All around the blogosphere, people have been coming out with their personal stories of going through mental illnesses. I always felt like it was my duty to do the same. If I have an opportunity to help others by sharing my experiences, wouldn’t it be selfish not to? Since I made a full recovery, I feel my story is especially important.

But I was afraid. It’s terrifying to be so vulnerable and personal, especially since there’s such a stigma attached to mental illness. I don’t even talk to my friends about it, so a lot of people don’t know.

After years of going back and forth on this decision, I think it’s finally time to be open about it. My illness is nothing to be ashamed of. Not only do I want to reach out to others who are also suffering, but maybe I won’t feel like I’m guarding a dangerous secret anymore. I think telling my story will be liberating.

Here it goes. (Deep breath.)

Keep reading

Recovery, the word seems so hard to concept especially those in the process. I am the first to admit it was very hard to grasp a hold to. I have battling my eating disorder since the young age of 14 and man was it a long journey. I am now 18 years old in recovery and couldn’t be more blessed to say that. I was very in denial for a long time and thought I could handle this all on my own but truth be told I could not. I needed the tough love I was given to help me get foot in the door with treatment. I think one of the toughest moments for me was admitting I had a problem and that I needed the help, I also needed to understand that this vicious illness was not my fault. It is sad to see anyone go through this, especially yourself. I was in a very dark stage and didn’t know if I could ever make it out. I was beyond scared and hopeless and most importantly was going to give up. If I knew then what I know now is that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and you can make it out. I am still in the learning process of this whole recovery thing and yes there is bad days but there is also good. I would never think i’d see a good day again, I only knew my eating disorder days. Never ever give up on yourself, you are worth it.

My twin sister disappeared in 1982. I was severely abused by both my parents. I was also a gymnast and dancer from age 4 to 14 years old. I am now 37. I am diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Autism Spectrum Disorder, Bipolar, and an eating disorder. I am thankful to a specialized program in my state where I live. The program only has 6 clients and is a program I will be in for the rest of my life. Before entering this program I was in the hospital more than I was out of it. I have currently been out of the hospital for 3 months. I have no family support. I was lucky the 6 years I was in foster care, I was not abused in any placement, but was bounced around a lot. I have lived in many group homes and apartment programs. I live in the Intensive Residential Treatment (IRT) apartments. I have my own apartment with 24hour/ 7day a week in home staffing. This program is not time limited. I have been told I will be in this program for the rest of my life. If I can make it through what I have then there is hope for everyone else. 

Hello,

My name is Kristine, and I was hospitalized for Anorexia at age 16, but my symptoms really started to emerge when I was 13 after I had been in a traumatic car accident while driving with my dad. That horrific moment changed me forever. I began to isolate myself, falling into the trap of an eating disorder in order to cope with the intense feelings that I kept bottled up inside.

Right now I am 20 years old, and over the last 7 years I have been constantly battling my eating disorder. I have been in and out of treatment, but this time is different; now that I am an adult, I have made my own choice to check myself into outpatient recovery on my own, which I have always been forced to do in the past, but now it is my choice. I have finally decided that I have had enough of my eating disorder; now, I am truly passionate about recovery and I am more than ready to take back my life.

Lately, I have been doing very well; my treatment team loves my enthusiasm and all of the effort that I am putting into recovery. As I have gained back my health, I have been able to see things so much clearer; I now realize that there is so much more to life than this eating disorder. I am starting to find myself beyond my eating disorder, and that is definitely worth all of the hard work that I have had to do to get to this point in my recovery. 

Keep reading

This year has been the year I’ve really worked on my recovery and my overall mental health. From a very young age I was depressed, fascinated with death and constantly anxious. I developed major body image issues as a child that turned into an eating disorder. I grew up with a biological father who was an addict, alcoholic, abusive and mentally ill with Bipolar Disorder.

Keep reading

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

By Portia Nelson

I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place,
but it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

To anyone wondering if it’s worth the fight to live ED-free

Keep reading

My older brother was someone I always looked up to and admired. We had a “normal” relationship up until he was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 Disorder after the onset of his first manic episode, at the age of 18 years old. I was 15 years old at the time, and had been battling with an Eating Disorder (on and off) for as long as I could remember, always hating the way I looked. In retrospect I was creating an illness for myself because my family paid more attention to the needs of my brother and rescuing him to safety on a day to day basis. I was angry, sad, lonely, and mostly confused. How could this amazing human being suddenly turn into someone I could barely recognize nor relate to anymore? With little insight in regards to what mental illness is and looks like, I though that 

Keep reading

I am 30 years old and was diagnosed with bulimia over 16 years ago. I come from a family steeped in addiction and have struggled with my own for more than 10 years. I have attended inpatient treatment for my eating disorder and intensive outpatient treatment for my ED & SA. I have made great strides in my recovery (3 years) and as a result experienced positive growth in my personal, educational, and professional lives as well. Yes, I am proud of who I am and what I have achieved (in all aspects of my life), but I still have to take it (life) one day at a time. Each morning I get up and am faced with a decision, “Is today the day that I continue my recovery or let it all go…?” “Am I going to fight for this life in recovery or not?“ 

For awhile I have wanted to write this, but I was too afraid too. I decided to because people around are sharing their stories and I admire them for it because they bring awareness and say to others struggling that they aren’t alone. I hope that mine will do the same, this is my story with mental health.
I have changed both physically and mentally throughout the almost twenty years of my life. I learned to grow and sometimes even laugh at some of the mistakes I have made. I can laugh at a mistake, but also be caught up in it and overthink it. I was an odd kid in middle school, I’ll admit it. After I did something stupid for attention, when I was thirteen, I instantly regretted it. People would talk about me and what I did, but they didn’t know that I really regretted it. I couldn’t control what they were saying about me, but there was something that I could control. That is when my eating disorder and obsession with my weight developed.

Keep reading

And I knew I wasn’t right 

So I planned on going that Friday night 

And I knew I wasn’t okay

Making it the perfect place for me to stay 

See, for most, a mental hospital isn’t a choice 

It’s one of those things where you are left without a voice 

Brought there suddenly against your will

Then before you know it, you are given a bunch of random pills 

But for me, it was where I was supposed to be

Keep reading