In my younger years, I never gave mental disorders a second thought. I thought of them as any other unfortunate circumstance. I had no idea the pain and emotional distress that they could bring upon a person. I didn’t know until I lived one.
Anorexia is nor a joke or a “phase.” It is a serious, life-threatening condition that seizes a person’s entire perception of reality. In fact, anorexia isn’t even about the food. It’s about a need for control, low-self-esteem, and mainly, a desire for perfection. The three things most anorexics have in common. I know because I have lived it.
There is not one specific reason I began starving myself. I grew up in an environment where the notion was fend for yourself and maybe you’ll turn out well. With that said, I took hold of that notion and spent years trying to live up to that; trying to impress people, trying to be best at everything, and trying to be loved. My parents got divorced when I was four and the situation between them has never been pretty. My dad got remarried when I was five. Hence, at a very young age; I was kind of thrown into two different families that I needed to please. Pleasing people was the only thing I knew as a kid. However, I didn’t become good at it until I was much older. My dad married a woman named Kimberly and along with Kimberly came her daughter, Stefania, who was five years older than me. As a child, I was extremely introverted. I was always afraid of bothering people that I just did my best not to talk at all. However, not talking ultimately got me nowhere. Since I was very quiet, Stefania and I never developed a good, functional “sisterhood.” Half the time, she would come home at midnight and I would never see her. However, I never made much attempts to be her friend because I was afraid of her not liking me. And the attempts that I did make, she would scow at me and call me things like a “brat” or “stupid” or “weird.” I was never “cool” enough for her. And because of this, eventually, I stopped trying to have any friendship with her. I shut her out completely and just watched her as she chose her way of life. Then, there’s Kimberly who just never had much admiration for me; as a kid, I just could not impress her as hard as I strove. At a little kid, I thought of myself as a pointless object. I was not meant for anything, in my mind. Along with Kimberly came Blair and Brittany. These were the two girls that my dad tried to adopt several times, but failed. These girls were Kimberly’s best friend’s daughters. Her best friend, Carrie died of breast cancer in 2006 and the girls were left with their drug addict father, Arc. Arc has spent years in and out of jail since then. Anyhow, Kimberly and my dad took these girls in and helped raise them. So, they were basically my “adoptive” sisters, but not legally. Like, I said before all I wanted was to make other people happy, including them. However, I was never good enough for them. My dad and Kimberly used them as people I needed to compare myself to. For years, I would listen to statements like “You have a zit, Blair and Brittany don’t get zits” or “You’re hair isn’t straight enough, Blair and Brittany always have their hair kept beautifully.” I became so consumed into being beautiful because I never felt like I matched up to them. To make matters worse, these girls isolated me. As much I joined in and showed them respect/care, they made it very clear they wanted NOTHING to do with me. I was dehumanized and there was absolutely no unconditional positive regard. Then, my best friend (at the time), Alexa decided she hated me because I wasn’t as great as Blair and Brittany. These girls made it clear to Alexa it was either them or me. And Alexa chose them. No doubt, it hurt like hell to be betrayed by the only person you trusted. But what hurt even more was that my dad, Kimberly, Blair, Brittany, and Stefania all remained tight as a belt with Alexa. In other words, they would have her over my house every single day and I would have to lock myself in my room, not to be humiliated, not to be mocked or criticized. I would lock myself in my room and I would hear them in the room across the hall, having a grand old time, where I wasn’t allowed to be. And if I happened to do something, they didn’t like, they would have their own little gossip session and get me in trouble with my dad or Kimberly. It was like Mean Girls in real life. These girls were total Plastics who wanted nothing more than to tear me down like a house of cards. I was targeted because I was breakable and I was weak. I was nor aggressive or abrasive. This type of emotional abuse lasted for years.
