• It hit me the day I started to faint in a cooking class in highschool. I saw the black clouds coming in from around the edge of my eyes and my heart started beating in an arrhythmic pattern. "My hearts about to give out!!" I thought. I didnt want to pass out dead in front of my classmates. I ran over to my teacher and told her I was going to the nurse. Before she could say anything I ran out of the room and almost started to vomit in the hallway- but somehow held it down. I went into the clinic where the school nurse took my pulse and said that I had a simple PVC and my heart was returning to normal. she said I was working too much outside of school and my lack of sleep was causing my heart to beat irregularly.
    The reality was- I knew this was not true. But I took it anyways. I knew why. I suffered bulimia. I knew that I had been purging so much that my potassium levels had droped causing my heart muscle to weaken. It was a cruel reality but one that would not stop me from acting on my addiction- much like the way an alcoholic or a heroin addict suffer withdrawl.
    If you ever hear someone who is addicted to a substance, what they say is very similar. "I cant picture life any other way". "I love it, I hate it".
    Bulimia was always there when no one else was. It wasnt about weight loss. I never looked at someone who was fat and thought about how disgusting they were. I was the only disgusting individual on the planet in my mind. Even the days I felt beautiful I still purged- it was about control. It was one thing I loved, it was one thing I hated.
    That summer was the best summer of my life. I met a lot of new friends and was out of the house 24/7 with them. I felt complete but it was like living a double reality. I was truely happy and fasting and purging was that little extra I did on the side... daily...
    I would leave for a moment for a "bathroom break" and come back just as happy as I was 5 minutes before. Only I would feel relieved. What was I affraid of? even now I can not answer that.
    Around the end of the summer I finally confessed when I realised I was getting out of control. People noticed as my disease progressed that I was losing weight. A very unnecessary amount of weight. This pattern of behavior has been going on for 3 and a half years. but never did I feel it had more control over me than I had of it. The thought it owned me was still not enough to convince me to stop. I told a respectable adult, someone who was intelligent and experienced with these issues. As much as she expressed her concern and love for me, it was still not enough to make me stop. I was 18 at the time and she knew my decisions were my own at this point.
    That autumn things took even more of a nose dive. I ended up having a 18.0 BMI- where as undeweight qualifies as a 18.5. I was in a college class that was killing me and I felt so discouraged that I was purging 3 to 5 times a day. I would starve for over 24 hours, with nothing to even drink but water. And then when I did eat, I would get so violent with myself I would vomit blood. My college biology teacher met an hour early for class almost every saturday to help a few others and I study for tests. She made a comment about how frail I was getting to be and lectured me on "ideal weight" and "dont even get her started on the media". She said she looked up anorexia once and said that when she saw the pictures of people with anorexia, she recognized all those pictures. She said she recognized them from when she saw all the Jewish prisoners get let out of the death camps from world war II. What a powerful statement that was... because its true. But even so, it was an addiction and not much could make me stop.
    Here it is winter and I'm still fighting to win. I guess my message to you girls and boys are, you are not alone. and if you can get help. dont end up this way.