived in my bedroom and bathroom for days.

I was a zombie at work,

Sauntering through a field of fog.

Just like the walking dead.

I didn’t want to die by any means,

But I was at rock bottom.

Completely alone.

I had no one.

Who was the common denominator

Of why I was feeling the way I felt?


What had I done?

What did I do?

I was left in an awful, dark, lonely, cold, haunted hell hole

With no one to give a damn about me anymore. (Really.)

I lost all sense of worth,

Except for the days I had my little boy.

I was a good mom for him, always.

And I needed him in those days

More than he will ever know.

I lost 10 lbs. in 7 days.

There were days all I could eat was a serving of cottage cheese,

Forcing it down,

And undoubtedly getting sick.

As my clothes grew bigger,

My waist grew smaller.

I drank Zzzquil so I wouldn’t have to think before bed,

But rather just sleep. Sleep away the hurt. Sleep away the loneliness.

But what did people see?

“You look great!”

But how did I feel?

In fact,

When I was asked, I had to admit:

“I am not ok.”

Because I truly, truly was not.

And it scared me,

So I wanted people to know…

And I gradually picked myself back up

As the foggy days passed by.

I searched for the light, I had to,

To survive... again.

I had to think: I lost it all,

But what can I do… for myself?

Make new friends.

Be healthy. Be happy.

And now I have intentionally lost another 8 lbs. – 18 lbs. lost in total.

I embraced it.

And am focusing on the things that make me feel better:

Writing and running.

And my lion cub.

But who knew that stress induced anorexia was an actual thing?

Being so physically ill from stress… Do you believe it?

Doesn’t matter.

It surprised the hell out of me.

But I had to realize I had to do things for myself to put me in a better place with a better mindset,

Or I wasn’t going to be able to pick myself up at all.

I went through the process of escaping from one of the darkest places I had ever been,

Like a lioness would, ey?

I don’t want to talk about what happened in July/August of this super awesome year we’re all having, 2020. You don’t need to know. It was a combination of things. Has my threshold for tolerance for people and pain completely diminished? Who knows. But I lost my main three support people at this time. I’d never felt so alone. But now I just have to move on with the scars that are formed from it. I have bigger scars from November of 2018, and now I live in the aftermath. The scars are building up my thicker skin, I suppose...

Also… I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt this way. I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt so stressed out and hurt and broken that you’ve been physically ill. I know some of you have, just like me. The sun still shines behind the clouds; it’ll come out for you again soon. Be the lioness that you are. And if it takes a few days before you can do that, know that I'm here for you - and I'd recommend running and reading and writing and snuggling with your kiddos and pets. Or... "Pretty Woman" and chocolate drizzled popcorn. =)

I just have to add: I feel like I do a lot of bitching. Sorry if you feel that way too. But then I remember… I write because writing reduces stress, helps me process, remember, and be creative. I guess this blog is like a journal, and who journals about sunshine and rainbows every day, anyway!? Not someone with a black soul I guess.

It'll be okay.

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