I’ve been trying not to post about this, partially because talking about my disorder helps to fuel it, and partially out of a disordered hope to not “jinx it”.

Things have been slipping, eating-wise. I was doing well for a long time, so this lapse was surprising. It’s only been 10ish days, but I don’t remember the last time I restricted for that long.

I did lose weight after my breakup due to depression, and it was hard gaining it again. The time between regaining my appetite and returning to normalish eating could be considered a lapse, but it didn’t last long. And even so, that was over 9 months ago. Before then, my lapses had been a couple days at most since Fall 2015.

So whoops.

I don’t remember what started this. I have been trying to eat “healthier” and “more balanced”, so that could have played a role. I’m not uncharacteristically unhappy right now.

This also feels quite different from other lapses. I am usually driven by a desire to lose weight, and I turn things around when the restriction starts to impact my mood. This “turning things around” usually feels somewhat relieving, as it improves my mood and satisfies my hunger. It also ends the constant battle in my head.

But this time, I have been largely driven by anxiety. The thought of eating makes me feel panicked. I feel like Anorexia has already taken me captive, and there’s nothing I can do to change this. I don’t necessarily believe that I can’t be happy with an eating disorder; and the prospect of losing weight, while not my main motivation, seems worth it. I don’t feel like me. I feel like it’s 2014 again, and Anorexia has taken me captive.

While part of me is horrified at this development, part of me is also thrilled. I can see a subtle weight difference already, and it’s intoxicating. The high and the confidence boost of restriction are addicting. I feel like maybe I’m doing things right. Maybe the alternative to this is eating crap all day and being fat and hating myself. Maybe this will make me happy. Maybe this is all I have.

I feel like crap physically (my body has such a low tolerance for this shit now), I’m more anxious/depressed, and it’s hard to study for my calculus final, but YOLO? I don’t know.



My eating disorder is an asshole

Hi everyone,

I wrote a post recently (yesterday?) about my strong thoughts of relapsing into Anorexia. I acted on some behaviours yesterday, and today, my eating disorder won’t shut up. It’s kind of shitty having my brain hurl insults at me all day, and I thought writing about it might help.

So, these are the nuggets of pure wisdom that Anorexia is bestowing upon me on this lovely day:

1.I never actually had an eating disorder, and especially not Anorexia, because I barely lost any weight. None of what I went through matters unless I do it right.

2. I am a dramatic piece of shit for complaining when I literally restricted for one day. People do that all the time. I’m a weak, pathetic whiner. I have been so dramatic about the barely-real eating disorder I had, and I need to either shut up or get a real eating disorder.

3. I am going to get over this in a day or two, as soon as I get hungry, because I am weak and undisciplined. I was never able to lose that much weight, and I never will be, because I can’t do anything right.

4. If I relapse now, maybe I can actually be skinny and see what that’s like. Then it will be out of my system.

5. If I relapse, people will care about me and like me.

So, this was fun. My brain is a super fun, exciting place to be. That’s really all I wanted to say, because I am a dramatic whiner.

Hope everyone is well!


Oh haaaaay Anorexia

TRIGGER WARNING: This post is being written by my eating disorder.

Things have been a lot lately. I still feel depressed and lonely more than three months after my breakup. I’m writing finals this week and next. Finances are very tight, as I am reaching the end of the student loan money I received in September. And I am dreading the hours I will have to spend with my family on and after Christmas Day. Maybe this is why I have been feeling particularly nostalgic about my eating disorder lately.

I don’t feel fat- no more so than usual anyways. I’m not feeling anxious about eating a normal amount with decent variety. Recovery is not difficult right now.

But I keep thinking about the high I got from losing weight. The way I actually liked myself for a little while. I think about watching my body change and feeling my clothes get looser. I miss the routine and the obsession and the perfection. I even miss that god-awful Day Hospital program, where healthcare professionals cared about me for a second because my pain became visible.

I know rationally that I was miserable when I was in the throes of my disorder, and that I would hate myself if I gave up on recovery. But the desire to lose weight is so strong. I can feel Anorexia taking over my brain, and I don’t even mind. This might go away in a day or two, or I might let it continue.

Today, for the first time in a while, I tried solving a problem by restricting. My roommate bailed on our plans today, and I felt incredibly angry and anxious at the sudden change. I wanted some way to let my anger out, and my stomach was in knots anyway, so I threw out the bagel I was making for dinner and had a bowl of vegetables instead. I’m having a hard time studying now, but I feel powerful.

