reposting because i couldn’t reblog the original post for some reason
originally posted by tumblr user @st4rvinglol
What I wish I knew before I fell into this trap
Heart failure is a very real thing. Organ failure is a very real thing. Brain damage is a very real thing. You cannot avoid these if you are restricting at a dangerously low deficit, I promise you.
You will feel like shit, all the time. Your head will always hurt. You will always feel nauseous. You will always feel weak. You’ll wake up in the morning and the first thing on your mind will be how absolutely exhausted you are, no matter the amount you slept. You’ll lose the ability to focus, or even think at all properly.
You will see people die. If you manage to not WITNESS it, you will hear about it. There are many blogs still up on here whose owner’s have long since passed.
Getting thinner won’t make people like you. Romantically, platonically, in general. People will see you losing so much weight so fast and they will know to stay far away from you, because they don’t want to see you DIE.
Extending from that, you won’t like the attention. Yeah, you’ll get the “You’ve lost so much weight!” all the time. And then what? You lose more, and the comments stop. You’ll get pressured to eat. The only thing people can focus on is your weight, just like you. They’ll stop looking you in the eyes. Everyone around you will know you’re a ticking time bomb, and they won’t be able to stop thinking of how close to death you are. It doesn’t matter what weight you are, you will start dying, and everyone can tell.
You will not be dainty or pretty, and you won’t feel dainty nor pretty. You’ll feel fucking disgusting.
Your life will always be numbers. Calories, pounds, ounces, grams, inches, calories pounds ounces grams inches calories pounds ounces grams inches. You will never be able to forget these numbers.
That ana buddy you want so desperately? That’s just another disordered person who you’re encouraging to kill themselves, whether you acknowledge it or not. Maybe they’ll die. Maybe you’ll die. Maybe you both will.
Yeah, maybe you’re reading all of this and the only thought on your mind is “Well, as long as I’m skinny, right?” Or, “I WANT to die, this doesn’t mean shit.” You don’t want to die like this. You don’t want to live like this. I’ve had my heart stop three times. I’ve had my heart almost stop more times than I can count. Those minutes before you flatline? They don’t feel like the movies. I wasn’t surrounded by family and friends. I wasn’t basking in the glory of my sickness. I was shaking, cold and alone. I was terrified.
You won’t be a success story. You’ll be just be another fucking statistic.
Get the help, please. Don’t devote your life to this. You deserve better than to suffer. Please.