So, it's been ages since I've written anything/uploaded. I feel like a need to just write something, get an issue off my chest. Whether you want to read this or not is entirely up to you. I'm not even expecting anyone to click on this, let alone take the time to read it.

Over the last year I've had a bumpy ride, and now I'm at a point where I'm struggling to face an eating disorder that I let take over my life. Anorexia.
Originally I never thought that I would fall victim to such a frustrating psychological issue. A mere couple of years ago I was just over 13st which, for someone of my height, was concidered overweight. My displeasure at being fat, coupled with wanting to be male, made me unhappy in my own body. I was also miserable at the work and felt like I'd never get anywhere, I felt trapped with no option to make my life better. All I wanted was to look male and get on with finding a new job. Eventually I got referred to a gender identity service that, at the time of being referred to, had a three year waiting list.
At this point I was still 13st+.
After a while I became more frustrated at my own appearance. I was unhappy with my looks, and also becoming more and more irritated at work. I was being paid little to nothing and had to put up with conditions that made me wish I had never aggreed to taking a full-time placement there. Cold, filthy, no water to wash your hands, no toilet and working with people who bearly knew English, making any communication an uphill struggle. And I worked long hours six days a week, including both Saturday and Sunday, without bank holidays or even days like Christmas off.
Nothing made me happy. I'd go to work, come home and then stay home.
At some point I decided to try and lose some weight. I was told that being a healthy weight would make me feel better, and I did during the moments I was a healthy weight. Every time I stepped onto the scales I'd feel a sense of accomplishment when I had lost some weight. It was the only thing I got this from.
It started slowly and innocently, all I wanted to do was lose some weight. But soon my goal became an obsession, and it took over my life without me noticing. It was only after I got diagnosed with Anorexia that I finally, and reluctantly, saw that my relationship with food had become an unhealthy obsession that was now ruling my life.
All I thought about was food. I'd skip meals. I'd strive to eat less and see my weight go down.
My manager had me go to my doctor, and then I was referd to a psychologist who assessed me. And on that day I was told that I have Anorexia. I didn't want to believe it. But slowly they opened my eyes to the truth. I was staving my body, I had become so skinny you could (and still can) see my ribs. At bearly over 7st I have become dangerously underweight, but despite the obvious I'm still reluctant to gain any weight.
I look at myself and see fat. I want the scales to read less and less each time I check.
Calories and the constant guilt I feel from eating anything I deem 'taboo' makes me mad.
I've stopped enjoying food all together. It has made me believe that I should only eat the smallest calorie intake I can find, and it makes me feel like I've over indulged if I eat even a single taboo food.
I used to enjoy so many foods. But I can't even bring myself to eat a mere mouthful of foods like cake or lasagna.
I feel hopeless. Pathetic.
How did I let myself get to this?
I can't stop myself from constantly checking calories, or avoiding even slightly indulgent foods.

I'm going to therapy for it. But now I feel like I will never gain control.
I'm still afraid of being fat. Of going back to how I was. It's like a voice that tells me I've done well, that I've kept control. But at the the same time I know that this voice, these thoughts, they're not helping me. They're hurting me, and driving my insane with the fear that I'll suddenly start gaining weight with a single treat.

One night I broke down and completely lost my mind. I couldn't handle it. In response to me throwing something my Mother came into the room. 'How dare you.' She said, and at that moment I believed she would hit me. I buried my head into my bed and moped. She told me to get up, forced me. All I said was, 'I'm pathetic.' And I believed it. She held me, and told me that 'No, you are not pathetic.' And that I was lost and just needed to find myself.
I'm glad she's so understanding.

I know now that I'll never really 'recover' from this eating disorder, it's voice will always be there. And I'm terrified of that. The thought that I'll constantly have these disgusting thoughts telling me to stop enjoying food.
I haven't even started to fight against it. It feels hopeless. But, I'm sick of having it there, it's made me depressed and made me quit my job (though that has helped in the long run since I was miserable there and the conditions were appalling).

I'm actually crying a little. Sometimes I just need to let it out though.
And if anyone did read it, thank you. It's not really something I would put on my Facebook page, but somehow just knowing that it's somewhere others can see it is enough.