In a moment of distress and a need to vent, I called. I reached out for help. Not because I wanted to take my own life, but because my impulsivity was trying to take control of my body and mind. It was telling me to throw caution to the wind, to wreak havoc before it took off. And yet… I called.
I called a helpline because, in a moment of distress, I felt misunderstood—even by the person I love most. A single misunderstanding sent me over the edge. Yet I’d told them it was just a bad day.
I reached out for help—not because I wanted attention, but simply because I wanted to be heard. I wanted someone to understand what I was going through inside. No, my problems aren’t insurmountable, but they cause me stress.
I called a helpline because my impulsivity takes over everything when I’m feeling anxious. I could have done what I did last time and handled it all on my own, but that would have just ended in guilt and a feeling of disgust.
I called a helpline for people going through the same kinds of problems as me. A helpline that’s nonjudgmental and accepts you just as you are, in whatever state you’re in. My first instinct was to grab my cell phone before turning to food to cope with my emotions. Before stuffing my face endlessly and regretting it afterward.
I called because I’ve started the process of seeking help. To be honest, it’s going to be a long, winding, and rocky road.
I called a helpline because I have a problem with binge eating and I was having a crisis.