Welcome to my side of the fence. . .

Welcome to my side of the fence. . . Here you will
enjoy some good laughs, maybe some frustrations,
and hopefully (if I'm a good enough writer), a few tears.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

On my way.

So, Tricare told us at one o'clock yesterday that they will not pay up front for travel; we have to pay first and then they reimburse us. So we packed our bags and are currently stuck in traffic at exit 3, heading into Oregon. When I say we, I mean the whole family. We're dropping the kids off at Great G'ma's in Armona. Then Scott will escort me to death row. Just kidding, I guess.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Still waiting.

Tricare has me by the throat. And all I can do is let them and pray they let go.
Now the earliest I'm leaving is Wednesday. But I'm sure they'll find another loophole to stop me from going. I feel like giving up.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Moving forward.

First, (again) I want to update you on Scott's health. They've doubled his med dose and that seems to be working. He got a second opinion from his squadron doc and he said to be weary of a surgical fix because it could cause more problems down the road. Scott knows his squadron doc well and trusts him, so he's heeding his advice.

For me, I will be leaving sometime this next week for Rosemead, CA. It was supposed to be Monday, but once again, insurance is well. . .I'll keep it PG on this one. They are an unattached, non-caring system. We've been told Tuesday, but we'll believe it when we see it. We're pushing for Scott to go with as a medical aid because I might get cold feet and jump out of the airplane. Ha ha. I am so scared to walk through their doors alone. I have no idea what's on the other side. I need a hand to hold. I hope Tricare approves it.

So I'll be gone 45-60 days-ish. Depends on how fast I get fat. They have yoga classes. Kinda curious about that.
I'm totally feeling sorry for myself because I'm missing my favorite time of year in this beautiful state. I'll miss Nina's first play at Black Hills. I'll be alone on one of my favorite "holidays"--Halloween. And I'll be alone on my birthday. I will barely make it home in time for Thanksgiving. Whoa as me.
I still fret about Scott and being a single parent. His work will be sympathetic for maybe two weeks and then who knows.
I do think that my absence from the house will be a bit of relief for Scott and the kids. I don't say that to feel sorry for myself, but out of sincerity that they need to recuperate and rest from what I've put them through. On their side of the fence they can know that mom's gone to get help and that I'm in the hands of people who know what they're doing, whereas, the kids and Scott don't know what to do with me and have been at a loss. Now they can release that tension and heal.
I think Nina is gonna eat this up and play the role of Heinrich Queen Bee. Dominic will take it the hardest. He's my boy and can't go a day without hugs from his momma. I'm going to miss both my kids. When your with your kids 24-7 you tend to focus on the parts of them that need to be refined. But when ur seperated, you think about all what's good in your children. And how much you love them.
Being seperated from Scott is a no-brainer. I'll cry for my children, but sob for my husband. He completes me and not being near him is like living without my right arm. I cant talk about it anymore. It makes me cry now.
So, we'll see what this week has in store for the Heinrich's. It's a time of change. Intervention. Healing. And setting things right.

God's will be done.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Hope? Is it You?

Well, it been several emotional days.

September 13th:
I'd like to start off with Scott and his health. The 12th, he had a scope put down his throat and into his tummy. For several months, he's had bad acid reflux that causes him to not eat or throw up. It's become a daily problem and the medications he's taking for it are not helping. They did biopsies to make sure nothing's cancerous, but that seemed of no concern to the doc. He's confident that is not the issue. What is, he saw. So the findings were that Scott has problems in his esophagus and stomach valves that cause bile to come up all the way to his throat, inflaming the lining of stomach, esophagus, and throat. He also has a hiatus hernia and a single gastric polyp was removed (a small bump, I think). A hiatus hernia is when a little bit of your stomach is poking up into your esophagus. I called it an esophagus hemorrhoid, lol. Next week we find out what the next step will be. Obviously, meds aren't helping and the doc suggested a surgical alternative to tighten up the valves so they close and open as they should.
Now let me tell you about Scott coming out of anesthesia. LOL, oh my gosh. As soon as I figure out how to download the video off my phone and onto my computer you will see it. I also had the pleasure of calling one of his troops so he could hear Scott's babblings. Scotty was very adamant about ice cream sandwiches and was a bit emotional about getting his hands on one. It was hilarious. Oh, and he wanted to invent something along the lines of a "rubble bubble bunny head" of which he did not know what you do with it, but it had lucky feet. LOL I got video of that, too.

