I do not write this in sympathy. I do not write this for attention. I do not write this pity. I do not write this for those who speculated. I write this because everyone deserves to be happy. I write this to educate. I write this because I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I write this for awareness. I write this for those struggling. I write this for me.

Most people assume it’s a phase, that it’s a choice and with time you will grow out of it. They are wrong. I know what it’s like to be more focused on the curve of your arms than your friends. More focused on the thinness of your thighs than your grades. I know what it’s like to see a size zero and think that it’s too big.

Having an eating disorder made me compare my self to every girl I saw each day. Having an eating disorder made me concentrate more on the apple I ate for breakfast instead of math class. Having an eating disorder made me weight obsessed.Having an eating disorder made me skip breakfast so I could “afford” dinner.

My eating disorder made me feel safe, made me feel in control especially in times when my life seemed so unpredictable. You may have heard it before but its not all about wanting to be skinny. The issues lie deeper, in self esteem, control, perfectionism. I couldn’t live with it, but I couldn’t figure out how to live without it.

If you asked me 6 years ago where I would be today my answer would be nowhere near close to where I am now. I came from a normal family. A family full of love, of support, of laughter, of food, of fun, of happiness. My eating disorder tore that family apart.

I write this as an apology, to the pain I caused my parents, my friends, but most importantly, myself. I write this because living in fear isn’t living. I write this because you’re only as sick as your secrets.

I thought it would stop after I reached my first goal weight, but once I hit it, I wasn’t able to stop. I had to keep going. I felt that I could not survive otherwise. I would tell myself tomorrow I will start recovery, but tomorrow would get extended until I forgot about recovery.

Over the years my parents watched me fall apart right in front of them. Slowly, their little girl was disappearing and it was out of their control. It didn’t matter how many times I heard “I love you” or “you’re beautiful”, I trusted my eating disorder more. They witnessed me become someone they didn’t recognize and it broke them. The sad thing is, I knew it was, yet I couldn’t seem to let go out. It gave me this unexplainable feeling. Unless you have experienced the attachment that comes with an eating disorder you simply can’t understand the intensity.

My entire life all I wanted to do was make them proud. I strived to be the best student, the top equestrian, the perfect daughter, determined to not disappoint. Yet with every meal skipped, I saw the disappointment on their face.

I became mean, bitter and stubborn to anyone who tried to help me, infuriated that they were interfering with the "control" I had in my life. I resented my friends who expressed concern. I watched the pain in my dad’s eyes as he sat there and thought there was something he could do to have stopped this from happening from me. I heard my mom’s heartbreak every time she tried to tell me what I was doing to myself. They felt as if they had failed at something. As if, it was their fault I had developed such a gripping, and horrible disease. That could not be further from the truth. And it brought such pain to me knowing they thought that. No parent wants to see their child in pain or have a child who doesn’t love themselves.

Having an eating disorder meant dropping 25 pounds and still not feeling good enough. Having an eating disorder meant tearing myself apart until there was nothing left. Having an eating disorder meant spending 15 minutes hating myself in the mirror. Having an eating disorder meant weighing myself twice a day. Having an eating disorder meant leaving college instead of going to it.

I lost the ability to focus in school. I lost the trust of my family. I lost being a top equestrian for being no equestrian. I gave up college out of fear. I replaced true friends with fake ones

People romanticized my will power. People didn’t understand that every promise my eating disorder made me was broken. I lost my ability to be spontaneous, my days became micromanaged. Everything revolved around meals, when I would eat, when I would excerise.

It didn’t matter how much I changed on the outside, I couldn’t change the inside. I couldn’t change the way I felt or the thoughts I had about myself. You can’t decide to be anorexic. You can’t decide to stop being anorexic. I can’t count the tears shed or the number of fights fought over my eating disorder.

They told me I had a choice. They told me recovery was possible. They told me recovery would save my life.

I was addicted to the process I created myself. Caught in this destructive revolving door cycle that was my life. My eating disorder was my own worst best friend. My thoughts were consumed by numbers. I lived out of fear, of insecurity, of judgment. Having an eating disorder made me count the calories instead of the memories.

