When I was 15 I stopped eating. It was something that was easy to hide from my family. I never ate breakfast; my parents accepted the fact that I would rather sleep in. I survived by buying an item from a vending machine at lunch every day. That’s the only food I would allow myself to eat. I wasn’t home for dinner most nights due to sports and rehearsals for a musical I was in. I don’t remember what triggered it, but I decided I was too fat.

I was always so proud of being thinner than my best friends. I wasn’t the tallest, or the smartest, or the prettiest, but being the thinnest was achievable. However, I was the thinnest before I stopped eating. I had terrible self-esteem when I was in high school. Not eating certainly didn’t help my brain get any healthier. I’m still not sure what I thought being thinner would accomplish. Not eating left me dizzy and confused at times. I would convince myself I just needed some water. I drank water to combat the empty feeling in my stomach. I was elated if I kept my food intake under 500 calories a day. There was absolutely no logic behind my decisions.

I burned a lot of calories in a day, but it was never enough. I fell asleep hungry every night. My parents always made me eat when I was home for dinner, but I tried to keep the minimum amount of food on my plate possible. There were evenings when I would try to throw up, but I was never able to force myself. My stomach started to shrink and after awhile I couldn’t even eat a full plate of food.

I lost over 25 pounds in two months. Every pound I lost excited me, but it was never enough. I thought I needed to lose more. My parents noticed, of course. They commented on how thin I was whenever I was home. There was really nothing they could do, short of forcing food down my throat. It was too easy for me to give vague answers or brush their concerns off. I don’t think they ever imagined I wasn’t eating at school.

My sister was the person that really helped me though. She was always encouraging me to eat. I’m not sure she even knew I had an issue at the time, or if she did she never mentioned it to me. I spent a lot of time with my older sister. I looked up to her, really without even thinking about it. If she was eating, I was eating. I was conscious about keeping my portions smaller than hers, but it was still eating.

It took me a long time to talk to anyone about my anorexia. I’m still uncomfortable talking about it one-on-one with anyone. I deal with this problem every day. I have to remind myself to eat and squash the feelings of regret when I’m finished. My initial bounce-back took a lot of work. I’ve found a healthier balance now. I still probably don’t eat as much as I should, but I do try to eat if I’m hungry. I try my best to eat at least one meal a day. It may not seem like much, but even one full plate of food is a huge improvement. I’ve come a long way with the help of my sister and my best friends. I’m thankful I have such wonderful people in my life.