As part of MQ’s Speak your Mind campaign, readers describe the issues they’ve faced brought on by eating disorders, their therapy and recovery as well as the strains NHS cuts are placing on services in this field
The first time I was depressed, I was 12 and I didn’t know I was ill. I didn’t even know what depression was. After a family feud and several years of being a victim of bullying, I didn’t want to live any more. I remember standing on my balcony, hands on the railing, and thinking: “Should I jump?” I thought that I was a coward, because I was afraid of dying more than I hated living. I began to self-harm, and my mental illness had the sting of a pair of scissors cutting into my skin.
I was 16 when I decided to lose weight, so the boys and the girls wouldn’t laugh any more, and perhaps, just perhaps, someone, one day, would even desire to touch me. Three years later, I was sitting on the toilet bleeding because I had taken too many laxatives, and my mental illness was as red as blood.