A friend of mine that I went to middle school with recently posted these pictures of me on Facebook. I saw them on my news feed, and was puzzled. "This girl looks like me. Is this me?" I was shocked, and I was angry. A load of emotions and bad memories suddenly re-surfaced. I was reminded of my painful childhood, and the eating disorder that I had developed. These pictures were taken in my 8th grade shop class. I was 13 years young. I wore a size 00 jeans. I'm not sure how much I weighed, but I know it was less than 100 lbs. I thought long and hard, and discovered that my ED began sometime during the year after my father passed away. It all began when I decided to steal diet pills from my older sister. Stacker 3. I don't even know how long I took them for, but it was often. I remember being SO jittery and full of energy. I remember not eating my dinner because I was not hungry, and I would stay up late in my bedroom doing sit ups, and writing in my journal, etc. I had no idea what an eating disorder was, but this is where it all began. I even remember one particular soft ball game, where I could not for the life of me hit the ball. My body would not perform the way it usually did. I'll never forget the comment I recieved from a boy in my class. "What does your mom feed you? TV dinners?" I wasn't hurt by this... I may have even been happy that someone noticed I was getting skinnier. I was no longer called by my 6th grade nickname, chipmunk. My chubby cheeks were gone. I was not chubby anywhere. For the next year, my life continued to be difficult. Very difficult. Soon after my 15th birthday, I could no longer live with my mother. She was addictied to cocaine, and could no longer "take care" of me. Not like I was properly taken care of before that anyways. I spent most of my time at my best friend Deidra's house. Her mom and dad were so kind and generous enough to take legal custody of me so that I wasn't taken away to foster care. I was fortunately able to continue going to the same school, stay involved in softball, dance, and cheerleading. I also was able keep my friends. It was still hard for me though. It wasn't
my family. Because my life had been turned upside down, my eating disorder developed even more. I think that I needed to be in control somehow, or to have
something perfect. Like myself. No wonder I was so good at the sports I played. It was my outlet. My way to forget about what was going wrong in my life. I was a great softball player, a really good dancer, and a wonderful cheerleader. When I first tried out for cheerleading in 8th grade, I had the 3rd highest score out of at least 75 girls. Anyway, sometime after moving in with Deidra, I became bulimic. I have no clue why I even started. Who knows where I even heard about it. It got so out of hand that I began to throw up in plastic grocery bags upstairs where I was away from everyone. I would tie those bags up, and leave them in a bin underneath the bed until it was safe for me to take them outside, and put them in the trash. After a year, I moved in with my new best friend, Samantha. I won't go in to much more detail here, but my bulimia continued. I started my first job at a McDonalds. I remember binge eating at work, and then going into the bathroom to throw up because my stomach hurt. I was so used to throwing up that I didn't even make any noise. It was fast, easy, and I always felt better afterward. My stomach would hurt so bad after eating, that I really just threw up because it relieved the pain. Obviously my body was suffering. This was taking a toll on my emotions as well. I remember one night at work after doing my usual binge and purge, I just broke down and cried, all alone in the bathroom. I knew i had to stop doing this to myself. So I did. For a while. In the meantime I met a guy. I was looking for someone to love me. I had no father, I had no mother, and I lived with a family that wasn't my own. I'm pretty sure I was desperate. That's it. Things continued to go downhill, and I ended up moving to Missouri with my mom. I
just finished my junior year in high school. I was absolutely devastated. I did not want to leave my friends, I did not want to miss my senior year of cheerleading, and I did not want to leave the guy who I was infatuated with. I had no choice whatsoever. My mom and I made the long, grueling drive to Missouri. The day we arrived was my 17th birthday. That night I found out I was pregnant. My "boyfriend" and I soon broke up, and it also turns out that I was living in a meth house. My mom was spending whatever money I recieved from social security from my dads death, on drugs. There was no food. I lost more weight and got down to only 113 lbs. So here I was 17 and pregnant, in a horrible situation that I was stuck in. Or at least I thought. The missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints happened to live right next door to where I was living. They be-friended me, and taught me about the gospel of Jesus Christ. I wanted to learn more. I ended up joining the church three months later. This is where my life really changed. I learned that I have value. I learned that I am a daughter of God. I had no idea how my life was going to become so
happy, and
fulfilling, but I knew it was the right path to take. I was taken in by a family I became friends with, and was out of the meth house. Long story short: I completely accepted the gospel. I fully immersed myself in studying the scriptures, participating in church, and developing a rock solid testimony. Heavenly Father blessed me in so many ways, I could not even begin to share all of it. I had my son, and knew that somehow everything would be okay. I was able to finish highschool, and even get into college. I went to school to become a respiratory thereapist. I met my future husband at the singles branch soon after I turned 18. My son was 4 months old at the time we met. We dated on and off for the next year and a half, fell madly in love with each other, and decided to get married. I finished my Respiratory Therapy program, passed my boards, and got married in the temple 3 months after our engagement. Our son was 3 months shy of two years old when we got married. For the next year we saved up the money, and did everything we needed to do in order for my husband to adopt him. The adoption was final a little over a year after we were married, and then we soon took him to the temple to be sealed to us. It was an amazing day that I will never forget. I was 8 months pregnant with our daughter at the time. So here I am today. I am a 24 year old stay at home mom to two wonderful children. Our son is 6 and our daughter is 3. My husband and I just celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary two months ago. Life is not perfect, because it isn't for anyone, but we sure are happy. Our love is so strong, and I am fully aware of how blessed I am. I am a very grateful woman. I could not imagine what my life would be like now if I had not moved in next door to the missionaries. I am still teaching myself how to have a healthy relaionship with food, and how to not let my insecurities get the best of me. I have to try very hard sometimes to avoid over eating. I love food! I love learning about how to be healthy, and how to take care of my body. I especially love to cook, and try new things. I want to set a good example for my children. Especially for our daughter. I don't
ever want her to go through the things I did as a young girl. To anyone who is reading this who might be suffering from an eating disorder, I have one thing I want you to do. Learn to love yourself. Please. You are worth it. You have great potential. Don't hurt yourself because of the hurtful things going on in your life. Find someone, like a counselor, that you can talk to. I wish that I would have asked for help. I wish that someone would have had the courage to take me aside and ask me if things were ok. I hope that you will be brave enough to take that step!
Love,
Laura