September 15th:
Insurance has us on a rollercoaster. One day, I'm approved for partial inpatient care, then I'm not. Then they want a physical. Then they want this or that. I was supposed to start the partial inpatient tomorrow. It's a no go. I can't even get to my doc appt until Wednesday, the 17th. Our ultimate goal is to get me into a full time inpatient facility. If Tricare is giving us crap for partial inpatient, I'm not optimistic about being in a facility. What it comes down to is Tricare does not want to pay money for long term care. It's all about the almighty dollar. Good things have come out of us pushing and fighting back. We have found an advocate in Scott's squadron, a caseworker and she has performed miracles in the system. She did get me approved today for partial in patient, pending my physical. She knows the back doors of the system and has connections with others who have connections. They know how to finagle their way through the sea of paperwork and have been nonstop at helping me. I am so thankful.

September 17th:
Holy cow. We finally found a facility that accepts Tricare! It's not through the Emily Program, although I will come back to them for preventive relapse care. According to Tricare, the Emily Program is too new and not accredited so therefore unsuitable. But they approved the partial inpatient care? I did a phone consultation with a facility called Reasons. It's in Rosemead, California, just barely outside of L.A. I think you start with inpatient on a residential-like hospital wing to stabilize me physically and start stuffing my face (not really). I think that after a couple weeks, they move you to a residential house in Pasadena. At least that's the impression I got. We get a call tomorrow to find out what they suggest for plan of attack and when.
I went to my physical today and he cleared me. I weigh 115 fully clothed. It was the first time I saw my weight in over two weeks. The doc was quick to inform me that this is the first time he's ever heard or seen a bariatric patient turn anorexic (made me feel good--not). He also said I'll never be cured, I'll fight this the rest of my life (double yay). He said he's really curious to the outcome of my situation and to come back and fill him in. He said it like I was a lab rat experiment. I wanted to punch the living shit outta his face. I will not be back. I am finding another doctor. I will not stand to be called a failure before I even had a shot at trying. Asshole. He is also the same doc that told me the first time I ever saw him that I will more than likely die due to being bipolar and will probably commit suicide. Because he's worked in ER's for years and year's, he saw it all the time, therefore he judged me as such. I should've dropped him then. Now I'm the dumbass.

In general, over the last several days:
I've cried, I've hoped, I've felt stripped of hope, I'm scared, frustrated, angry. I'm thankful though for the strangers who have been fighting for me. Through them, Scott, and the Emily Program, we have found a way so that other military dependents can now have a better shot at getting approved. Networking has been established mostly because of Scott. He directly hooked up all these strangers fighting for the cause and now they know each other and what each can do to help the next person. Scott single-handedly opened the floodgates. Praise God, there's gonna be other women who won't be tortured by Tricare. We're onto them! This is EXACTLY what I want my experience to do: to change other's lives. And in a small instance, it has. So, that gives me hope.
My Emily Program therapist has strongly pushed Scott to remove the elliptical out of the house. I threw a fit. The fact that I ride it for 100 minutes every day and don't consume more than 700 calories a day is apparently a bad thing. She told me that my body is getting it's energy now from my muscles and at this point I've lost 20% of my muscle mass, to include my heart, being that it's a muscle. She said this is why anorexics die of heart attacks. This has been my first eye-opener. I don't want to have a heart attack in front of my kids. She said she understands my need to exercise, but not to do it more than an hour and at a walking pace. My heart rate can't go above 130. B-O-R-I-N-G. But I've complied. Unfortunately, I've "compensated" by eating even less.

