I have changed both physically and mentally throughout the almost twenty years of my life. I learned to grow and sometimes even laugh at some of the mistakes I have made. I can laugh at a mistake, but also be caught up in it and overthink it. I was an odd kid in middle school, I'll admit it. After I did something stupid for attention, when I was thirteen, I instantly regretted it. People would talk about me and what I did, but they didn't know that I really regretted it. I couldn't control what they were saying about me, but there was something that I could control. That is when my eating disorder and obsession with my weight developed. I became bulimic, which is when one overeats then finds a way to purge it out. I am not going to say what I did because I used to look for ideas to lose weight no matter how and don't want to give any ideas. It started out slow from doing it once every two weeks then once I noticed that I was actually gaining weight, I did it more. When I was fourteen I would at least do it once a week sometimes a few days in a row because I noticed myself gaining weight, doing the opposite of what I wanted. I started to weigh myself everyday, keep track, and hope that what I was doing will finally lose weight. I didn't know what I was doing was that bad and I thought everyone was just as obsessed with their weight as I was. I must have thought this because I started follow very dark social media accounts. These accounts would post very unhealthy and dark thoughts like how to kill yourself, that you will never be loved, how to self harm, and how weight determined your worth. These thoughts filled my head at the same time I was harming myself with my bulimia. I knew I didn't want to end my life, but it was in the back of my head and at the time I guess I was happy know how to do it 'just in case'.

All of my eighth grade year, I would harm myself with my eating disorder and it led to my first, of many to come, panic attack. I was in the cafeteria and I was overthinking why am I eating this, should I be eating this? I started to feel absolutely terrible, my stomach hurt, I felt nauseous, and I didn't know what was happening. I started to walk to the nurses office and on my way there I felt like I was going to pass out. I made it to the office where the nurse's office was and on my way there I was even told, 'you don't look so good'. When I made it into the office I was falling sideways and gliding on the wall. I made it to the nurse's office and I was sent home. Luckily, that was my last panic attack in middle school, I graduated and was happy to start high school, to start over.

Over the summer of going into high school, my bulimia started to slow down, I wouldn't do it as much, but I still did it. I also stopped looking at those dark social media accounts, but I still had the ideas and thoughts in the back of my head. One day in early July I got bad food poisoning and after that I became afraid. I was afraid to eat and started to only eat one meal a day. Sometimes I would even go a day or two without eating anything because I was afraid of getting sick and gaining weight.

I was excited to start high school in August, but at the same time I was scared. I was excited to start over, but I was afraid that people would bring up my past. I was constantly thinking about it. I started to get panic attacks. My next one was on my birthday, in July, and I spent the day in the bathroom because of my panic attack. For the the rest of the months of July and August, I wouldn't eat that much and would get panic attacks. Anytime food would come my way I would feel nauseous and full and couldn't eat.. When I finally did start high school, I had panic attacks daily. Everyday when my parents drove me to school I would start breathing heavy, my stomach hurt, and I became nauseous. I couldn't control it, but I really wish I could. For months this went on, I still didn't eat that much and I couldn't eat in front of people. I lost forty pounds within two months from barely eating and being afraid of eating. Sometimes I would even overthink in class, which would lead to the start of a panic attack and stomach pains so went to the nurse. I didn't know at the time that it was anxiety and panic attacks. I was sent to multiple doctors and even had my blood drawn twice because of my stomach issues, they didn't know what was wrong. It took awhile to figure out that it was anxiety. I was put on fluoxetine, an anti-anxiety medication, it took time to work. Overtime my panic attacks and stomach pains slowly went away. I was starting to be healthy again. I was still afraid to eat every now and then, but I would actually eat and I wouldn't go back to my eating habits I had the year prior, my bulimia.

After I was on my medication for a few months, I was finally healthy. I was eating meals and even exercising. My obsession with my weight was in the back of my head, but I was actually happy because I was happy. That stopped halfway through my sophomore year of high school because I weighed myself. I noticed I gained some weight and I was not happy about it. I started to get really depressed thinking I was going to the person I used to be. I became obsessed with my weight again and started falling back into my eating habits of binging and purging. I would weigh myself often and even measure myself too. I would keep track in hope that I was losing weight. Even though I fell back into my eating disorder, I was more depressed over anything. I started to think of the dark post I used to read, how unworthy I was, and how I would be better off dead. I started lashing out at people around me because I was mad at myself for being this way, which would make me more depressed. I didn't want to live anymore. I know it is selfish thing to do, but it is very hard to get the idea out of your head. I came close to trying to taking my own life a few times, but didn't fall through. I knew I didn't want to live but I was to afraid to die. There was one day where I decided that the world would be better off without me and tried to end my life. At the time my brother's dog was at the house and I remember hearing her outside the door. I was crying my eyes out about to actually end my life, but when I heard her outside the door and knew it was a sign. For most of my life Catholic faith has been shoved on me and I thought for the longest time, if God were real why would he make me feel this way? After that I knew it was a sign from God that I should be here. Currently I am a christian, I'll be honest, not a very active one, but I am one because God wanted me alive. Sady, the dog, is and will be my best friend. I thank her for being there at the right time, sounds cheesy, but without her being there I would have fell through with suicide and wouldn't be here. My story wasn't over.

After my attempt towards the end of my sophomore year, I still was very depressed for months after, but I knew I had something to live for. I was still binging and purging and weighing and measuring myself. I was still lashing out at people around me early my junior year of high school. My depression went down after a junior retreat my school has every year, it meant a lot to me because it was the first time I actually opened up. All of my life I remained a closed book and kept everything to myself. After the retreat, I wasn't as depressed, but my bulimia continued. That was something I didn't open up about, at the time I didn't know that it was that much of a problem, but deep down I knew something wasn't right about it so I kept it to myself.

For the next years all the way to my summer until college, my anxiety and depression was barely there, but I still continued with my bulimia. It wasn't until I go to college that I stopped. I went to college where I knew no one from home went to, I think it was something I needed. I had a chance to start over. I still had thoughts about my weight and what I was going to eat next, but I didn't relapse with my bulimia. After the first few months away at school I realized that my habits with food were unhealthy. No one around me seemed to be obsessing with food the way that I was. That was when I decided to go to the free therapy my school offers. Turns out for the past six years I had an eating disorder, deep down I guess I knew, but it took my this long to realize it. I started researching eating disorders and it all made sense. I called my brother and I told my close friends. They told me that it made sense and they would be there for me. The month I found out I got a tattoo of a song that relates to how I felt, Warrior by Demi Lovato, in a place where I spent most of life hating and grew to love.

I just finished my first year of college and didn't relapse with my eating disorder and that is something I am proud of. I get tempted of course and get thoughts on food all the time, but I know that there are people out there to support me. Everyone does have people to support them and help them through tough times, but they don't know it. I am one of those people that hates asking for help so I understand people who don't want help, but it's not something to be ashamed of. I have always been afraid of people knowing my problems because I'm afraid they wouldn't want to be associated with me anymore. I am still afraid of that, but at the same time if someone does do that then they deserve to be out of your life because you deserve better. It's hard to stop overthinking about something, but life is so much better if you just live it. Mental health is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has a different story and journey to recovery. Everyone has a story and its never over.