My story of cutting and eating disorders.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
My personal story of my struggle with eating disorders and cutting, also bullying and emotional abuse.

Submitted: August 01, 2012

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Submitted: August 01, 2012




"Blood and Bones", you wonder. Doesn't make since to you. It does to me. The blood. I see it too much. My own blood. I am covered in scars. Self inflicted ones. Knives, scissors, razors, anything I could get my hands on. 

"The cat did it"

"I fell"

"I'm just clumsy"

Bones. Bones, bones, bones. My goal is to see my bones.

"Just eat something Liz, anything at all" 

"Are you anorexic or something why don't you eat" 

"I want you to eat, please"

Anorexia and bulimia are one of the things that let me have no control. The voice in my head "maybe if you were a bit thinner, fatass"

The voice in my head tells me I'm fat. I'm 94 pounds, and still trying to lose.

People tell me to eat, but nobody is there to help me. Nobody understands. I can't "just eat"  It's not that simple. It never will be that simple. I have no control over myself, I am an empty shell. I am nothing, worthless you could say. The feeling of my bones. Bones are beautiful and pure. Fat is disgusting. It's just a burden. It's hideous. I don't want it.


I was 11 when I became a victim of "blood and bones" as I call it. 5th grade, basically a baby. I was bullied.

I didn't know why everyone hated me so much, I was quite. I didn't speak much. I made straight A's, I was acadimic team captian. I had plenty of "friends". I didn't know.

I was frustrated after being humiliated in every way possible. I went home and found a knife, I cut it so deep in my skin. Blood oozed and gushed. It hurt so bad, but I had never felt better. It made me calm. I touched the blood, I even tasted it. I loved every little thing about it. I thought it was amazing.

Everytime I felt awful, I took out my favorite knife. I sliced my own skin. But everytime I did it, the good feeling went away more and more. I had to do it so deep and so often to feel normal again. I was addicted to self harm.

The bullying didn't stop. I didn't know why I was so sensitive at the time.

Later on I knew.... Bipolar disorder, Narcisstic Personality disorder, Chronic depression, ADHD... any mental illness they could think of they labeled me with it.

After a while, I still didn't understand why I was being bullied.

"Am I just ugly?"
"Am I fat?

The second that thought went through my head, everything about my life changed. I cut my meals down smaller and smaller, until I ate nothing at all. By this time I was in middle school, 12 years old.

I wasn't eating. When I did eat, I purged. I would binge once a week and purge. I felt so pure and free, no burdens. Nothing holding me down.

The scales dropped.

"103, 102, 101, 100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 91, 90, 89, 88, 87, 86, 85.

That's when people started to notice. 85 pounds. 85 pounds of depression and disaster. 

"Have you been eating?"

I lied. I lied to them all. I didn't want to open up. The same voice telling me to starve told me that they would take her away and I'd be fat again.

I opened up to a few people, this was July 2011. During my first year of bandcamp. 

They noticed I didn't ever get food when we walked to get it. 

"Eat something, you'll be sick after 8 hours in the sun if you don't" 

I told them I'd be fine. They worried about me. 

When a girl named Krysten confronted me, that was the first time I'd ever had to talk about it. 

She told me she knows what's going on, she knows I haven't been eating. She told me she noticed my hair was thinning, my skin was purple tinted, my fingernails were almost completely gone, my knuckles were raw from making myself puke. I was a mess. But, I was skinny. All I cared about. All I could possibly care about. Krysten made me eat, she didn't just tell me I "should" eat. She knew I wouldn't order food in a restruant, so she brought me things and sat me down in private and made me eat. At first it made me sick, because my stomach wasn't quite used to eating everyday. I took the smallest bites, little by little. I chewed each bite for much longer than I should have. She watched to make sure I ate it all and not hid it. She was the only person that cared.

After a while, I started to open to more people. Kelsey mostly, I love her so much. She helps me through everything and I try to do the same for her, even know she's going through the same as me. (I'll talk about that some other time possibly)

I started to recover, very little by little. I was still cutting, even worse then before.

Now, we're are in the current point in time. I'm 13.5 years old, it's August 1st 2012. You may think I'm quite young, and probably expected me to be older. But I'm not, I've been through hell and back through my few years. I'm not recovered very much, but I'm trying. I really am. I want to be better, and that's what counts the most.

"Bones and blood", you wondered. Now you know, and it all makes since.

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