September 18th, 4:30a.m.:
I can't sleep. I've been up since 3. I'm anxious to what/where the next week will hold. Will I be in CA? I am going to miss my family, my goats, my home comforts. My lifestyle (besides the anorexia, of course). How will Scott manage? It's always been me playing the single parent and it's hard. It's juggling schedules, prioritizing, asking for help when pride doesn't get in the way. I have so much I want to do to help prepare, but I may not have enough time to line it all up. We do have a plan for Nina. She's in an out of district school, but they are willing to work with us; Scott has arranged a bus stop in the morning, so on his way to work he can drop her off and jump back on the freeway and not be too late for work. Afterschool, she will take another bus and she'll be dropped off a short walk to the city library and she'll do homework until Scott picks her up. The library is like her second home, so it's right up her alley (my kid loves books so much that she's reading a biography on Abraham Lincoln for fun). Scott will still have to juggle D's soccer practice and Saturday games. And laundry. And meals. And keeping D on track with homework. And grocery shopping. And. . . there's just so much. I have it lined up that a friend of mine is gonna help out with housework once a week or so. And my goats are being boarded with another friend. They were headed that way anyways to be bred and she said they can stay as long as I need them to. I think that will help Scott and I know that my babies will get lovin's and attention. The only thing I haven't done yet is arrange a meal train of some sort. I have a few people in mind that I am gonna swallow my pride and ask them to provide a meal so Scott doesn't have to worry about it all the time.
I don't know. I feel so guilty. It should never gotten this bad. I don't know how it got to this point. It just happened. I am so afraid to be 275 pounds again. I have it set in my mind that the farther my weight numbers get away from the number 275, the better chance I'll have at never being there again.

Please, the few of you that read this. . . be there for Scott. Call him, text him. Invite him over. If my kids are friends with your kids, we can do sleepovers. "Play dates". Going to the movies. Any social time. Scott's cell number is (360) 972-9323. Be there for him. No one has had his back this entire time. All the focus has been on me. Pray for him for strength (emotional fifteen year olds and fighting children is hard when you're dealing with EVERYTHING) and his health. Please be his friend.

Thanks, guys.

"Be bold and diligent. And God be with you as you do your best." ~ 2 Chronicles 19:11

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Moving forward.

Today was a productive day; I finished Ayla's baby shower invites (a second time since I changed the date) and tackled a mountain of laundry. I also rode my elliptical for 100 minutes. I ate so-so. I ate less calories than I burned. Probably not mybest move.
My mental state is eh. I'm feeling down. I think about food all day but don't eat it. Scott took my scale away and it's left me vulnerable. I'm focusing on Ayla's baby shower cause it keeps me thinking and creative.
My first appointment with the Emily Program is this Thursday. It is for three and a half hours. There's psych tests, therapist talk, initial planning. I am scared to death to walk through their doors. It will help that Scott's going with me.

Monday, September 8, 2014


I was so excited about my triumph yesterday that I thought I would do something big and be okay with it. I had this frame of mind that I'm cured.
And I ate a chocolate covered donut. I enjoyed about half, felt guilty the other half, just like my pumpkin spice latte, but I powered through, thinking that this was part of the mind game. I finished and two minutes later felt sick to my stomach. What did I just do? What was I thinking??? Did I not take into account how many calories that was??????? I wanted to undo the whole thing and I was really upset. I knew what I was going to do, but I had to take Nina to school first.
I took Nina to school got home and well, I threw up the donut. I'm not gonna say how because I don't want to teach anyone how to throw up. But it was effective. I don't think I'm ever gonna want to have a donut again. Not just from the pukage package, but from the mental experience. I was horrified at what I did. And scared that all the calories didn't get out of me when I threw it up, so I let my tummy settle down and then got on my elliptical and rode it for 100 minutes. Yes, an hour and forty minutes. I think I had some sort of internal meltdown today. And I've eaten the bare minimum today, still counting the calories of the donut in my overall day, just in case my body absorbed them. I know. I've gone insane.
So today wasn't the best day. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I'm feeling a bit defeated. Like the extreme opposite of yesterday. I'm really depressed about it, actually.

There is a positive happening today, tho. After some serious arm twisting through various channels of "the system", Tricare approved me for the Emily Program. Now we are waiting on a call from them.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

A small milestone.

