My story
You can almost understand my history just by reading my username, @Svagtillstark which means from weak to strong on Swedish. I have recovered from a weak and anorexic, sick, depressed and burned out girl to a strong both mentally and physically, happy and inspired girl that wants to help and motivate people to get healthy.
Alot of the recovery I did with the great help of strength training that I found year 2013 and the interest to start building myself up instead of breaking me down started directly and I went up 10kg.
I am going to share my story. Because one of the most powerful things we can do is talk openly about a personal experience of a mental health condition. We might be surprised by how many people also have experienced a mental health condition at some point in their life, or supported a loved one with a similar experience.
Courage is contagious, and talking about mental health conditions helps to change negative attitudes and stereotypes.
Here is my story from depression:
I was 16 years old. I was going to start high school. I did not know what I wanted. I just wanted to live and have fun. The year before, I had suffered from anorexia and had been forcibly admitted to hospital and an eating disorder clinic. I had missed half the year of the eighth grade, but it did not matter, I made it through 9th grade.
I was healthy and recovered and wanted a new life.. new beginning, so I decided to start a new high school.
In the school, I did not know anyone. I felt that I did not fit in. I had never been good in school, but now I felt even worse.
I walked from lesson to lesson, I did not understand what the teacher was talking about in class, everything went into one ear and out through the other. I felt stupid. Weird. Odd. Everyone was so good at school, motivated and focused on their studies.
Of course I had a milder variant of dyslexia but the principal thought I was like everyone else and that I did not need any extra help.
After a couple months everything started to become dizzy. I lived in my own bubble. I felt anxious.
I went alone on lunch break, I forgot the clock and arrived late for the lessons. I began to feel tired, unmotivated and lost. Who was I? Where had my old friends gone? Why did I feel so strange, different, useless?
At that time, I still lived at home with my parents. But I could not talk about my feelings. I have never liked to talk about myself, the last thing I wanted was someone to comfort me and feel sorry for me. I felt disgusted of myself. Why could I not just get myself together. Why could I not be as good as everyone else? Why did I feel this way? What’s wrong with me? I was ashamed.
Every day, the anxiety began to take over me a little more. I started to hate myself. Everything I did was wrong. I also started having panic attacks and horrible memories, nightmares at night from the time I was sick with anorexia.
It felt like I was never good enough. I had also wasted so much time, energy, money on my illness by my parents and siblings that I felt useless and horrible. We went to several different psychologists, but no one felt right.
I still went regularly twice a week to a therapist and talked about nothing. I tried all kinds of medications, but they made me feel even more confused and empty.. It felt like I had no feelings, no anger, sadness, joy, happiness, nervousness, or so. I just felt tired and anxious and unsuccessful.
The days went by. It never got better. It was the same hard, tired, anxious days. Somedays I just managed to lie in bed. There were never better days. I had missed so much of school so it was unnecessary to even continue I thought. And I had no strength or motivation either. The zest for life was gone.
It was November and I tried suicide for the first time. I overdosed on my depression medication and was going to overdose on alcohol in the bathroom but my mother found me. Mom took all my medications, and hid it, giving only one dose a day. Suddenly I stopped taking them and instead collecting them for the next attempt. I did not think much. I thought that was an option. I never believed there was a future for me.
The next suicide attempt was an overdose of Dad’s sleeping pills. I became dizzy, and had to lie down. I waa thinking “now I’m dying”. I got a panic attack and I ran downstairs to my mother and cried. I could not say anything. I Just cried.
My mother and I took a quick trip to Spain to just relax and take a break from everything. It did so well. Oh what I loved it. In Spain I felt no anxiety. Just sun, pool, good food, happy people, spa, massage, shopping, snorkeling, kayaking etc. I felt so good.
But when we got home after two weeks, I got bad again.
I Was so tired of life and depressed that it was not worth living, I felt. I Had only one friend and she lived in Sweden. I talked to her every day, but mostly about how bad we felt. But she was still a great support to me. She was my best friend. Really. She was exactly like me, just a year younger.
I Had worked as a model from time to time during this time. Loved standing in front of the camera, pretending to be someone else than I really was. I Felt it was my thing and that I was good at something. I also felt that I could make my family proud if I became successful or pay all the debts back one day, maybe then they would love me, I thought.
I was 16 years old. Had never been away from home just when I was at the hospital for anorexia and some football camps. I traveled alone to Japan for a modeljob. Did not think so much, I never thought about anything really,..
