*WARNING* This is a possible trigger warning.

This is my story. My story with Anorexia Nervosa. My own experience with my demons.

To start my story off, I should tell you a little bit about myself. I am EmmaLee, and I am currently 18 years old. I have been struggling with an eating disorder for almost 8 years now. As a child, I was very outgoing, and I always was in the mood to discover new things such as, food, toys, people, and everything else this life has to offer. Sadly, that changed as I was getting older. I continued to be the spunky, warm, and unreserved girl that everyone knew and adored. Today, I am still that girl, but with a few life experiences under my belt. I still consider myself unreserved but to an extent. I definitely do not go out of my way to try new things, but if you keep reading, you'll soon learn why.

When I was 10 my grandfather passed away. He was my best friend, and the best grandfather any little girl could ever ask for. He would always read me stories, take me to get ice cream, but most of all, he loved me unconditionally.

This photo was taken when I was about 7 years old. My family and I traveled to the U.S. Virgin Islands; my other home away from home.

After my grandfather passed, I was lucky enough to be blessed with a beautiful cousin Maggie. Maggie is the best thing that happened to me in 2009. If only she was able to grow up knowing him, instead of hearing about him.

In that same year, 2009, I started sixth grade at Lake Ridge Middle School. It felt great to start somewhere fresh but it also was a hard 3 years in Middle School; something I wasn't prepared for. Life became hard.

I was overweight as a 11 year old in sixth grade. I weighed around 130 pounds, and I was only 5 feet tall approximately. I made friends, but I was bullied for my weight. I have always been bullied for my weight since 3rd grade. Being bullied became a normal thing for me. As sixth grade was coming to an end, I knew that in the year to follow, I would be having two major foot surgeries.

Fast forward to the foot surgery of my seventh grade year. I was friends with a girl, who will not be named, but she was best friend at the time, or so I thought. After my first surgery in December of 2010, I gained more weight. I started to get bullied even more. After the second surgery in 2011, I was 167 pounds. My so called best friend thought it would be okay to befriend me, and bully me. One day in English, we had gotten into a fight. She told me how ugly I was, and how me being a blonde made me stupid. Because that totally makes sense, right? The last thing she said to me that day was, "I can't believe this school is still standing with how much you weigh." Basically calling me an elephant, or fat for lack of better terms. That quote put me in a dark place that summer. I remember cutting for the first time in my bedroom, and not feeling the pain. It was almost like I was releasing the pain I had in my heart and letting it come out on me physically than having it hurt me mentally.

That summer, I told my Aunt what I had done, and showed her some of the scars. I also told her that I wasn't eating much because a little voice in my head was telling me not. That was a pivotal moment for me because she wasn't angry, she was just concerned and worried. I eventually told my mom the beginning of my eighth grade year that I had self harmed. She put me into therapy, and I went from there. I was then diagnosed with Anorexia, Major Depression, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, and Anxiety. My therapist and I never spoke about the eating, or my body issues. We stuck to the major depression and self harming because I made it apparent that I was "okay" with my body. In reality, I was suffering from barely eating. That year, I dropped down to 145, and started to run. I found that running made me feel great. I had this running high, and saw the difference in my body.

Fast forward to Freshman year of high school. The next two years were the worst years of my life. I was lucky enough to find a loving boyfriend at the time. He was sweet, and supportive, but didn't know much about the eating disorder. When I met him, I was 125 pounds. So if you do the math, from the middle of eighth grade to January of my freshman year, I had dropped 15 pounds. And that wasn't even the worst of it. During this time, I started an Instagram. This is where I tracked my weight loss progress, and had a group of "friends" who supported me, but also tried to help me. I met this girl on Instagram, who is still one my friends, and she was struggling just like me. We would text all the time, FaceTime, and show each other our progress. This was not healthy whatsoever. My freshman year also brought on new challenges with my mental health. I started running about 5-10 miles everyday, sometimes twice a day at the gym. I started to restrict more, and I lost the weight. My family didn't see my unhealthy habits; they only saw how "good" I looked.

The start of Sophomore year came around, and if I knew what I know now, I would have told myself to prepare for the worst year of my life. I began restricting so much that I would go a week without eating. I was running 10 miles twice a day, on no food, and barely any water. I was afraid of water. I thought that water would make me gain weight. When Homecoming came around, I was about 112 pounds. I barely remember that night. I remember being very unhappy with my body, but I couldn't do much to help that. As you can see in this picture, I couldn't just smile. It was faked. You can clearly see that I didn't have much fat on my arms, and you could see the ghostly look (even with makeup on) that the Anorexia gave me.

Most of my memories from this time period in my life are existent. I only remember important days, or events. One of these events was my One year anniversary with my boyfriend at the time. He expressed his concerns to me but I told him that I was okay, and that I was trying to not lose anymore weight. That was a lie. A big lie. Come February, I weighed in around 100 pounds. And as the month kept going, I weighed 92 pounds.

My parents found out from the school one day that I wasn't eating, and that people were becoming concerned for me. They all thought I was going to drop dead one day. This is a picture from when I found out I was 92 pounds.

As you can see, I had bags under my eyes, my cheekbones were sunken in, and I had no butt whatsoever. The sweater that I was wearing was covering my hip bones and my rib cage that was protruding from my body. I remember looking at this picture days later, and feeling so disgusted in myself. I thought I looked fat. I thought the saying that my "best friend" in seventh grade had said to me. I was ready to lose more weight.

Once my parents found out, I remember my dad coming home with salmon, and I told him that I had already eaten, which was a big lie. I hadn't eaten in days. He told me to come downstairs once dinner was ready, and I barely ate anything. For the next hour, I was force fed by my dad. It was not pleasant, but it happened.

I never went into a treatment center because my parents wanted me to stay in school, and they wanted me to try to recover on my own with my therapist that I had at the time. It worked, but only physically.

Fast forward to now. I am still struggling everyday with eating, but I make a conscious effort to eat everyday, NO MATTER WHAT. I do not have a therapist right now, but I am doing just fine without one.

What I learned so far in my life from my eating disorder is that everyday is going to be hard. Everyday you will wake up, and you might really hate your body, but you can't go back to bed, because there are things to be done. I go to a school where we need our bodies to be healthy, and if I was 92 pounds, I would not be. I am currently around 130 pounds, and no I am not happy, to tell you the truth, but I do love what my body can do for me. It allows me to work out at the gym, to dance at school, and to sing to my hearts' content. But the best thing that my body does for me is keep me alive. I now know that I need food to learn, and to grow. I know that my body needs the food to do what I am doing here in New York City.

If you are struggling with an eating disorder or know someone that is, please get help. Do not wait until it is too late. If you can't talk to someone that you trust, you can call the National Eating Disorder Association, and the call will be confidential. You can reach them at, 1-800-931-2237. You can also reach to me, or someone else you trust, and we will all be glad to help you. It is never too late to help yourself, or someone else.