The darkest year

Many of you have heard about my battle with anorexia. Your first thoughts are she wants attention, she is making it up. Well I wasn’t. A year ago my life was great. From the outside. I was a gifted student, had a steady job, and had a Nicholas sparks relationship. But it wasn’t times got hard with my boyfriend, I was struggling in classes, I hated my job, I couldn’t sleep. It was as though I was being burring alive in the stigma of perfection. Perfection ruled my life. My industry skills needed to be perfect, I had to look put together all the time. The only one who didn’t care was a man I went to school with.

A man who I would soon spend every day with, ignore my family for, stay out until 3 o’clock in the morning. This man read me like a novel cover to cover. He had me hocked he knew how to make me hurt for him and with him. Almost every week he would make suicidal calls to me. I would go to the VA with him; I would calm him down when he lost his temper. Little did I realized that my own life was spiraling out of control. Clothes didn’t fit the way they used to. I was moody no one wanted to be around me. I soon got to the point were I wanted to kill myself I wanted my misery to end.

I was horrified. This isn’t the girl I knew. When you are in the moment of those thoughts you are so scared you can’t function. This thoughts continued almost every week for months.

The people around me began noticing my smaller figure. I was proud I had what everyone wanted. I bought a scale. A common household item that would rule my life. I weighed myself the moment I got up four times throughout the day and the last thing I would do before bed. I got a gym membership and would push myself so had I almost passed out everyday. From the moment I woke up till I forced myself to fall asleep by taking sleeping aids I was as cold as ice, I shook so bad I had a hard time writing, I had a headache. I started shutting down. I had dropped 30# and 4 pant sizes. My hair once long, soft and full of life laid on my pillow limp and lifeless. My beautiful skin became riddled with acne. My ring. The promise ring my boyfriend had given me three years earlier slipped of my finger. I would find myself sitting in my bathroom sobbing and telling myself not to purge even though I wanted to.

I knew I was in facing death when I went three days without eating, filling my day with looking up other girls who were sick. Taking photos of myself in unhealthy ways.

The moment I knew I needed help was when my nanny kids stated asking questions about why they could feel my ribs and they no longer wanted to cuddle with me because I was so thin.

Saying goodbye to my kids was the hardest thing I have ever done, yet treatment was my only hope.