Loss

This piece by Mercy Survivor Britt shares about her starvation and suicide journey from post-Mercy Ministries low point and beyond.  This piece was originally published on her personal blog and can be viewed at Nineteen Blue Dots.

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I’m pretty sure most people who have seen pictures of me or knew me six years ago would have a few ideas of what I did to my body during those times.

The reason I’m writing about it today is basically because over the last week it’s really hit me that I think I’ve moved on. Well, I hope I’ve moved on.

Brief run down…when I left Mercy I was extremely suicidal. I was stressed and under a lot of pressure to do well. I started to lose weight. I left the program at 72ish kg and dropped down to 36kg. The loss from 72 to 55 was accidental. I ate all the time but I seemed to be slipping.

From 55 to 36 was deliberate. I wanted to die and this was the only way that I thought I could succeed by not straight out killing myself in a matter of minutes. I could tell people I was just sick and they would believe it, not knowing I was purposefully trying to make my body shut down on its own. It gave me time to put things in place for when I did eventually “leave” and it certainly gave me a sense of control over what was left of my life.

During this time I never starved myself. I always ate and I never brought it back up. I only knew how to eat just enough to keep my body awake that day but also was mindful of how to burn it and then some.

I have a few pictures on my phone that I keep there to remember the past. For years I used them as inspiration. They were goal photos if I put on a little bit of weight and had to lose it again.

I’ve always looked at those photos with a sense of longing to be that person again. Up until tonight.

Now it’s changed. I flicked on my phone and for some reason went straight to one photo of me at my smallest. For the first time I honestly screwed my face up. I was disgusted at what I saw. Not because I thought I was big (as that’s how I saw myself then) but because I looked like death. My bones were protruding, my face sunken and yellow and skin stretched over nothing. I looked like the junkies I see in the street and feel sorry for. There was no life in my eyes. I was not beautiful.

I walked into the bathroom to the same mirror I took the picture in and stared at myself. My face is not sunken. My bones are not sticking out and I have muscles where muscles should be.

I am becoming a woman. My hips are getting bigger, my face is filling out and I have boobs! ;P

I know that even two months ago when I saw these changes taking place I would literally scream and cry for hours. I hated what I saw. I only wanted to be that stick in the mirror again. But my head knew I couldn’t.

Thankfully my head has won and finally I can stand up and say I think I have beat it.

I know this is a personal battle that one has to work on daily by herself but I really couldn’t have done it without a certain person behind me. They have used honesty not force and said things in a way that even if they didn’t sink in right then and there they have left a nagging feeling in my sub conscious mind which has enabled me to move forward slowly but surely.

Who knows, I could wake up tomorrow morning and hate my reflection again. But for now I want to bask in the glory of my new found chest and love this feeling of freedom.

Written By Brittany