23, hopeless, and burnt out

[Thewriter23]

To anyone who takes the time to read this, thank you. Any feedback back is greatly appreciated.

For as long as I can remember I have been different. Not in a quirky way, not in a unique way, or even an inherently wrong way. Just different in sort of a sad way. Like a puzzle piece that looks somewhat like the rest of the bunch but just doesn’t fit anywhere. At 5 years old I was the biggest kid in my Pre-K class. Both height and weight, I towered over everyone and was immediately tabbed as ‘the fat kid’. I constantly would throw up in the middle of class from anxiety and had extremely poor attendance as a result. At 7 years old I was put on a diet by a family member. Now I know what you’re thinking, seems logical right? However this was an extremely harsh diet and workout routine. I went from a very sedentary, indulgent lifestyle to working out 7+ times a week and eating extremely limited amounts of very bland food and if I were to venture out at all and eat something normal I was verbally abused, berated, and cussed out. This happened on a regular basis. However, the diet worked and in no time I was that super athletic kid that plays multiple sports and has a ton of friends. I was a basketball star and as my star power grew so to did the requirements placed upon me by that family member. At 8 years old I was practicing basketball and working out for hours and hours every single day. Now these things by themselves aren’t necessarily a problem, maybe a bit excessive but certainly nothing to get too upset about. The problem was that during every session I was absolutely thrashed with insults and cuss words and screaming. Every single time, without fail. This only watered the seeds of the anxiety disorders that I was born with which were waiting to sprout. So from the outside I appeared to be a prodigy with insane work ethic who had a family member that loved him deeply and vastly improved his life. But on the inside, deep in my soul, a storm was brewing.
Fast forward a few years and I’m now in middle school. I’m playing on one of the best travel basketball teams in the nation(we placed #6 to be exact) and I’m playing around 200 games a year all over the nation. We were coached by said family member. Staying in hotels with your friends/teammates every weekend and playing the game you’re supposed to love should be every kids dream right? You’re right, it should have been. But while my friends were running up and down the hotel hallways playing ‘ding dong ditch’ I was in the room being forced to take an ice bath to recover my legs so that I’d be fresh for the game the next day. While my friends were care free standing in line getting ready to go play at the arcade between games I was standing there holding back tears because 30 seconds ago I got cussed out for my outfit choice.(What’s wrong with plaid shorts anyways lol) I was in a constant state of distress and sadness. I looked at my friends with great envy. They got to live so carefree it seemed. Joking, talking freely, ordering whatever food they wanted at the restaurants we’d go to, and worst of all, receiving the approval of that family member. “Why can’t you just be more like(insert name)?” I heard that on several occasions and it broke my heart. Naturally, I began to regress socially and became very much a loner. On top of that the diet that I’d been on had turned sour. Every single day I would sneak into my kitchen and grab loads of food, stuff it into my pockets and run back to the bedroom. On multiple occasions there were even stacks of dirty dishes hidden under my bed because I was too scared to take them to the kitchen. I became obsessed with getting my food and locking the door and simply sitting there in peace. No one to cuss me out, no friends to look at me weird, no anxieties of the outside world. Just me, my food, and my peace. This went on for some years and this family member was extremely puzzled and suspicious as to why I was steadily gaining weight. Eventually I quit basketball and for the first time in my life I was free. Quickly I gained an extreme amount of weight and regressed even further socially. I would get home from school and prepare large amounts of food and go back to my room and sit. I had lost all of my friends and any shred of confidence that I might have possessed. After some time of doing this I had something of an epiphany. See, for my entire life I had blamed everyone else. I played the victim and took no responsibility for the f***** up mess that was my life.
I realized that no, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for an abusive, narcissistic figure to ruin my life, my relationship with food, and my social skills, but the things that had happened to me were now my responsibility. (Shoutout David goggins) Not my fault but my responsibility. No one was going to apologize to me, no one could reverse the damage done—except me. At 14 years old I put myself back on a diet(this time alone) and began working out like crazy. I lost weight very quickly and got back into different forms of competitions. I had a background in wrestling and Brazilian jiu jitsu so I got very heavy into that and at 15 I won the US open for my weight class in BJJ. I was once again a superstar, and this time I’d done it alone. From this point forward there was a vicious cycle for my life:
1. Force yourself to lose weight through starvation and over working
2. Accomplish a lot and feel great.
3. Binge eat for months and gain all the weight back

When I tell you this exact cycle has happened 7-8 times I’m not exaggerating. All the way through highschool and many times since. My relationship with food is f*****. But unfortunately that’s not the only problem.