I thought that it was an opportunity that only comes once in a lifetime and things happen for a reason. I did not even really know how a modeltrip would be like, i thought that I was just going to be photographed and walk on the catwalk and have fun. I was wrong, It was anything but fun…
I had received an email from my modelagency with the address to the place I would stay at. I took the bus from the airport in Tokyo, Haneda. I Did not understand any of the Japanese signs but somehow I arrived at the right place. It was not a fancy place. A old building, far away from the city. I got my room. I opened the door, the lock was broken so it was open- it smelled of smoke, cigarette smoke. It was messy, dirty. There was rubbish and dust on the murky floor. There was two small beds and one window.
I Got a huge lump in my throat. So I would live here for two months. Okay. The other girl that I was going to share the room with, was apparently not here. I sat for a while and rested from the shock and then I needed to find the modelagency. I had no idea how to use the trains and local transport, it took me 8 hours before I got to the right place. I was so tired, I barely could hold my own legs.
At the agency, it was time to take the measurements around the waist, arms, chest, hips, thighs. They told me I had too wide waist. That I was a little too big, that it would be good if I got a little smaller and that I was going to be kicked out if I gained weight. My waist was 64 cm and they said I needed to be under 60 centimeters.
The model world turned out to be very different from what I expected. I was told that one of my legs was bigger than the other. So much body complex I got from that!
I stopped eating to control my anxiety.
I survived on coffee from Starbucks. Without milk, cream, sugar. It would be black and in size XL if possible because I usually came back from the castings late on the evening and I could not get any sleep on the hard bed, even if I was completly exhausted.
It was difficult and heavy to understand the model world and I did not know Japanese either. I noticed how incredibly important it is to have a friend and someone to talk to. I had no one.
A couple weeks went by, but i became worse. I felt so bad that I could not sleep anymore, but I could not get up either. The agency called and shouted at me why I’m not at the castings. I tried to explain that I was feeling bad but they said I still need to go. I called every day and night with my parents. They could not do anything, they said that everything would be fine. I screamed, cried, I could not take it anymore. I wanted to go home.
I could not stand another day. Mom said she would be here in a few days. But I did not have the strength for another minute. So I made my third suicide attempt. I could no longer bear myself. I was a failed person who only caused problems. It happened on the motorway.
But I was saved and came home and it felt like a heavy weight had been released from my shoulders.
Back home, I started overeating because I was disgusted with how thin I had become in a few weeks and to comfort myself.
I decided that I would take charge of my life. I needed to do a big lifestyle change.
I went with my dad to the gym. wow … that was incredible. Sure, I had run on the treadmill several times before and been on zumba, spinning and stuff, but when I started lifting weights, using machines in the gym … it was incredible. A feeling that is indescribable. I felt strong. I felt safe. Good. Cruel. Different. Nearly happy… It was so nice to be able to lift big weights that you never thought you would be able to. The feeling of having was incredible.
I felt strong for the first time in my life. Physically strong. I became confident with the help of the gym, I found a place where I could be myself, where I was accepted as I was, in the gym everyone worked and focused on themselves. For the first time in years I felt that I had found the joy of life again. Found something I felt good about, something that made me smile, laugh, something I could live for. I did not care about what would happen to the body, I ate more and felt more energetic, stronger, more stately. I also gained 10 kg!
I took a break from my modeling job. They said I had grown too big. Fuck that. I had finally understood that joy, happiness, health is the most important thing we have.
. When I was depressed it was alot because I didn’t know who I was, what I wanted, and because I lived a life for someone else’s sake. I thought I would be happy if I did what others wanted, but it was the other way around and I realized it too late when I had nothing left. I felt that everyone went further away from me. I felt that I just fell deeper into the cave and felt lost. To then find the strength training was a light in the darkness. I found something that made me believe in myself, something I waited for every day, something that strengthened me mentally and physically. I found my own thing, that I did for myself and no one else. It became my hobby, passion, something I daydreamed about. I wanted to learn everything and more about health and how Important it is to take care of yourself. I never wanted to fall down again. I seriously thought at my worst that I would never make it or find life again. It was so amazing to find a passion in life, and to know that It would never leave you 😀 It could have just as easily been anything,a pet or a friend or a hobby like Art or Music. But it was the strength training. I have always been interested in sports and always been active in life, so It was nothing strange to start training. But to the opposite from the soccer and running, this was different, new. It suprised me every workout, you never knew what to expect. And for the first time in my life felt STRONG. Who cared if it was true or not, or what others were thinking.
During these years, I have grown as incredible as a person and become stronger than ever. I have learned that you have to face your feelings, fears, anxieties, difficulties and not hide them and think that you forget it. I have learned to listen to myself and not others. My will, my health, my well-being ALWAYS come first. You live in this body, it’s your house, so take care of it.
That was my story. Thank you for reading.