I would say I was about 13 when it started. Every young girl is influenced by the portrayal of thin, tall, beautiful women that is perpetuated in our media. I was mildly overweight, but not to the extent of being unhealthy; however, I couldn't stand myself. I saw an unattractive young girl that needed to change. I played around a little with fad diets: low carb, no sugar, don't eat after 6, etc, but would have little success and fall back into my old ways. I can't say I ever had a traumatic experience or horrible event that drove me to eating disorders, my own mind essentially just brought me there. I decided to experiment with severe undereating, overexercising, and mental manipulation.

People started to notice I was losing weight and would compliment me on it; what 8th grader doesn't want to hear she looks pretty? I was constantly tired, irritable, and sick, but I was losing weight and that's all I cared about. I started to notice I wasn't having periods but didn't feel the need to seek medical attention over it. It was around May 2014 that I chose to finally talk to my mom about it. At that point, I hadn't had a period in 6 months, and I was a frail 107 pounds at 5'5". I went to my family physician that summer and didn't fully tell the truth in fear that I would be sent to a mental health clinic or some other inpatient facility. As a result, I wasn't officially diagnosed with an eating disorder; I was told I simply had some unhealthy tendencies and should strive to change them.

I did change them. I knew what I was doing wasn't healthy, and I wanted to fix it before starting high school. I began to eat more, exercise a little less, and get my body functioning properly again. It lasted for quite a while, and I was at the healthiest I had been my sophomore and junior year. That began to change though, in the middle of my junior year.

I was taking eight classes, and my stress was through the roof. I was still at a healthy weight, but something in me desired control. If I can't control my stress about classes, then how about controlling my body? I began to throw up after eating. I wasn't a textbook bulimic; I didn't binge on copious amounts of junk food and then throw it up. I would throw up after a normal meal if I had any question in my mind it could have been unhealthy. I would throw up after having a small cookie or a little bit of ice cream. Whenever I would go out to eat, I would always take note of where the bathroom was in case I felt the need to purge afterward. I got to the point where I was purging nearly every day. I didn't lose much weight, maybe five pounds, but I felt as if I could control my body in a way that others couldn't. In fact, as I look back, I actually got a little heavier after starting to purge because my body was constantly confused, unable to absorb nutrients, and bloated. This continued through my senior year, and after being medically disqualified by the Navy for ROTC because of previous eating disorder behavior, I finally decided enough was enough.

I talked to my best friend first. She wasn't necessarily surprised and had her suspicions about it, but she wanted to help me and be supportive. I also talked with my boyfriend, who wanted to help me get healthy and keep me accountable when I felt triggered. I talked with God, asking for strength to overcome it and the wisdom to treat my body as a temple; as I am called to do. Chronologically, this occurred at the beginning of the summer of 2018, right before my freshman year of college. I did well for the majority of the summer, but the stress of leaving my parents, friends, and beginning a long-distance relationship at two separate colleges would occasionally cause me to fall back into old habits. However, I kept pushing. Striving. Working. I wanted to be my healthiest self and be able to help others that are in the same situation.

Recovery isn't about perfection. It's about honesty. I still occasionally have the thoughts, urges, or triggers, but when I do, I tell my closest people about it and don't keep it in the dark. Meeting with an on-campus psychiatrist and beginning medication for anti-anxiety helped tremendously. The main point is, talking is the first step. I struggled with EDs for so long because I kept it in the dark. It was my dirty little secret that I kept tucked away and hidden from those who wanted nothing but to love me and receive honesty from me. At this point, I have a much healthier relationship with food, I am passionate about lifting, and I am passionate about remaining honest and free of the dark secret. My recovery isn't perfect, and nobody is. It's about taking the first step and bringing the dark to light.