Around 16 years old I started wondering what happens after we die. This forced me to start facing some very difficult topics. I was a Christian but never really explored it too much or gone to church. Immediately I became obsessed with figuring out how to avoid going to hell. I’d have dreams of different things telling me that I was destined to burn for eternity. I sought out help online and this is where I met a lady named-. Long story short this lady was in something similar to that of a cult. I wouldn’t go as far as to actually call it one but it was definitely very very radical. Soon my entire life became about doing the things these people told me I had to do to get to heaven. I was a teenager sitting in class, starving myself, obsessively reading the Bible, and literally praying that I don’t go to hell. In class. That’s some heavy stuff. This was all coupled with my eating disorder of course. This went on for years and eventually lead to a rebellion by me. I said you know what, if I’m going to hell I’m gonna do whatever I want. For the next year or so I partied heavily, got addicted to nicotine, and smoked weed with my friends every single day. Well, as you can imagine, heavy amounts of weed didn’t exactly mix with my personality type. One day I got wayyyyyy too high and was convinced that my throat was closing. To my OG anxiety sufferers you know this as globus sensation but at the time it was a foreign concept to me. As my throat got tighter and tighter my panic rose. My friends thought it would be a good idea to take me for a ride to try to change the scenery for me in an attempt to help. At first it did, but then a particular song came on and it f***** me up royally. The song was “Bitch, don’t kill my vibe” by Kendrick Lamar. As some of you know the song starts out “I am a sinner who’s probably gonna sin again.” My paranoid, high brain took that as a message from God telling me that I was about to die because I was a repeated sinner.

I tried to throw myself from the moving car.

My friends pleaded with me to stop and held me back with all their might. Thankfully they were able to restrain me.
For the next 6 hours I sat in extreme paranoia and fear. Eventually my high wore off and I was left broken. Literally broken. My anxious brain had been introduced to a whole new type of anxiety—Health anxiety.
Since this day, roughly 4 and a half years ago, I have been convinced almost every single day that I have some sort of health issue(with intense physical symptoms to back it up)

I’ve been to the doctor 37 times.
The emergency room twice.
I’ve had multiple x rays
EKG’s
ECG’s
Wore a heart monitor


Every time I was completely healthy. But I couldn’t be convinced of that.


For the last 4 and half years I’ve been battling this health anxiety and eating disorder. I’m without a job. I dropped out of college. And I live with my 2 dogs(who I love so freaking much) and room mate.

But it’s not been completely a losing battle that I’ve been fighting. There have been many lows AND highs. In 2020 I lost around 60 lbs and won two MMA cage fights.
In 21’ I enrolled back in school and completed my associates degree.
My health anxiety is almost fully recovered and my eating disorder is much better as well. I’ve became much more patient in losing weight and have focused on building good habits and improving my relationship with food. It truly is so much better than it was and it’s constantly getting better, but right now it certainly doesn’t feel like it.

I have so many passions and goals and genuinely love many aspects of this life. I’ve even written about 20,000 words of my own mental health based novel. There is a potential for me to live a truly amazing and happy life. So if I have all of these positive things that I’ve worked so hard for then why am I on here in such a depressed place as I write this? Because truthfully I’m not fully recovered yet. I was on a 13 day binge-free streak and last night I checked my weight and wasn’t happy with it so I ate a LOT of unhealthy food. When I eat bad I have zero desire to do anything. I don’t want to shower. I don’t want to shave. I don’t want to look at myself. I don’t want anyone else to see me. And I don’t want to go outside. Because of this I’m beginning to doubt my ability do live any kind of life. I want a career I want friends I want love I want success I want peace I want fulfillment. I want to live a normal life like others get to. I just fear that it’s not in the cards for me

I feel trapped. I feel hopeless. I’ve tried and failed so many times. Hundreds upon hundreds of Different strategies to work through my eating disorder and anxiety/depression. The more I try and fail the less i feel like it’s possible for me to win this battle. I have so many awful qualities. I’m a selfish person who always puts himself first yet doesn’t do anything to actually sustain a good life for himself. I know how truly awful binging makes me feel but when things go wrong I turn into this little kid again who needs that food and that locked room to feel comfort. I’m so ashamed of myself.

When I struggled like this at 17 it was one thing. But to sit here at 23. A grown up. And have nothing going for me. To still be caught in this cycle. This anxiety. This lack of purpose.

It makes me feel like my life was a mistake.

I’m not a f*** up and I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up. But what good is it to keep trying if you can’t succeed?

I would LOVE any feed back and to talk to anyone. It’s my goal to develop some friendships with anyone who can relate to me. Maybe we have knowledge we could share with one another. And if this ridiculously long post was too long to read, I understand. Hell it was almost too long to write.
Thanks again guys.

[maddero]

Hi, I hope you are well, it is comforting to find people with whom you can discuss these issues.
It is really good that you can talk like this about what worries you.
I still don't know what to do in times of anxiety, I don't have a step by step plan of how to lead my life, everything can seem really complicated and many times it is. However I find that's what it's really about, I have always found worthwhile reasons to go on, to follow my passions and interests, every complication is a space to know and grow.
We are too young to leave it at this point.
I hope you are doing well and much success in your future plans.