Then, there is my other family. My mom never got remarried but the men that she did date were nothing more than selfish, assholes that stole her self-confidence and broke her down both verbally and emotionally. First, there was Carmen. Carmen was about ten years older than my mom and was the complete definition of the word, obsessive. He would meddle into every person my mom had any type of association with, whether that be her family, her friends, her customers at work, anyone. He never wanted to marry her; he just wanted someone to pick him up in his doom. He used her as his emotional support, not as a partner in a relationship. Not only that, but he would criticize her and beat her down with his words. He would call her things like a “bad mom,” or “weak,” and point out every single one of her flaws constantly. That is not love. But I understand why my mom stayed in that relationship for so long (7 years) because she needed someone to just listen, even if they don’t really care about you, someone to just listen to you. And I can understand not wanting to lose that. Carmen was not only hurtful to my mom but was one of the demons in earlier life. He would call me things like “fat” or “lazy.” The words broke me down and I felt myself becoming physically and emotionally drained little by little. I was never fat, I was just never pretty. Finally when I was about twelve, my mom got rid of that scoundrel. But soon after came Dan. Dan is the cruelest, dirtiest, sickening man I have ever met in my entire life. Just the very thought of him makes my palms sweat. He abused my mom, no doubt. He was ten times worse than Carmen. He was in the picture during the time that I was at my worst in the anorexia, so I’ll come back to him.
To understand, some of the reasons I had the mindsets, I had is to understand my mother’s family (my grandparents, aunts, and uncles). My family always had very strange notions of the way to live. And I became so befuddled on how I was going to make it in the world, pleasing every person. My family didn’t like imperfections. There was always something I needed to change about myself to abide by their standards. I know at a time, they loved me in some odd way. However, the anorexia changed the way they viewed me. I was no longer their sweet, little niece. I was a sick, dying nothing to them. To this day, my relationships with my family are still strained because of the anorexia. They had the illusion that I was purposely trying to hurt them. But I wasn’t, I had a disease. I didn’t wake up, one morning and say “Hey, I think I’ll be anorexic.” No, it was a small thing that became a full blown out illness.
Moreover, I obviously developed horrible self-esteem at a very young age. I remember at girl scouts, when I was eight, we had to write positive things about ourselves and I wrote “I am ugly,” “I am worthless,” and “I am stupid.” At this point, the only person I could really turn to was my mom. She was the only one I know for a fact, loved me from the start to the finish. At girl scouts, nobody wanted to be my friend and nobody wanted to talk to me. And I don’t blame them, I was quiet and shy. I wasn’t bubbly or outgoing, like most of the kids my age. However, my mom stood by me (she was one of the girl scout leaders) and she became that friendship space, I never had. But yet, she still maintained a good parental role. She taught me to stay strong and deal with life’s struggles in a proactive approach. And I will always hold that in my heart as long as I live.
Anyhow, I quit girl scouts and simultaneously becoming desensitized to the emotional distress at my father’s house. In fifth grade, I finally found a friend. We’ll call her Kate. Kate was the new girl and I introduced myself, hoping to find some type of friendship. Me and her could relate because we were both outcasts. She was tormented because of her weight and I was tormented because I was weird. The friendship had its ups and downs. She would stand up to the other kids who would kick/hit me and also the kids who would trash talk me. I remember at recess, one day, I was hiding behind a dumpster, running away from those kids and Kate came out and stood up for me. As great as it was, the friendship became on her terms. I was only her friend when she wanted me to be her friend. It was totally fair- weathered and dysfunctional. I made my fair share of mistakes. For example, I called her a “b****,” which was so mean. I should have never said that. Then, she had her cousin give me a death threat. Her cousin left me a message when I was eleven, saying she was going to “come to my house and murder me in my sleep.” It scared me half to death. But of course, then my mom called her dad and screamed at him. Then, there was the time, I tried to reason with her and she shoved me into the mud. It was insane, crazy, and dysfunctional all at the same time. My mom advised me not to be friends with her. But somehow, I couldn’t let the friendship go. I put up with her antics for years, between getting slammed with boulders, getting rumors started about me, being turned on by others, and being ignored; it was a hell that I couldn’t escape. Even when I decided not to be her friend, she still started drama to ruin me. It was no doubt, a rollercoaster of emotions and tension.
