Perfectionist with an eating disorder I was always the kind of kid that could eat whatever I wanted. Calories, serving sizes, I didn't even know what those were. I was always thin and I never cared what I looked like. Even entering junior high, all I cared about was who my friends were and what I was doing this weekend. I've always been a perfectionist, and I haven't had the best life (but neither has anyone). Don't get me wrong, it wasn't horrifying or anything, it was just difficult and I've come out pretty strong. For some reason or another, in tenth grade, my perfectionism backfired and I turned away from my school work and my behavior, to my body. I was determined to lose weight and have the perfect body. I would restrict myself so much that I'd be starving all of the time. I was so hungry I was sick, and then I'd go out and walk for hours on end. I'd just go out in my yard and walk and walk and walk until I couldn't move. Every little pound I dropped was like a motivator. The more weight I dropped, the better. The less I ate, the better. I could never lose enough, all I saw in the mirror was fat and imperfection. My life was focused around what I had eaten that day, constantly counting calories and calculating what I would be eating next week. If I ate something bad I would hate myself, although I seldom did, because I lived on salads. My friends and my parents started noticing my obsessive workouts and my tiny meals, sometimes none at all. My mom insisted I needed help, but I refused, claiming I did not have a problem, I was just eating healthy, and I believed it too. The struggle was unbearable. I couldn't deal with worrying about it 24/7. I had always considered throwing up, but I had never actually done it before. I actually couldn't figure out how, but one day I did, and I threw up all of the food I binged on at my brother's birthday party. I was disgusted, and I cried for an hour. Even my boyfriend said, do you feel any better? I said no, but only because I wanted to believe it. In turn, I felt better. I could control what I put in my body, and I felt it was out of control. I could get rid of it. It was flawless (except for the physical toll it takes on your body). Thanksgiving turned into eating until I was sick and throwing up for an hour. Christmas was dreaded (my parents knew at the time). I ended up puking in my garbage container in my room and throwing the bag outside so no one knew. It was awful, and I knew I couldn't stop. My options were running out. This mental mind game was stronger than I was. I tried
everything I could think of to fight it, and it was beating me completely. I knew it was either get help, or die, that's how desperate I was. I was even asking my mom to moniter what I ate so I wouldn't throw up anymore. I couldn't take it anymore and I finally told my parents. I was starting to look awful, pale, sick, tired, weak, sleeping all the time. They weren't surprised, but they were incredibly supportive. I'm 17, almost 18 now and I'm going through therapy with a nutritionist and a psychologist. I know I'm doing better, but it's such a hard road. It's a difficult life to lead. Every day I'm becoming more and more myself and less of the eating disorder (that's who I became). It took over me, and I've been fighting it back. I eat much better, and (unfortunately for my obsessive mind) have gained weight so that I'm back to a normal size. I'm making progress but I'm still struggling. I'm fine until I get too careless. I let go completely of what I'm eating and I really feel like I'm going to gain 800 pounds in one day. I never overeat, which I tell myself, and as long as I don't, I'm not going to gain weight, but when I slip and can't control the eating disorder voice, I throw up, even when I know I didn't eat too much. I just get scared, and I obsess and it triggers a purge to make me feel relieved. Even today, I'm probably writing this because I've been doing amazing, and the past couple days I have eaten some foods like cake and ice cream. I ate another piece today, knowing I didn't want it. I only ate it because I told myself I couldn't have it. Then I threw it up. After that I felt sick and I was afraid to eat dinner, so when I did, I felt I overate and threw that up too. Now I just feel sick and I don't even feel better. I still feel like I'm going to be fat and not be able to control myself. I want so badly to be normal. I was so close, and yet I'm still slipping. I need to pull my mind out of that cycle and go back to the me that knows I'm not fat, and accept me for WHO I AM. My advice to anyone with this disorder is get help. Don't be afraid to let go. There's so much more to life than an eating disorder, and you don't want to end it that way either. Be you, not the disorder, and accept yourself. It's a hard, hard road, but the disorder is even harder and much more depressing. Nothing is ever easy, but you have to stick it out and fight for you, your life, and the people who care about you. You can be normal if you let yourself be. Tune out that voice that hates the way you look and moniters what you eat. It's okay to care, but it's not okay to obsess, you'll only eat MORE if you do. Please let this be a help to you and know you CAN get better. You just have to fight and stick with it. We were all made the way we were for a reason, and we can't change it. It's important to be happy and enjoy the life we have while it's here. I always say everything happens for a reason, and you need to look back and reflect on how you've been acting and ask yourself, is it really worth it? Am I really buying into this crap? Why should I hurt my body? Trust me, you don't want this forever. Being tiny is not worth it, and you'll never feel skinny or good enough anyway. Accept who you are. Worst date story: the sobbing man
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