I want to kudos me today. I usually eat less than 500 calories a day and run or ride my elliptical for over an hour. Today, I ate 1025 calories and rode my elliptical for only forty minutes. I actually had a latte. It was hard drinking the entire thing because of guilt but I felt like I needed to finish it to make a point to myself. I needed to try and teach myself that it's okay to enjoy in moderation and like it. Without the guilt. Without feeling like I'm gonna throw up or wish I could make myself throw up.
I spent the day out of my comfort zone. It was a mind game all day. I was emotional with anger and guilt. I felt like I should be punished for the calories I was consumimg. I felt fat and like I could feel fat growing on my body. And I was angry for allowing myself to enjoy the first half of that pumpkin spice latte.
I just don't want to be 275 pounds again. I don't want to enjoy the things that got me there--bad meds and food. I'm exhausted from the mental game I played today.
I want to thank Scotty for coaching me through each meal. For reminding me to use my DBT skills (skills u learn to cope with life as a bipolar. . . It can be applied to any person, mental health issue or not) and just encouraging me.
And the Feed Rachael fb page helped because I showed what I ate and received encouraging words.
I don't know what tomorrow holds. But today was a victory.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

In the Hospital.

Yesterday, I was getting ready to climb on the elliptical to do my 70 minutes of riding, but I had been feeling pain under my rib since the day before and it felt like it was getting worse. It was a painful throb and sometimes stabbing. And it hurt to touch. Plus, I felt so tired and weak, but then again, I do get up at 5:30.
So I called Scott and he made me call an ambulance because I don't know why. They brought me to Centralia Providence and they ran some tests. Results were very interesting. One, I have a small case of pancreatitis. Two, for as little as I eat (and sometimes not at all) and as much as I exercise, my labs were fine. For anorexics, you're typically low on potassium and I think magnesium. I was one point low on potassium and sodium. I asked the doctor if the pancreatitis was related to anorexia and he said no. After some googling and book research from my therapist, she says yes. They also brought in a dietician for me to see this morning and she said yes. I googled it too and many sources say yes. I don't know what to think, but when we were trying to get the doctor to help us with a referral to go the Emily Program, he asked if we wanted to diagnose the anorexia with a stomach scope. I thought he was joking. I told him, anorexia doesn't give results in physical tests, but the diagnosis is through mental health. He replies with, "Yeah, yeah, I knew that." Dumbass. It took calling my therapist and  having her slowly explain things to him to get the picture. Doctors are fixers of broken bodies. They know shit when it comes to mental health and the way the mind thinks. They aren't trained to fix that. So I guess I can't blame the poor guy; he was just trying to help.
I wasn't looking forward to the dietician and told the doctor I didn't need to see one. I didn't want someone coming in, explaining the food pyramid to me and lecturing me that I need to eat more. Well, he sent her anyways. Her name is Missy and she did everything but lecture me and break out the food groups. She just talked to me that were I'm at in this stage of anorexia is normal, but to continue will have it's consequences.
**Side note** The doc just came in and told me that in this hospital there have been 14 cases of pancreatitis that were a result of anorexia. So that answers that. He said that at this point I am not severe enough to be considered as a candidate for in patient care. He said I would not be accepted, so the only option I have is the Emily Program. And so far, our insurance is denying it, so we are getting our Congressman involved (they have a special person that deals with healthcare provider's who aren't providing the healthcare) AND we talked to the Emily Program again and found out that there are other Tricare beneficiaries having the same issues so a lawsuit has been opened and we are now on that list of suing Tricare. We'll see what happens. Scott is on some sort of war path. I think he loves me.
Back on Missy. She was very passionate about encouraging me to do the program. I told her I was willing to do it for my family because they are concerned. She said until I want to do it for me, it's gonna be a struggle. I am hoping that by going to the program and seeing and hearing other cases, it will click in my mind that it's for me to change me and I have to do it because I want to help not just those I love, but I want to help me. I really liked Missy. She was encouraging and not judging.
Overall, my perception is that my anorexia is not that bad and at this point there are no real concerns. My bmi is in normal range, my labs are good, and I'm not in a worst case scenario. I am capable of getting up in the morning, taking care of daily life, and living on 500 calories a day and exercising for 70 minutes a day isn't gonna kill me. So what's the big problem?

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Do u wanna?

Okay, so my sister started an invite only page on fb called Feed Rachael. She invites certain people to show a pic or describe what they eat at each meal, or even post a recipe. I love the idea because it just might make me hungry, which is the challenge for me; I'm not even hungry anymore. So, if ur interested, u can friend her and she will invite you. Her regular fb posts that you'll get aren't an overkill of mindless junk. She is a business owner for a massage company, so she posts specials, and she has a horse, and she's pregnant. That's pretty much her fb content. Just so you know you won't be overloaded with crap posts. She's a great person. Anyhow, her name is Ayla Tidwell. I'll give her a heads up that she might receive friend requests. It's up to you if you want to participate. I won't judge ya if you pass on this.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Life's cocktails.