Furthermore, my middle school years were very much different from elementary school. I made friends in middle school. Although, these friendships were unhealthy and dysfunctional; it was better than having nobody at all. Middle school had its pros and cons. I met my best friend, Caitlin and hence, I found myself a part of a “clique.” I became associated with Caitlin’s group of friends and they became friend-enemies to me. Well, most of them give or take a little. I also fell in love with running during this time. Along with Caitlin’s group, I was also in Kate’s group as well. Then, I met a new girl, we’ll call Madison. I put my heart and soul into trying to make Madison feels comfortable. However, Caitlin’s group of friends didn’t like that. They hated Madison because she wasn’t good enough for them. And immediately, they turned on me because I was her friend. From there, I spent most of my time, trying to keep everyone at peace with one another. There were fights, there was drama, and there was heartache; especially when I fell head over heels for someone that I knew I couldn’t have. Ryan was Greta (leader of Caitlin’s group) and Madison’s crush. Ryan and I fell for each other but everything we had was thrown away because he chose to date someone who had a higher social status than I did. It was the biggest heartbreak of my entire life. I swear I will never love anyone else the way I loved him that is one thing for sure. It took me about two years to get over him. He made me feel so worthless inside but yet, I still loved him more than anything. Every piece of me felt like it was crumbling. He was everything I ever wanted and I tried everything to get him to want me. I became a runner and started playing lacrosse just to impress him. Although I did fall in love with running/ lacrosse, that’s not the point. I did so much just to impress him, but yet it was never good enough. I wasn’t pretty or popular like the other girls he dated. I was ridiculous to ever think he would take a chance and follow his heart. To this day, my mom still calls him a “twerp.” Anyhow, he was the only person I ever loved romantically.
After that year, I shut everyone out from my personal life. I became guarded by a wall of my own distrust. I turned to myself for everything. I didn’t want to be ugly anymore. So I started cutting out foods from my diet. It was easy to hide at first because nobody paid attention to me. The only person, who was picking up on my dirty little secret, was Caitlin because she was with me all the time (school and lacrosse). To become, perfect; I created a detailed schedule that I required myself to follow every single day. Here’s how it went:
*Wake up and get ready for school (skipping breakfast)
*School (eating a few grapes for lunch)
*Lacrosse practice
*Go home
*Eat a Jenny Craig diet meal
*Complete the abs video
*Run two miles outside
*Run a mile and a half on the treadmill
*Go to karate
*Go home
*Complete four hours’ worth of hardcore strength work
*Physical hygiene activities

Along with the schedule, I decided school needed to become my love. I needed love and care from something, and if I wasn’t going to get it from other people, I was going to get it from something. Not that I hadn’t done well in school before (I was relatively intelligent), I needed it to become my relationship. I needed to maintain perfect grades, so I could become perfect both intellectually and physically. Little did I know, my idea of perfection would almost take my life. As time went by, the eating disorder was becoming even worse. Besides my school work, the only thing I loved was looking in the mirror and seeing myself shrinking little by little. Seeing bones was beautiful to me. It was my method of feeling good about myself. I spent my entire life restrained and all about others, now I finally found something I could do for myself, something I could control. The anorexia helped me to not only have self-esteem, but it allowed me to forget about every other stress in my life because all I’d be thinking about was how many fat grams & calories I was taking in. I forgot about my friends, my family, my interests, my low self-worthiness, everything. The essential two things I was doing with my life was A. maintaining perfect grades and B. losing weight. I was too much of an overachiever that I couldn’t stand the thought of not doing well in school or in anything else I pursued. As I fell through the cracks in this disorder, my heath was seriously dropping. My hair was becoming brittle. My body was intensely pale. I stopped getting my period. I couldn’t go anywhere without feeling tired. I had zero energy for anything. I’m lucky I never blacked out. My teeth became really unnourished. Anorexia affects your entire well-being, physically and emotionally.

