HOW am I supposed to get dressed for church when EVERYTHING makes me look stupid and awful and fat

How to talk to your eating disorder:

recoveryisbeautiful:

How many Calories have I eaten?: Fuck you Ed
I’m Feeling Fat: Fuck you Ed
What do I Weigh?: Fuck you Ed
is my dress size ok?: Fuck you Ed
Thigh gap?: FUCK YOU ED
Stop eating: Fuck you Ed
Look in the mirror: Fuck you Ed
body image distortion: fuck you Ed
I’m worthless: Fuck you Ed.
Always: FUCK YOU ED.

(Source: anabites)

Thoughts this morning:

tangled-up-in-recovery:

Me: Mmmh what could I have for breakfast?
ED: Sshhh.
Me: What?
ED: You’ve had three bowls of cereals last night before going to bed.
Me: Oh, right …
ED: So you’ve already had your breakfast.
Me: …
ED: And the two next ones.
Me: … you know what?
ED: Mmh?
Me: I’m gonna have three slices of bread, mashed banana & peanut butter, a sliced apple, and a nice cup of hot milk with cinnamon.
ED: This is -
Me: And maybe some cereals, thanks for reminding me about them.
ED: But -
Me: Sssshhhhh. I don’t like you.

(via fragile-euphoria)

the irony

courageisgraceunderpressure:

Every time I see Special K’s “What will you gain when you lose?” tagline, all I can think about is how overwhelmingly paradoxical that idea is. Why is it so commonplace to believe that weight loss holds some key to happiness? Anyone with an eating disorder can tell you that losing weight deprives you of so much life. In turn, you’ll “gain” a built-in calorie counter that will carefully dominate your mind, brittle hair and nails, infertility, constant anxiety, lanugo, organ failure, weak bones, and plenty of other wonderful physical and psychological complications. 

Anyone recovering from an eating disorder can also attest that “gaining” is associated with so much more than weight; it’s about getting your life back. I understand that Special K’s target audience is those that want to diet and is not meant to have any association with eating disorders, but can we just stop spreading these misconceptions? You want change? How about you work on your mind.

I love this post, Ashley. 

(via courageisgraceunderpressure-dea)

100reasonstorecover:

Submitted by: sexyhealthygirl

Wouldn’t that be something!

100reasonstorecover:

Submitted by: sexyhealthygirl

Wouldn’t that be something!

(Source: 100reasonstorecover)

212 notes

I dreamed we took off running, together, from the top of a hill, winding down through trees and along small, pretty mountains, fall foliage all over us. Shorts and long-sleeved shirts, our breath showing. You brought apples and bread you had baked because you wanted to feed me, wanted to take care of me, were worried about me, and we ate together at a look-out point, soft cold grass on our legs and a valley down below us. This morning you said, maybe it was prophetic.

I dreamed we took off running, together, from the top of a hill, winding down through trees and along small, pretty mountains, fall foliage all over us. Shorts and long-sleeved shirts, our breath showing. You brought apples and bread you had baked because you wanted to feed me, wanted to take care of me, were worried about me, and we ate together at a look-out point, soft cold grass on our legs and a valley down below us. This morning you said, maybe it was prophetic.

(via archaiques-deactivated20120704)

Today before my German 310 class, K, who I will not go into right now (really difficult person) asked me if my father was retired. I replied “no, actually, he’s passed away last year, but he worked up until his death.” Then K proceeded not to offer his sympathy and politely switch topics but to continue asking me questions about my father’s death. Not about my father, but about his death. “Was it sudden?” “Had he been ill?” “What kind of illness did he have?” “Was it difficult?”
FUCK. YOU. ASSHOLE. HE HAD BRAIN CANCER FOLLOWED BY HEAD & NECK CANCER, OK? YES, IT WAS DIFFICULT, HOW COULD CARING FOR YOUR FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD THROUGHOUT YOUR ADOLESCENCE NOT BE? I spent my Christmases listening to my dad vomit up the breakfast my mom cooked. I tried to prepare myself for the funeral starting when I was 14 years old. I learned how to dole out meds when I was 8th grade. I had a terrifying adolescence.
This disgusting person doesn’t even deserve to hear about how wonderful my daddy was.
(After this conversation topic was exhausted, he asked me my thoughts on sexual violence, saying that he thought that it was way less of a problem based on the character of Olivia from Law & Order, SVU. I could not make this up. BTW: this person is 50 years old with 5 children, and attending college.)
I’m going to go crawl into bed and cry now. I miss my papa and I want to not be a survivor anymore and I’m tired of whispery anathoughts keeping me from eating what I want and I really hate things right now.
Want: to be again in the photo I posted.

Today before my German 310 class, K, who I will not go into right now (really difficult person) asked me if my father was retired. I replied “no, actually, he’s passed away last year, but he worked up until his death.” Then K proceeded not to offer his sympathy and politely switch topics but to continue asking me questions about my father’s death. Not about my father, but about his death. “Was it sudden?” “Had he been ill?” “What kind of illness did he have?” “Was it difficult?”

FUCK. YOU. ASSHOLE. HE HAD BRAIN CANCER FOLLOWED BY HEAD & NECK CANCER, OK? YES, IT WAS DIFFICULT, HOW COULD CARING FOR YOUR FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD THROUGHOUT YOUR ADOLESCENCE NOT BE? I spent my Christmases listening to my dad vomit up the breakfast my mom cooked. I tried to prepare myself for the funeral starting when I was 14 years old. I learned how to dole out meds when I was 8th grade. I had a terrifying adolescence.

This disgusting person doesn’t even deserve to hear about how wonderful my daddy was.

(After this conversation topic was exhausted, he asked me my thoughts on sexual violence, saying that he thought that it was way less of a problem based on the character of Olivia from Law & Order, SVU. I could not make this up. BTW: this person is 50 years old with 5 children, and attending college.)

I’m going to go crawl into bed and cry now. I miss my papa and I want to not be a survivor anymore and I’m tired of whispery anathoughts keeping me from eating what I want and I really hate things right now.

Want: to be again in the photo I posted.