Anonymous

Being a human is hard. Being a human with an eating disorder is inexplicably hard. Every time I think I have control over the situation, my eating disorder pulls a fast one on me and reminds me what is really in charge — food and exercise.

This article first appeared on Mamamia and has been republished with perm

If you go, I’ll have to pick up all the dog poop. I will have to take out the trash. I will have to sleep alone.

I love the concept of the divine yoni: of the beautiful and powerful nature of femininity, of being a creator and life-giver, and of vaginas being

Like too many others out there, we have a father who gave us some of his genes and not a whole lot more. Specifically, my father is an alcoholic — has been for the entirety of his adult life.

Seven years before I was born, my mother made a decision that would change her life—and lead to mine.

I wasn’t thankful. I was too negative. I wasn’t doing enough. When I found out my mood swings weren't my fault, that I had bipolar disorder, I cried.

This article originally appeared on Mamamia

Anorexia is not what you think. Warning: Triggering pictures included.

It’s real sticky-wicked to have your body become unpredictable and tortuously painful. So here I am. Homeless. Meditation is my medication.