I strived to hide it at first, but it soon became impossible to hide. I remember one day, I was talking about calories with Caitlin, explaining nutrition facts to Caitlin and Madison asked what was going on. Caitlin said, “She is Calorie crazy!” I turned away and Madison looked me dead square in the eyes and said “You’re either stupid or you’re anorexic.” I immediately denied it and said “I am not anorexic!” I knew I had a problem, but I didn’t want to admit it because I didn’t want to risk getting fat. I remember my friends writing in my eighth grade yearbook, “Eat more than two grapes” and “Stop what you are doing to yourself.” Things like that filled all the autograph pages. I didn’t listen. On the last day of eighth grade, Greta (meanest girl I’ve ever met besides Kate) pointed to me and said “You got skinny!” I smiled. Caitlin’s like “She’s right and that’s not good!” Again, I didn’t listen. Then my teachers started complimenting me, suddenly I was actually being noticed and not being overlooked like an animate object. My teachers would say, “Wow, you look great!” I took those compliments and ran with them as my motivations to keep losing. I had the illusion that if I ate, I needed to burn it off before it turned to fat on my body. That is the reason I was obsessed with exercising. That summer, since school was out, I had even more time to exercise and starve. My mom would beg me to eat and just go to bed and not stay up to exercise, again I didn’t listen. As my dad’s family watched me destroy myself, my dad became angry. He would imply that I should have been an aborted child. He would say I was a “horrible daughter, sister, and person.” And of course, he would say how much better Blair and Brittany were than me (although, I was totally victorious over them intelligence wise). Nobody ever respected that I exceled in school. My dad was too consumed in his family with Kimberly, Stefania, Blair, Brittany, and Alexa that I was nothing to him. My mom was too consumed in her abusive relationship and her hatred for my dad that she didn’t have time to recognize my achievements. But that didn’t stop me, I wanted success and I knew how to get it. Even if it killed me, I was willing to put forth my heart and soul into everything I pursued.

Dan was the most repulsive, despicable person I have ever met in my entire life. He would call me “F***ed up.” He would call me “selfish” and a “b****.” He would scream in face and force food at me violently. I legitimately thought he was going to try and murder me. I felt so unsafe in my house. I wanted to go and live with my grandparents at some points. He would call my mother “a horrible mom” and blame my disorder on her (and of course me). He beat down my little brother, calling him a “brat” and a “f***er,” and all these horrible things that I remember one night; Anthony (my brother) was hysterically crying in his room. His face was bursting red, tears streaming down his face like fire rolling down a rope. I tried to pick him back up but it was too late, Dan broke his little heart into a thousand pieces. I could handle the pain, I was used to it. I was used to being hurt. Then, there came the day, Dan moved in. I lost it. I literally called my aunt to get me out of that nut house. Dan used my mom for money for cigarettes and for shelter. He never loved her. He used her and played with her heart. And it sickens me that a human-being could be that cruel. Again, my mom needed someone to listen and be there. And as much as I understand, it kills me to know that she had to suffer that type of emotional abuse. He would say things like “I love you” to keep my mom. Dan scared me just as much as my own father scared me. Dan was dangerous. The entire relationship between those two was completely dysfunctional. And the flashbacks from those nights when he went on his rampages still frighten me. It’s like having PTSD only not about combat, just emotional abuse. Tearing a person down until they break is not love. It’s pure abuse.

Between the drama at my mom’s and at my dad’s, I was eventually forced into recovery. I had no desire to recover at first, so I didn’t take it seriously at all. My family (my mom’s family) freaked out. They told me that they weren’t coming to visit me when I was hospitalized, that I was only killing myself, that I’m worse than the worst, and my grandmother just cried continually. It was brutal. My family did not like not being listened to and did just that. I tuned them out; I knew I lost their love and respect- so why bother trying to gain it back? In my mind, I didn’t need their love. School and the eating disorder was the only love I needed. My family screamed, yelled, cried, and yet it didn’t work. I screamed and yelled back. I didn’t listen. I was extremely stubborn and hard-headed.

