Before you start reading this I want you to know that everything you are about to read is coming straight from my heart; completely raw and one hundred percent me. Thank you.

It's a long story, but it's my story and finding a starting place is hard so allow let me just give you the basics first.

I didn't grow up in the most conventional family. I have four older brothers, the oldest three from my dad's first marriage and the youngest one from one of my mom's past relationships. My parents where never married and I've never been bothered by that; it's become a very common thing in today's society. By the time I was born my brothers were fourteen, ten, nine, and seven. I bet you can image what that must have been like. I promise it's nothing what you think. You see I never lived with the three oldest ones. They lived three and a half hours away with their mom and another younger sister. I lived with my parents and the youngest brother until my parents split up when I was around the age of four or maybe five. Ever since I have spent a day a week with my dad and my weekends alternate. It hasn't been easy and when people hear that my parents aren't together I usually get a overly sympathetic look and something along the lines of "Wow you must be so strong for having gone through that". Truthfully when people say this it irritates me in way I'm not sure I can explain to you. So I say things like "Well I was young I really don't remember it". Or "Oh it's not that bad, I get two thanksgivings".

But even with all the things my parents did to make it easy there was still all the hard times. Financially speaking, both my parents struggled, although they tried hard to never let me see, I knew. I knew that I would never do majority of things I see the kids from my school doing (I go to a private Catholic high school) and honesty it hurt. My mom turned to couponing because it was an easy way for us to save money but it also would make sure we would have plenty of food and basic household items if we ever got desperate. And yes we got desperate. For exsample, one thing that has always stuck with me i still that we had four cats at one time, which we eventually had to give away because it came down to buying them food or buying us food. For as long as I can remember I've told myself I would go to college and I would do better because I want better for my kids. I want my kids to never have worry about if I'll have enough money to support them to go to any school or college of their choice. If there's anything in life I want more I want my kids to feel like they can ask for anything and their last worry would be me saying I don't have the money.

However financial problems were not the only problems I faced. Mentally I don't think I was ever in a good place. I'm good at hiding just exactly how I'm feeling, but my family and very - I do many very - few friends know my tells. I hold everything inside until it just piles over and suddenly the smallest thing, like someone being just a little sarcastic or looking in the fridge to see someone drank all the milk, will throw me on the war path. The number of nights I would cry myself to sleep because it felt the world was against me is way higher then the number the nights I simply just wouldn't sleep. I think the worst part is, I can never ever explain why I'm upset because a) it would take to long to explain and b) I don't want to burden people with my problems and then have them feel sorry for me like I'm some sort of charity case. By my sophomore year I had found a way to deal with it, but it wasn't a healthy way. I had started purging.

For a whole year my life was spent in fear that someone would smell the vomit on my breath and find out. I would google foods that would be easy to purge and not leave an acidic burn in my throat or on my hands. I would bring my lunches to school, which mainly consisted of salad and yogurt. I would avoid meat entirely if possible because it was the hardest to try to throw up. I remember showering after every meal, turning my music all the way up in hopes my family wouldn't hear and I wouldn't stop until my stomach felt like it was split in two. I don't remember having a meal I didn't purge after, even holidays I would make an excuse to be excused and wouldn't reappear for about ten or fifteen minutes. Yes I was aware of what I was putting my body though but I didn't care. By allowing myself to purge I was able to let emotions out, it had turned into a coping method so I would never have to talk about how I felt. It made me feel better. I thought I had complete control over my disorder, but I didn't. And I never will. I thought I could stop whenever I wanted, but in all truth it's only been two months since I last thought of purging. I can't tell you when my last time was; if I had to guess I'd say anywhere from six months to a year. And I supos that's a good thing.

It's funny to look back at this and wonder if anyone saw the signs. I say funny because it all happened sophomore year; I was a cheerleader, I made honor roll, I didn't have the stress of colleges yet, I was happy? I wasn't happy, I was living a life that I don't even remember. I'm not the girl was then, it's been two years but feels like a lifetime. I'm glad I'm not her anymore.

This wasn't some kind of ploy to get you to feel sorry for me or to make you feel like you missed something. I had to get this out, because it's been a weight that I can't carry anymore. My only hope out of this helps is that someone reading this who finds themselves in a similar situation can find the courage to tell someone before it gets it late.