F
Furby
New member
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2010
- Messages
- 2
Hi all,
The issue is in the thread title, really. I guess I should elaborate (it'll be long - skip to the end if you so wish).
I’ve been health conscious since I was very young, aged eleven or twelve. Of course at that age your knowledge is still limited, but I did try very hard and ate well compared with many children of that age. Of course in your teenage years, your will power for that kind of thing is diluted, but I made sure I didn’t eat terribly.
Yet little under a year ago, give or take, I became more aware of nutritional content. I’m naturally thin; my brother and I ate the same diet more or less when I was younger, and where he was a little tubby around the edges, I remained quite small! I stand at 5’4”, and then I was roughly 108lbs. So I had no reason to start counting calories…and yet I did. Slim as I was, I still didn’t like my stomach or legs. Nothing too drastic came of it; reducing my regular calorie intake of around 1700 to 1500 (back then I exercised little, and 2000 just wasn’t needed). I then dropped it further to 1200 in hope of losing my stomach fat more. This went on for a while, until I gradually lost the will power and just ate normally, whilst still being aware of the nutritional value etc.
Fast forward to four months ago, when I hit a really bad place regarding OCD and depression. In all truth, I’m still there. It’s been tough. I’ve lost almost all of my friends (my problems are only partly to blame, in fairness), I lost interest in my hobbies (art and music, mainly), and I lack motivation to see the day through. If I had my way, I’d be in bed all day! I’ve become a victim of ritualistic self half and trichotillomania, neither of which are very fun. To sum up, things aren’t great. I currently see an NLP practitioner and a psychologist, but it’s relatively early days.
Back to the topic, now you know the foundations. As I’m sure many of you have experienced, I’ve lost control; OCD is who I am. Phoebe has been lost. A combination of that, losing friends and seeing the effect it has on my family batters self worth. It’s been four months of thinking how much easier it’d be for everyone else if I wasn’t here. Luckily(?), regardless of how strong the suicidal thoughts get, I’m not brave enough to see them through! Nor would I want to leave my sister (she had a very difficult few years, so now she’s really on the up I couldn’t do that to her).
Now it was probably subconsciously; I cut down on my food again. Down to 1200kcal. I don’t think I was aiming to lose weight at first. I weighed myself for the first time in quite a while, to find I’d dropped to 102/103lbs. Confused? Yes. Pleased? That too. I thought I better keep it up. Down to 1000kcal. Maybe more if I felt like it; it wasn’t too strict. I weighed myself roughly two months later. 96lbs. At first I was a little worried! And then I thought to myself “If I look like this now, how on earth did I look almost a stone heavier?!” My stomach and legs were still an issue. Cut the calories again. 800 a day, that seemed fine. I see no change in my figure. Now, I restrict to between 350-600 calories a day, depending on what I’m doing. And part of me – the part that’s writing this – knows I’m being ridiculous. But this rational me is over powered by the psycho shouting “STOP EATING! YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS!” much like the part of me that knows OCD is irrational. I’m currently 92/93 lbs. If I eat I feel like a traitor to myself; I feel like I’ve put on vast amounts of weight even if all I ate was a slice of bread. I look in the mirror and don’t know what I see…usually, I find fault, where I want the fat to go away. But twice in the last month have I looked in the mirror just before getting in the shower, and I saw what I assume is really there. But seconds later, I look again and the skeletal girl is gone and I’m finding fault again. Every night I go to bed saying “I’ll eat normally tomorrow” and then wake up calculating what to eat to remain within my restricted calorie count.
Ironically I advise (sometimes preach!) friends and family about balanced diets, sugar, fats and calories – I know how one should eat. I love to bake and cook, too. That way I know what I'm eating and make it as healthy as possible. I'm an aspiring pastry chef - all the fun without having to eat all the goods yourself .
When I've got my rational head on, I come back to the comclusion of control. I#ve lost control over every other aspect of my life, and this is my way of regaining it. I'm controlling what I eat, and it's been taken too far. I don't know what to make of this situation. Does anyone have any thoughts?
