Seven years ago, my aunt died. I was very close to her and I didn't know how to cope, as I was still 6 years old. I cried every night because I was all of a sudden scared. Scared to die. Scared to feel like I was nothing. Scared to admit that I had a problem. I turned to food, instead of getting help. I drowned myself in my mother's cooking, and soon couldn't control myself. I became morbidly obese. I never thought too much about it, until I got called fat in first grade. Now I realized what I had done to myself. I had made it so my eating habits were bizarre. It took four more years for me to stop my habits. It took me an other year to admit I still needed therapy for my experiences. I finally figured out how to control that anxiety that plagued me for seven years. Don't wait, solve your problems now while they make your life miserable.