Diagnosis

(Contains topics of suicide, anxiety, and eating disorders.) I didn't understand myself- only the exhaustion the way anxiety pressed on my chest like a warning I could never turn off. Food became numbers, hunger became a routine, and I kept calling the weakness "control" because I didn't know it was an illness. The darkest thoughts came quietly, whispering that I was a burden, that disappearing would be easier than asking anyone to notice the pain. It took nearly losing my life for someone to finally see the signs I thought were just personal failures. Getting help doesn't fix anyone instantly- but it pulls back far enough to realize I hadn't wanted an ending I just need a reason to stay