02/08/2025
In the midst of throwing up an upwards of 4000 times from the first time I realized I could just “undo” eating to the last time I’ve relapsed, suicidal ideations became so deeply ingrained in my daily thought patterns, so much so that they never left even years into my recovery. The fact that I’ve had regular anxiety attacks since 4th grade I’m sure also played a role in how prone I’ve been to frequent depressive episodes, and it got to a low point again last summer that I started organizing my life to make it easier for my family after I’d be discovered trying to unalive myself again, this time successfully, and went on antidepressants for the first time in my life. The shame that feeling dependent on a substance to will myself alive made things worse, but over time with the help of my therapist, I’d find ways to come out of the hole and feel better equipped at preventing my brain from sinking into a headspace like that as severely as I did before. I hated that those thoughts felt so contradictory to how grateful I was, logically, and I didn’t understand how I could have such a disconnect from what I knew was a blessed life. While I still struggle to actually feel, believe, and internalize it sometimes, I am aware that the fact.