The day I got checked out at Renfrew, I was very nonchalant. I remember thinking to myself that I didn’t need to be there. But as soon as I went in, the physician immediately diagnosed me with anorexia nervosa and mentioned that I was underweight with an abnormal heart rate and my vitals were about to crash. I didn’t emote until she banned me from exercising. I was forced to quit karate, quit running, and quit doing anything that involved exercise. That was the moment where I literally had an emotional breakdown. I couldn’t live without exercise, I couldn’t become fat. In my mindset, if I gained weight, I would never be respected or loved by anyone ever again (not that I had much of it before). I thought of myself as absolutely nothing more than a number. If I couldn’t exercise, I was nothing. I was nothing without the disorder. After this news, I starved myself even more. In my faulty perceptional process, I couldn’t eat because I couldn’t exercise to burn it off. I broke this rule. I exercised secretly in the bathroom. And I even started to try and purge. However, that luckily didn’t continue. I didn’t have room to become bulimic too. My perceptions were nothing like the reality. One night, Stefania came into my room and said to me, “Everyone thinks you’re going to die but I told them you’re not, I know what it feels like not wanting to be fat, here’s some nutrition bars and a manual.” And she was gone. I didn’t believe her. She never cared. She was only talking to me so that if I died she wouldn’t have to feel guilty for not talking to me. For weeks, I bawled my eyes out. Quitting karate, meant I had to postpone my dream of becoming a black belt. I had no purpose, in my mind. I was nothing if I couldn’t be skinny.

Soon after, I began going to nutrition counseling and psychotherapy. Nutrition counseling was my worst nightmare. Reading aloud every single thing you ate, being weighed by a woman trying to make you gain, and then being given a meal plan with food you have to eat is pure hell for an anorexic. I hated eating. I hated food. I hated anything that had to do with food. Psychotherapy was tolerable but became manageable. I learned a lot about myself and why I had sunk so low. I didn’t mind talking to a stranger because I knew she wouldn’t judge me. She was one of the only people in my life I really felt understood my struggles.

Eventually, as I began to realize in therapy, I wasn’t a number. I am a human-being with a soul that is when I realized I could recover. The first step was admitting you have a problem. However, recovering is MUCH easier said, than actually done. I had to stop caring about nutrition labels, I had to stop obsessing over what’s in every food product, and most importantly, I have to stop viewing things in such a delusional way. Recovery was tough. There were times when I would lose weight without trying. Before when I was sad, I would restrict. I now was realizing I had to let that go. I struggled through recovery, especially because my mom’s family was just so hurtful (although I was actually listening now). One night, my aunt said to me, “You have no idea what you have done. Look at these two pictures. Which one do you think you were happier in?” In the one picture, I was a skeleton and in the other one, I looked healthy. I pointed to the one where I looked healthy. She replied, “Exactly. What you have is not only affecting you, it’s affecting all of us. What are you going to say to Alexis one day when she wants to do the exact same thing that you’re doing, what are you going to say when she says “But she did it’ What are you going to say then Car, what?” I immediately started bawling my eyes out. Not for myself but because in all this time, I was never thinking about how this would affect my cousin, Alexis. Alexis was kind of like the little sister, I never had and she looked up to me. And in that moment, I knew I let her down. I needed to bring this ship back to the shore before it sunk completely. I didn’t want to have to say to Alexis one day that I was weak and couldn’t get the help I needed. I wanted to be able to say to her that “Yes, I had anorexia but I was strong enough to recover.” I had to save myself before it was too late. And that’s exactly what I did.

With a lot of support from Caitlin and her mom, I somehow found the strength to realize I am more than my GPA, I am more than a number, and I am more than what is on the outside. I am not defined by one single thing. With a lot of perseverance and time, I was able to physically recover. Although, it took years to get my period back, I did recover from anorexia. The key is keeping a positive attitude, even when everything in your world just sucks. And I found that the world has so many possibilities when you learn to realize that there is no truth in the lie that you don’t matter. Everyone has a purpose and was put in this world for a reason. I genuinely believe that everything happens for a reason and the reason I had an eating disorder was so that I could become a stronger person, and help others who struggle with body image. I have made the decision to be happy. Think happy and you’ll be happy. I consider my eating disorder as an aspect in my life that only made me stronger, along with every other struggle I dealt with. And I want to spend the rest of my life helping others, no matter what it is because I know what it feels like to be stuck in a certain mindset. Everyone is beautiful and everyone has strength inside them to overcome anything!