back in april this year i was unwillingly placed into outpatient 'recovery'. worst. fucking. decision. ever.
after being assessed in the hospital, i was told that my health was too critical to start therapy before coaxing myself into eating; that i would have to be fattened up straight away before i suffered from serious complications, and changing my mindset would happen after. essentially, the institution decided to place my physical health of higher value than my mental health.
looking back on this now, it absolutely outrages me. i was never in the mindset of 'recovery' in the first place, but if the doctors wanted me to go down the path of healing, why wouldn't they try to build healthy habits surrounding food first?? they took a girl severely deep into her disorder, stuffed her like a prize pig, and expected her to be fine with it??
FORCED RECOVERY NEVER WORKS.
i gained back all the weight i had lost, surpassed my starting weight and seemed to become the fattest i had ever been. sure, i'm in the 'healthy' weight range, bordering on underweight, but the change is so obvious to me that it makes me want to rip the flesh off from my grotesque, chubby body every time i catch my reflection in the mirror.
the way i gained it back wasn't healthy either. i was banned from exercise, meaning any weight i put on was purely fat, no muscle mass at all. that also meant that when i was allowed to exercise again in september, i had severe difficulty doing so due to the long break.
yep - i was able to exercise better when i was 'critically unhealthy' as opposed to now, in a seemingly 'healthy' body.
i've been stuck on a meal plan since i started, which my parents have made me stick to and have punished me for deviating from it. three sickeningly calorific meals every day with three fattening snacks inbetween. i'm being treated like a toddler, except with far less independence.
being thrust straight into 'recovery' also triggered binge cycles. i would gorge on stupidly unreasonable amounts of sweet food, feel miserable about myself, but i would be unable to do anything about it. too terrified to purge, too lonely to stop the bingeing.
my social life flourished whilst i was at my lowest weight, too. now that i resent my body even more than i did back then, i barely go out to see anybody. they say that anorexia is the most isolating of illnesses, but what's even more isolating, i would argue, is being forced into a false 'recovery'. all the thoughts are still there but you're not allowed to express them. all the worst fears you could have possibly imagined before have become true. now that you're 'healthy' you simply cannot feel ungrateful for your current situation, all the work you've put in, all the help you've received.
but why should i feel grateful when it's ruined me?
i've never hated my body more in my life. i genuinely think i would rather die than to have to see my body every day, to feel this useless lump of flesh, bag of fat, to know that i failed myself completely. i don't have anything to live for anymore. by making me 'recover', they took away the only motivator i had left in life. at least when i was losing the weight i had goals and ambitions, but now? i have nothing. just fat. i've sunk into this pit of depression but i think i fell too far down to be able to climb out. i trusted people, i told them how i felt, and this is what they did to me in return.
nobody ever sees it from my perspective.
i think the worst part now is that i won't ever be taken seriously. i don't think i look fat enough to have people understand the extent of the disorder. if i told someone that this was the worst the anorexia had ever been, they would scoff, say that i haven't lost weight in months, so how could that possibly be true. inside, there's nothing left, she's hollow, consumed up completely by the disorder that doesn't want to eat.
i'm so fed up. i want to go back to liking myself. either it happens soon or i die trying