As much as I wanted to let it go, I was afraid to live without it. My eating disorder had been there through so much. My life that was once rich and fulfilling was now empty and lonely. I was existing, not living.

I may have been cold. Been tired. Been hungry. But the sad truth was, no matter how miserable I felt I convinced myself I was happy. That being skin and bones was good skinny. My anorexic stricken brain, controlled every thought. And there would sadly never be too skinny. In my eyes there was no perfect. Every time I thought I had achieved it, the benchmark moved further.

I was in a loosing battle with myself. I was numb. I was no longer me. The smile was no longer genuine. The laugh was no longer rewarding. My parents were no longer the ones I strived to please, my eating disorder was.

I thought I was happy. The very sick satisfaction I got from being hungry. The pat on the back I got from eating less than the person next to me. The pride I felt for my level of self control. My drive for perfection led me to believe more was always better. I pushed myself beyond appropriate limits. My life was restricted to my weight and calories.

Stepping on the scale would determine how my day went. It determined my food intake. It determined my mood. It determined my self worth. I woke up each day determined that I would feel better. That today was the day enough would be enough. That I didn’t need to loose any more weight. That I was finally good enough. That I would finally feel accepted. I waited day after day. I believed the only way to feel complete was to be skinnier.

It was engrained in my brain that being skinner would lead me to the life I dreamt, to more friends, to more boys liking me, to liking myself more, to being a better person. I lived in fear of even the smallest weight gain. But a time came when I no longer recognized my life. Home wasn’t the same. School wasn’t the same. Relationships and friendships weren’t the same. I wasn’t the same.

My family needed time to recover just as I did. I needed to be ready. There were days I wished I would just wake up and say “today is the day I am going to stop starving myself”. But it doesn’t work that way.

Having an eating disorder isn’t glamorous. It took patience for me to realize life was more important than the amount of calories in a cookie. It’s the sick jealousy of wanting to change yourself so much you will destroy yourself physically and mentally.

With time I decided to change who I was in the hopes of becoming the person I wanted to be. Some days are tougher than others. There are weeks when I restrict. There are months that I relapse. But each day I work to become less committed to my enemy and more committed to myself. To the person that I aspired to be. The person who doesn’t live life tied to the demands of an eating disorder.

When I let go of my eating disorder, I let go of my identity, I let go of who I thought I was for the past 21 years, I let go of what defined me. And with letting go, I miss what once brought me peace. I miss what has kept me together when everything else was falling apart. I miss the high of starvation like an alcoholic misses the numbness of a drink.

I write this because eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes. I write this because eating disorders don’t discriminate. I write this because eating disorders are more than what appears on the surface. I write this because I know what it’s like to suffer in silence. I write this for the people who think they’re alone. I write this because I want you to know you’re not.

It’s a disease. It’s not as simple as just eat more. Or why are you afraid to have a cheeseburger. It’s something so complex, that the only way to truly understand the intricacy is through experience. Through the years I came to finally learn and accept that I am not my eating disorder. That I am more than I once believed to be. That there is more to life then being the skinniest.

In reality, eating disorders aren’t just going a diet. They are life threatening. They are dark. They will never be enough.

I write this because nobody deserves to loose their passions, to loose their friends, to miss opportunities, to wake up anxious everyday and go to sleep scared. I write this because the scale doesn't determine your potential. I write this because nobody deserves to loose themselves over something as insignificant as your body.

I don’t hate my eating disorder; in fact, I thank it. I think it because without it I wouldn’t have been able to find my true self. Without it I wouldn’t know how magical life truly can be. Without it I wouldn't have been able to discover genuine happiness. Without it I would have never known what it feels like to experience validation, to know all that I am capable of.

Today, I have learned that overcoming an enemy so strong is possible. I have learned that perfection is not a destination. I have learned I am more than a number on the scale. More then the size of my jeans. More than my failures. More than a reflection in the mirror. I have learned there is more to life than I once thought possible.

I learned to trust it me. I learned to love me. I learned to be proud of me.

I write this because this is my story.