Don’t tell a bulimic person that they need to alter their weight because they already think that.
Don’t tell a bulimic person that they look better with the weight off. It’ll make them want to vomit even more.
Don’t tell a bulimic person that people who starve or purge to be skinny are weak. Chances are they already believe that.
Don’t tell a bulimic person to eat, there’s a reason why they’re hesitant.
Don’t tell a bulimic person to try to not vomit it out. Its not like they can stop it. Its a disorder not a bad habit.
Don’t tell a bulimic person that they don’t look bulimic. Because a person with an eating disorder can vary in sizes.
Don’t tell a bulimic person that they are not trying hard enough. Their sore throat and the burning sensation in their esophagus can prove otherwise.
Don’t tell a bulimic person that they’re not enough, because they already think that.
Don’t ridicule a person with an eating disorder and say “I’ve never really cared about my weight”. Because they don’t vomit out they food to lose weight, they do it because they feel in control.
Don’t pity a bulimic person. They don’t need that. They need support. They need you to understand that you don’t know how it feels unless you’ve had the disorder yourself. That they can’t just get better. Or try harder. Its hard enough as it is.
Sweetheart, your body is a forest. It can be damaged but will always manage to survive the harshest conditions. Your scars may not be beautiful to you. But they are a part of you. They may be from self-harm cuts to eczema. So be it. Your love handles are not appealing to you. But you still are capable to be amazing with them. And your friends may make fun of your small chest (or large ones). But here’s the thing, your body is special. It keeps going. It loves you so much that it works day and night to keep you alive. Isn’t it time to love it back? Wear short dresses even if you have scars on your legs. Because the world is not your audience. You are. The people that matter loves you and sees you more than your scars. And maybe you feel like your body is bigger than the rest and it makes you ugly. No. That’s not true. I’ve went through enough of my eating disorder to tell you, that as long as you keep yourself healthy, your body’s size shouldn’t be worried about. You are stunning to the people that matter. Please don’t hate your body. Because darling, you are more than the flaws. You are fabulous.
I have never fallen in love before. Sure I’ve had crushes. But I’ve never felt a strong feeling for someone and have them feel like that for me as well. But I know it is a beautiful experience. To love someone with all your heart and have the same love be returned. But in the past you couldn’t love just anyone. Heterosexuality was always the preferred sexual orientation. Countless movies and shows are based on heterosexual love. Until finally the LGBTQIA community started taking a stand. It was a big moment when the US legalized same sex marriage. Because love should be celebrated no matter what form. It shouldn’t be mocked. It shouldn’t be thought as an exploit for Satan. It should be respected and viewed as beautiful. Now its time for other countries to legalize this. Its time for society to not view non heterosexual people as other beings or aliens. But as actual human beings. Not higher nor lower. Sexual orientation shouldn’t matter anymore. Because every orientation should be respected properly.
Once you’ve been through hell, you realize one thing; the world isn’t as cruel as you think it is. I always thought, “I don’t have it bad, more people have it worse”. Until I was hooked up on a bunch of wires, and underwent a bunch of tests, until the doctors told me I could have died, until my dad watched over me all night to make sure I didn’t kill myself I invalidated my emotions and myself. But no I did go through hell. I’m not going to be all, “it does get better, I promise”. Because I don’t know if it does. It hasn’t for me, and I don’t know if it ever will. One thing is for sure, the more you go through the more your perspective widens up. As bad as it sounds, I didn’t need a friend to hold my hand to make sure I was okay. I got through the night by myself and my own willpower. I watched my dad as he looked around the room trying not to meet my eye, or the blood that was being transfused within me and I realised one thing. I didn’t need him to tell me he loved me, because at that moment all my hatred for him left me. He loved me as his daughter, even though I was pale and not able to talk or get up. I also realised something else. That I felt like crap. I couldn’t describe how crappy I felt. That this feeling of loneliness was subsiding within me. I realised I don’t need someone to pick up my pieces while I break down anymore, I can do it myself. I don’t need someone to constantly tell me they love me, because if they’re still with me then they love me. I don’t need a bunch of people telling me I’ll be okay, because chances are I won’t be and I don’t want to believe in false hope anymore. I’m not better than anyone, because everyone is going through their own hells. But one day you’ll realise that this life needs to be lived. Don’t survive anymore, don’t care about other people’s expectations, don’t think you’re not strong enough. You’re human and that’s all you have to be. At the end of the day, the only person listening to your demons is you, the only person knowing exactly what you’re thinking is you, so why hate yourself? This world may seem cruel, but don’t use it as an excuse to give up. Breathe and carry on.
One day you’ll realize that your worth is more than what you imagine it to be. That you are not simply rain, but a hurricane. You are chaos. You are human. You are like a forest, full of flaws but yet you contain the most beautiful contents within you. You don’t deserve someone that changes you but more like they change with you. You are not a sidewalk for anyone to walk all over. You are like fire, bringing havoc to every life you touch. Hard to handle but a necessity. You are not a flower as much as you are a tree. No matter how much you are cut down, your roots are still intact. One day you’ll realize your worth is so much more and that day you’ll smile and laugh at the fact that a few moments ago you hated yourself.
Before I begin, I’d like to warn you that this is a post for feminists. A feminist is a person that believes in the ideology of gender equality. A sexist is a person who finds one type of gender better than the other. A person who claims to be a feminist but bashes on men and makes woman sound like damsels in distress are still considered sexists. So before you decide that, we don’t need feminists anymore I’d like to notify you about something. In some places within Africa, women have to go through a procedure where their clitoris is stapled back. So when they have sex, they don’t feel pleasure. In Sweden a fourteen year old girl was raped by a man around the age of forty. He was let off because the judge reasoned that the victim looked well developed and over 18. But the fact that the man raped someone wasn’t even in context. In America, most woman are afraid to be out at night time. They fear it. In Canada, woman are likely to get a shorter time in prison for the same crime a man committed. The only way to fix this is to realize that we need feminism. That we need to understand the definition of feminism and work together in making every human being no matter what gender they are equal to each other. We need to stop wasting time on hating on feminists that aren’t actually feminists. We need to stop hating on gender equality. I’m sick of guys having to make the first move. Its not fair to them. I’m sick of girls having to wear a pair of shorts that are “long enough” yet when they go to stores, they can’t find a ‘proper’ pair of shorts. I’m disgusted by the tumblr blog named “women against feminism”. Because we are human beings and its time to bring a change. Its time to believe that equality is good. Even if it means change.
And then it came crashing down. I started talking about my problems instead of hiding them. I started trusting people. I started showing people how I felt. And I hate it. I spend every night regretting it. Regretting the fact I’m depending on others. I couldn’t save myself from an eating disorder. I just let it get worse. And a part of me doesn’t want to be saved. Because I want to be pretty like those girls at school. I want to fit in my best friend’s clothes without trying. I’m not enough. Nothing about me is enough. When the doctor says I lack nutrients in my body and there is nothing for my organs to work with. I don’t care about it. I don’t care that my throat is sore from all the throwing up. I just don’t care. Because everyone keeps saying I look better with the weight I’m losing. That I should keep doing what I’m doing. And I’m not doing it enough. I can’t feel happy when I’m eating anything other then a bunch of small carrots. I don’t feel satisfied until I throw up. I don’t feel anything when the doctor says, I’m close to bring admitted in a hospital. Everything in life is a whirlwind. I don’t know how much more longer I can save people, because what’s the point of saving others if I can’t save myself?