"Life is unpredictable, often challenging us with new possibilities and change."
I found an envelope that had been slipped into my tablet and that's what it says on the front of the card. Scott always knows when I need words of encouragement. He says them all the time. But I'm not always hearing them. It's hard to listen or absorb optimism or hope. It's not because I'm being stubborn or selfish. I WANT to believe what he says. I want to feel that the words are truths. I want to be permeated with it. But it doesn't stick to me. I have glimpses and fractions of a moment where I think I might get what he's saying, but soon as I reach out to grasp it, it's like touching a little cloud in front of me and my fingers go right through it. And that's discouraging. But ironically enough, there must be hope in me somewhere because the next time I have that opportunity to grasp it again, I try again.
The last few days have been almost emotionally strong days. Towards bedtime, I get a little anxious and down. So I pop an ambien and the rest of my med cocktail in my mouth and go to bed.
For the bipolar and anxiety, I take effexor, clonazepam, lamotrigine, and geodone. The most important pills are the lamotrigine. It's a mood stabilizer. So is geodone. It plays second fiddle to the first. Effexor is anti-depressant and anxiety. And clonazepam is purely anxiety. Ambien is a sleep aid.
If I didn't have a family, I wouldn't take pills. But because I love my family and am trying to the best of my ability to take care of myself because they love me, I take meds. When ur off the meds, the manic is such a high. I feel like I can do anything. Except fly. Pretty sure I can't fly. I have such great ideas and I create awesome projects and art. I don't sleep because I'm so into whatever I'm doing. I can write anything (I've been published during times like this). I want to be out in the world and be with friends and laugh. I throw parties at home. I'm like a whirlwind of happiness. I thank God for my wonderful life and go to bible studies (and even lead them). But then the crash comes. And I start wondering if I should test that theory on flying. I can't get out of bed. I don't answer the phone. I don't eat, shower, or change my clothes. I write, but it's dark and dangerous. I create art, but it reflects my misery and desperation. I sit for hours, lost in another world and I don't even remember what I was thinking about. I want it all to go away. I hate feeling that way. I ask God to kill me. I want to kill myself. So then battle begins: death or survival.

But that's not today. With meds I'm a little bit more stable. Still have some off days. I'd say I'm boring now. I don't really socialize too much cause I have routines now that I've etched into my mundane brain. Because it's safe. I have to plan everything. I'm NOT a spur of the moment kinda girl, unless I'm having an off day. My craftiness is normal level. The passion isn't as pronounced as it is when I'm unmedicated. My writing. . . It's just writing. I would say it's normal, too.
I miss the intensity of not being medicated on my manic days. Scott says I was the life of a party back in those days. Now I'm just a body at the party. I don't like normal. It's not how God created me.
But on the flipside, I have responsibilities. I got married and had kids. And they love me. It would be selfish of me to not medicate myself. I owe it to them. It's doing the right thing.

Today is a day of trying to get myself to eat. I ate breakfast--an actual bowl of cereal. That's a big deal, but now I feel that I have to burn those calories and ride my elliptical for more than an hour. So the struggle today will be the elliptical time. If I can stop myself from riding it too long, then my next struggle will be to still eat. I'll want to eat less to compensate for eating breakfast. And so the rollercoaster begins. . .

Tuesday, September 2, 2014


I want to clarify why I'm writing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because it's real. It's not just about me. It's about the twenty plus million of people who suffer the same thing. And I want to be a voice that gets heard. I want to fellowship with others who suffer. I don't know where my fate ends (do I die at age 99 in my sleep, or do I swallow two bottles of tylenol when I'm forty-five) but it is my goal to enlighten and educate the ignorant along my journey. I have been really hard on those who have looked the other way. Well, frankly, it hurts to be ignored. And I know you're not really ignoring me, you just don't know what to say. I get it. But it's been laid on my heart to speak up. And at this point, I know who gets me, who's trying to understand, and who are going to continue to pretend life is happy, happy, happy and pretend people like me don't exist. Okay then, you do that. I guess what I'm saying is I am not seeking support, I got my tiny group. And I am secure in my faith of where I stand in my Father's eyes. He knows my heart and He gets the whole picture. But if you want to crawl inside the head of a person who deals with mental health issues, for whatever reason you chose, then read on.

