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So, this post is going to be more rambling than anything, it seems. Lately, I have just felt so overwhelmed that it is hard to come up with any impressive ideas. This is what I like to call the beginning of Emily’s “Hard-Hitting Depression Season.” This entails much more struggles with my thoughts and with my eating disorder.

For the past two weeks, I have been with my boyfriend and his family. While all of them understand that I am full of anxiety, depression and anorexia, they still have trouble knowing the full extent. The full extent that involves so much guilt, shame and lies.

I have had to put myself through so many trials as of late. One of the hardest was eating at a restaurant. Aside from the fact that COVID has made me stressed out about eating in public, my anorexia makes me scared of restaurants because not all of them give me exact ideas on the nutrition values. As much as I hate it, I’m a calorie counter.

Somehow, I did manage to get through it. I found something that seemed healthy and was proud of myself for eating. However, shame quickly came over me because I asked to stay with them a few extra days. I felt like a burden. The thought consumed me until I went home.

I also found myself struggling in other ways, such as with something as mundane as a latte. I got one and really wanted it, but my anorexia made me pour about three-fourths of it down the drain. As soon as I did it, I began to cry. I did not want to throw it away and hated myself for wasting it.

Something people do not realize about anorexia and depression is that it is more than just feeling fat or feeling sad. It is full of self-hatred and guilt. All I, and I am sure many others, feel is guilt because I do things I know are stupid or pathetic. I do things I know I would never do if I was healthy. 

The amount of lies I let myself tell makes me feel like a great actress. Even the people I am realest with I find myself lying to. Even my therapist, who I adore and find helping in many ways, I hold back from. I am afraid of the truth, even though I know the truth is important. 

I am a coward. I am a liar. I am a hypocrite.

I let myself help so many others who are sad. I let them trigger me because I know they need someone. If I tell them I cannot help, the guilt hits me even harder. If I tell them to talk to someone else, I will make them feel like a burden. All of it eats away at me. 

Guilt, to me, is the worst part of mental illness. It is something so difficult to get through because many of the times, it makes no sense to anyone else. The guilt is almost always foolish or unnecessary, but it lingers on. It makes you feel frustrated because you cannot explain why you feel the way you do.

It is a monster, perhaps the boss battle within your consciousness. 

As I stated earlier, this was more of a ramble, but it helped clear my head. This is not one of my most motivational posts, but maybe it will help others know that they are not alone. In fact, maybe it will make me feel less alone. 

No matter what, I just hope you all find something that makes you feel comfort and love.


A double Major in Communications Media and Journalism, passion for radio and for art
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