"I have been battling an eating disorder for years. I am currently more on the "recovery" side with some relapses as opposed to where I was.. which was completely consumed by the monster in my head. I had to enter a treatment program as a partial patient (meaning I went home at night and on weekends) to try and get physically and mentally healthier back in August. At that point my intake was fatally low and my life was nothing but isolation, intoxication to forget myself, and torment. I was a patient for a week before I left the program. By the end of September I was just "tired". Tired of fighting an anorexic mindset, tired of keeping up the facade of "I’m recovered and okay because you all expect me to be since I was in a program", tired of feeling stuck in life in every way and like nothing would ever get better. I remember quite clearly waking up on a Wednesday morning and getting in the shower to get ready for work as usual, but this time after I got out I put pj’s back on and thought "I am just too TIRED. I just can’t do this anymore." So I wrote my note, grabbed a couple bottles of my prescription muscle relaxers, and found a razor blade and within half an hour was unconscious in my bed.
I apologize for how long my story is. But there is no short and easy way to say it all. I just hope if anyone reads this they can see that you can make it through and that there is life beyond the dark and cloudy days in your mind.