Keeping it real.

Well, Scotty found out a few days ago that I have been throwing away the food he makes me (try to eat). Then he was standing over me. And then I got an attitude and didn't eat anything at all. So he eased up a bit and we've discovered that I have a better possibility of eating when I'm not forced. Who'da thought? Duh.

He won't let me exercise either. But the four day weekend is over and soon as I post
this, I'm popping in a movie and riding my elliptical. Exercising is like a drug to me. When I don't do it, I have withdrawals. I'm moodier and eat even less because I didn't burn calories to get to eat. If that makes sense. Plus, in my head, I argue the whole serotonin thing. I'm happier when I exercise.

It's too early in the day to have heard from our insurance about a referral for the Emily Program. I hope I get it. There's a couple of things that run through my mind about the program. One, as I am, being anorexic, it's like watching an out of body experience. I see the bad choices I am making, I wish I could not make the bad choices, but I am just watching it happen and unfold in front of me. People are telling me, just stop it. Just eat more food. It's something you can control. But I can't. I get physically sick when I eat more than four bites of food. I will ride my elliptical for an hour and a half if I think I ate too much the day before AND not eat all that day. It's become a way of life. It has roots in me.

Second, this program scares me because I want to do it for my family so that I can get better and stop scaring the shit out of them. But it's gonna be an up hill battle until I get to the point that I want to do it for me. I am hoping that being with other people in my shoes and actually listening to what the program has to say, I will discover that I am worthy and willing to help me for me.

The word 'worthy' catches my attention. Because it's been used so often by so many people telling me I am worth something, I am worthy of happiness, and I am worthy to God. Worthy is having value or deserving. And on the spiritual side of things, I'm really not feeling it. I am so angry at God right now. I am supposed to be in His hand, Him holding and protecting me, yet instead, He's allowed me one more obstacle to conquer in life. As if I didn't have enough. Thank you God. {sarcasm}

I told a friend the other day, I am now a anorexic bipolar with PTSD and DID (disassociative identity disorder). Sounds like a title to put under my name on a business card. She made me laugh though; she said that sounds like just about every woman out there. It does have the vibe of PMS, huh?

This morning, I had to drive Nina to her school orientation (I can't believe I am a mom to a sophomore). On the drive home I was having the realization about doing the program for the family, but not for me and all of a sudden I felt so worn out and tired. I just all of a sudden didn't want to do this anymore. And then I thought about, what if I just kept my foot on the gas pedal and ran my car into the next tree? Then I felt at peace about making a decision like that. And I was wondering out of sheer curiosity if reflexes would take over and I would slam on the brakes. And I contemplated it for a few miles. Fortunately, I got my wits about me and got a grip. I'm fine now and don't want to kill myself. It was just a weird few miles.

Like I said, me writing this is gonna be from a real person, thinking real thoughts as I journey down this twisted road.

Monday, September 1, 2014


I'm so angry and feeling vulnerable. I tell my friends and family that I have a life-threatening serious problem. I reached out, not for attention, but for allies in my war and from time to time a wingman in my battles. But instead, I feel like the car accident on I-5 that everybody, for miles and miles, stops to rubberneck the fatality, shakes their heads and keeps on driving.

I have forty friends on FB. Twenty-three views on my blog. Four people have talked to me since.

I'm angry because people I call friends continue to live in ignorance. There is so much hurt and pain in this world and you even know someone experiencing a suffering and you hide behind your computers and busy lives and not address it. I'm not saying focus on me, give me your daily attention, but damn people, to have 23 views on a post and four responses? You are selfish enough to watch the train wreck, but not person enough to help the wounded. And I'm pissed. It's not about me anymore.

24 million of all ages and genders suffer from anorexia in the United States and anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Fifty percent of anorexic's meet the criteria for depression. Twenty percent of people from anorexia will prematurely die from complications related to their eating disorder, including suicide and heart problems. http://www.anad.org/get-information/about-eating-disorders/eating-disorders-statistics/

I am going to lay out my experience like an open book. Maybe someone will learn from this. Maybe most of you will just "enjoy the movie". I don't care anymore who wants to be a bystander. It's obvious: it's my war. I apologize for inconveniencing you.