Bulimia did not begin for me on a specific date or even a specific year. What seemed to hit me suddenly had taken years to develop and more to understand.
Nothing has affected me so deeply, hurt me so severely or engulfed me so wholly. An eating disorder was my act of survival. I developed bulimia to alleviate the pain and confusion of being a sensitive person.
Controlling food helped to numb the overwhelming sensations that bore down on me from all directions; I felt lost in a whirlwind of emotions I could not even identify.
Food became the easiest way to ease the harshness of the world. So many conflicting thoughts and feelings were surging through me that I concentrated on food to block out what I did not understand.
I was slowly building walls of protection and layers of caution around myself, but no amount of armour could shield me from my own pain. I spent my years in high school with a fake smile on my face and a dead spirit. All I cared about was the number on the scale and my reflection in the mirror.
People became blank faces and my memories from those times are a blur. Near the end of high school, I reached a point where I either had to give up or get help. Too exhausted to continue, I finally realized that life did not have to be such a struggle.
I collapsed one day in drama class, my body too exhausted to continue with the strict regime I had it on. I tried to laugh it off but ended up running down the hall to the counsellor's office in tears. I cannot remember the conversation I had with her or what I said, but I left with a phone number in my hand to call for help. And I did.
Although there have been too many ups and downs to count, I would not have it any other way. Today my objective is to bring about awareness of eating disorders without focussing on what I ate or how much I weighed.
The extreme emotions I have always run away from, I now treasure deeply. I create art, not control by body. This is only the beginning and hope to touch many people along the way.
