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My anorexia started when I was about 12 years old. Around that time 3 of my family members had passed away all within just a few months of each other. On top of that my mom was sick and had to be hospitalized for awhile. All of this stuff that was happening stressed me out and made me very anxious. I was always worrying about my mom and if she would be okay. I began to eat very little and I got really thin. I didn’t think much of it at first, but soon my parents and other family members started telling me that I was too thin and that I needed to eat. Something inside of me told me they were wrong. I liked the feeling that not eating gave me. When I restricted food I felt so in control and accomplished.

When I was about 13 I started to really feel the effects of not eating. I was tired all the time, my hair was falling out, and I was always dizzy. One day at school I passed out for the first time. It was humiliating to have everyone in my class stare and wonder what was wrong with me. This embarrassed me so much that I decided to start eating again for the rest of the school year, but when summer came things just got bad again. I didn’t have many friends and I felt so alone all of the time. Anorexia was what I turned to, to comfort me.

I fell back into my old habits and started restricting food again. Some days when I felt I had eaten too much I would throw it up. My doctor started telling me that I was underweight and that I needed to gain some. I was scared about being unhealthy and what the anorexia was doing to my body, but I also didn’t want to gain weight.

Things started to get really bad when I turned 16. I had sunk into a deep depression and I hardly ever went out or saw my friends. I felt really lonely and I thought that I didn’t deserve love or friendship. I started cutting as a way to further avoid these emotions and thoughts.

Nowadays I really try not to cut and I feel like I have that under control. I have also been able to keep myself from throwing up any food. I’m really proud of these accomplishments, but my anorexia is still an everyday struggle. I restrict, count calories, and weigh myself at least twice a day.

When I think about how I’m putting my health at risk I really want to recover. Other times, when things are not so good, I dread the thought of recovery. My anorexia gives me a sense of comfort and control, which makes it really hard to want to stop. Although it will be hard, I know I need to get better. I don’t want my family to have to worry about me and I don’t want my little brother to be without his big sister. I need things to get better so I can start living a normal, happy life.

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