Thanks,
Phoebe.
The issue is in the thread title, really. I guess I should elaborate (it'll be long - skip to the end if you so wish).
I’ve been health conscious since I was very young, aged eleven or twelve. Of course at that age your knowledge is still limited, but I did try very hard and ate well compared with many children of that age. Of course in your teenage years, your will power for that kind of thing is diluted, but I made sure I didn’t eat terribly.
Yet little under a year ago, give or take, I became more aware of nutritional content. I’m naturally thin; my brother and I ate the same diet more or less when I was younger, and where he was a little tubby around the edges, I remained quite small! I stand at 5’4”, and then I was roughly 108lbs. So I had no reason to start counting calories…and yet I did. Slim as I was, I still didn’t like my stomach or legs. Nothing too drastic came of it; reducing my regular calorie intake of around 1700 to 1500 (back then I exercised little, and 2000 just wasn’t needed). I then dropped it further to 1200 in hope of losing my stomach fat more. This went on for a while, until I gradually lost the will power and just ate normally, whilst still being aware of the nutritional value etc.
Fast forward to four months ago, when I hit a really bad place regarding OCD and depression. In all truth, I’m still there. It’s been tough. I’ve lost almost all of my friends (my problems are only partly to blame, in fairness), I lost interest in my hobbies (art and music, mainly), and I lack motivation to see the day through. If I had my way, I’d be in bed all day! I’ve become a victim of ritualistic self half and trichotillomania, neither of which are very fun. To sum up, things aren’t great. I currently see an NLP practitioner and a psychologist, but it’s relatively early days.
Back to the topic, now you know the foundations. As I’m sure many of you have experienced, I’ve lost control; OCD is who I am. Phoebe has been lost. A combination of that, losing friends and seeing the effect it has on my family batters self worth. It’s been four months of thinking how much easier it’d be for everyone else if I wasn’t here. Luckily(?), regardless of how strong the suicidal thoughts get, I’m not brave enough to see them through! Nor would I want to leave my sister (she had a very difficult few years, so now she’s really on the up I couldn’t do that to her).
Now it was probably subconsciously; I cut down on my food again. Down to 1200kcal. I don’t think I was aiming to lose weight at first. I weighed myself for the first time in quite a while, to find I’d dropped to 102/103lbs. Confused? Yes. Pleased? That too. I thought I better keep it up. Down to 1000kcal. Maybe more if I felt like it; it wasn’t too strict. I weighed myself roughly two months later. 96lbs. At first I was a little worried! And then I thought to myself “If I look like this now, how on earth did I look almost a stone heavier?!” My stomach and legs were still an issue. Cut the calories again. 800 a day, that seemed fine. I see no change in my figure. Now, I restrict to between 350-600 calories a day, depending on what I’m doing. And part of me – the part that’s writing this – knows I’m being ridiculous. But this rational me is over powered by the psycho shouting “STOP EATING! YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS!” much like the part of me that knows OCD is irrational. I’m currently 92/93 lbs. If I eat I feel like a traitor to myself; I feel like I’ve put on vast amounts of weight even if all I ate was a slice of bread. I look in the mirror and don’t know what I see…usually, I find fault, where I want the fat to go away. But twice in the last month have I looked in the mirror just before getting in the shower, and I saw what I assume is really there. But seconds later, I look again and the skeletal girl is gone and I’m finding fault again. Every night I go to bed saying “I’ll eat normally tomorrow” and then wake up calculating what to eat to remain within my restricted calorie count.
Ironically I advise (sometimes preach!) friends and family about balanced diets, sugar, fats and calories – I know how one should eat. I love to bake and cook, too. That way I know what I'm eating and make it as healthy as possible. I'm an aspiring pastry chef - all the fun without having to eat all the goods yourself .
When I've got my rational head on, I come back to the comclusion of control. I#ve lost control over every other aspect of my life, and this is my way of regaining it. I'm controlling what I eat, and it's been taken too far. I don't know what to make of this situation. Does anyone have any thoughts?
Thanks,
Phoebe.
