I was about 13 when I became bulimic. Being so young, I didn’t really know what it was, I just did it. I could eat anything I wanted, so long as I didn’t keep it in my body, it didn’t matter.
Sometime, in between that period, I developed hyperthyroidism at 15, that’s where your thyroid (which controls your metabolism among other things) goes crazy fast. A goiter developed on my neck. It wasn’t totally off-putting, but I figured as long as I was skinny, I could live with a weird neck. My doctor explained what was going on in my body, but the only thing I really paid any attention to, was all the weight I had lost or the weight I will lose through this problem. I thought to myself, quietly, that I was reaching my life long goal of being thin. Along with vomiting everything I ate, my thyroid was causing me to drop pounds left and right!
By my freshman year in high school, I was an absolute mess. I was withdrawn from my friends. In my mind, they didn’t understand the battle I was going through. One day I was studying with a group from a class in the library and they were sitting on the floor and I was lying on my back reading when one of them made the comment that I was so skinny they could see the floor underneath my back. I merely shrugged it off.
A few months later my best friend and I were taking pictures and she told me I had chicken arms! I told myself that she was just jealous of the fact that I was skinnier than she was.
My Junior year hit and I had a melt down. Rumors were going around school that I was anorexic. Suddenly, my achievement turned into a nightmare. I didn’t want to go to school, so I would make up some excuse to go home. My grades suffered, my friendships suffered, and my health suffered the most.
I finally broke down to my best friend and her mother (I was too embarrassed to tell my parents. I was worried what they would think of me) and I got help. To this day it is a constant struggle. I still get urges to vomit after I eat. I don’t think that part of my disease will ever be cured–but I do resist the urge–that’s something I can pat myself on the back for.