Finding Myself

by Nikki
(Racine, WI)

It all started when I was 11. I stopped eating and I started purging. This cycle happened for the next 11 years; sometimes I was 'better' other times I was near death. Constantly unhappy, but unable to find a solution or an identity, my parents struggled even more to find a solution and to not lose their daughter.

At the time, I did not want to be forced into eating disorder treatment centers to deal with the bulimia nervosa, but I was. Therapist after therapist, medication after medication, hospitalization, constant supervision, constant lack of privacy. This intrusion on my autonomy left me with a hatred for the only system that could save me.

As I grew older, my parents sort of gave up. They knew there was a problem and would likely step in if I was gravely ill, but they let me find my own way out.

Years of succumbing to this deadly disorder, I realized that while I didn't need to get help to appease my family, I needed to get help because I was miserable. Even as 'accomplished' as I felt with my disorder; even as much as it gave me a 'friend' and an identity, I realized how miserable I was. My life resolved around the very thing that would kill me, the very thing that made me miserable.

I started therapy again, by myself, by my own choice. My parents didn't even know I was seeing someone. It took multiple therapists and attempts, and breaks and the loving support of my fiance, but here I sit: three years in recovery and starting to move on with my life.

As odd as it sounds, the biggest benefit beyond my fiance and dedication was dance classes. I have gained so much confidence and love for myself. I have even done my makeup and dressed up a few times. I am becoming proud of who I am, instead of making excuses.