I don’t know what to write as a conclusion. Obviously, my thoughts are incredibly disordered right now, and they’ll probably go back to normal soon, but I wanted to express them. So, there they are.


How Far We’ve Come

The past few days have been rough; but ironically, it is during my lapses that I begin to truly appreciate how far I have come in my recovery. The life I am living now is one I could not have imagined just one year ago, and I now hardly remember the deep, dark hole where I used to spend every moment of every day.

When I think about the hell I lived in for much of the past year, I feel sickened. I cannot believe it was me who experienced that, and I have no idea where I found the strength needed to claw my way back towards life. This all might sound incredibly melodramatic, but I cannot overstate how absolutely awful I felt every single day for so long.

During this past year in recovery, I have eaten meals while wiping away tears, while gripping my utensils with trembling hands. I have eaten meals while my mind screamed at me over every single bite. I have eaten meals while feeling completely lost and alone, with no hope in the world for the future.

But through all that pain and suffering, I somehow managed to get here. I was able to move away from my parents’ house to a better living environment. I was able to return to school and see my friends again. I was able to socialize and meet new people. I was able to start dating an incredibly sweet, beautiful girl.

I still have bad days. But with each passing week, the bad days become fewer and farther between. I sometimes go an entire day without thinking about food. I have allowed somebody to see me naked. My life isn’t perfect, but it is good. Sometimes, I feel truly happy.

I could wrap this up with a moral about things getting better, and recovery not being a straight line, but that isn’t the purpose of this post. I just want to put everything in perspective, and to appreciate how far I have come in the past year.

December 8th will mark exactly one year since I began my first stay in the Day Hospital Program, and I plan to write another post to commemorate that milestone. Until then, I hope everybody is doing alright.





Same Old News

Hey everybody,

So, my eating began to deteriorate after my birthday. For two weeks, I was allowing myself to slip back into my disorder.

I was in crisis Friday night, after missing classes due to exhaustion and anticipating calling in sick for work the next day. I decided, once again, to get back on track.

I have now been on my meal plan for three days, and it sucks. But I can actually get my schoolwork done, and I will probably be able to work by next weekend, so there’s that.

I recognize how repetitive this pattern is getting. I work towards recovery for a couple weeks, I get off track for a couple weeks, and so on, and so on, and so on. I am fucking exhausted by it.

I can’t promise that this won’t happen again, but I hope to god that it doesn’t, at least not for a while.

I hope everybody is keeping well. I will post again when I have something new and interesting to say.


Update, and my Sad Dream

Hey guys,

I know that I haven’t been posting as much lately; I have been pretty busy with school and work. Both of those things are going really well, though.

Unfortunately, my eating has not been going well. This makes me not want to post, because anything I write would probably either by dishonest or triggering. It is quite possible, however, that things will turn around again soon, so there’s that.

That is about all that is happening in my life right now. Before I wrap this post up, I wanted to talk about a really sad dream I had last night.

I was somehow able to go back in time and talk to my three-year-old self. She was smiling and playing, as three-year-olds do. I went right up to her and said, “You have no idea that you’re going to develop Anorexia.” Of course she didn’t know what that word meant, so she just smiled at me and continued playing. I don’t remember feeling much of anything while having this dream, but thinking about it today, I am realizing how profoundly sad it was.

There was no moral to that story; I guess I just wanted to spread the misery around a little bit.

Anyways, I hope everybody is doing well.


In Semi-Crisis

I’ve been neglecting this blog lately; I apologize.

I’ve mainly been sharing my thoughts on my YouTube channel, Sarah Hill. That will probably change soon, as I recently moved into a student house with thin walls, and 4 of my 5 housemates are unaware of my eating disorder.

Anyways, the reason I am posting here now is that I am freaking out.

I have been working so hard to get my eating back on track, but this past Monday, I weighed in at my highest weight in over a year. I could not cope with the fear that my weight would continue to increase, so I began restricting again.

I have work today for 5.5 hours. And on Saturday for 6 hours. And on Sunday for 6 hours. And I am anxious. And I’m depressed. And I am so, so tired.

Also, my birthday is in 9 days and my parents are proposing lunches and dinners and cake, and I don’t have the heart to tell them that I’m struggling again.

I wish I could go home and hide under the covers and write off this entire day, but I have to pay rent, do that isn’t an option. So I’m venting here.

I hate writing conclusions. So this is where I’m going to end this post. I’m sorry this isn’t very cheerful or optimistic.