The Battle

This story of my life is not intended to be uplifting or depressing; it just simply is the tale of my battle. Growing up with separated parents was difficult in and of itself. They split when I was two. My mother was, and still is, insane. We don’t have the normal “mother-daughter” relationship. But, what is normal?

Anyways, this story is not about my mother or my father, although they are leading players in my battle. My childhood was very tragic and basically sucked. By the time I was eleven, I was severely depressed and I decided that I should become “suicidal” and go to my first mental institution. It was a place that I would be safe from her. Twenty-days later, a comatose little girl walked out of that hospital never to be the same, and the battle for control would begin. I remember the day. I remember it was a fall afternoon in my dad’s kitchen with the white floors, white walls, white refrigerator … he said, “I wouldn’t eat that. You’re getting fluffy.” Fluffy! To this day, I despise that word. I became so damn determined at that point that things were going to change. (Side note: I was a healthy weight, hitting puberty, nowhere near fluffy.)

That following summer, I was grounded for eight months for yelling at my step mom; the binge began. I would turn off all the lights, sit on the kitchen floor, and eat everything I could, get sick, and return to the cold tile floor in the kitchen. I began reading proana sites and became lustful of their control and methods. Soon I was full fledge anorexic! Yah, I had accomplished so much in my little head, I was in control of what came in and what came out. No matter what my parents said, or did, I was in control. As the weight started dropping, the more powerful I became … the more obsessed I was. I would look in the mirror for hours sucking in, seeing all of my bones, caressing them, putting on clothing and loving the room I had in them. This all continued for the next four years.

When I was sixteen, I tried my new best friend, cocaine. Man, oh man, was this wonderful! I could never imagine having to eat again; I was never tired; always happy. It became my socializing tool. I could have friends and blame my thinness on the coke, and they never wanted to eat because they were doing it with me so I never had to worry about the awkward situation of “Do you want to go get something to eat.” This was the beginning a of serious downward spiral. I no longer had the choice of whether I wanted to eat; I couldn’t eat.