I used to be one of those people who believed that what did not kill you made you stronger. I thought that I was invincible and could control anything and everything. Boy, was I naïve. I thought I had control when I was completely out of control.

  One could say that I had the perfect life with two happily married parents and the ability to receive an education at one of the most expensive private schools in the state of Florida. I was one of the top swimmers on the swim team and one of the best dancers with great promise to be in the advanced class at the age of 11. I was the best in other people's eyes; but I was not happy.

Instead of feeling like a winner, I felt like a loser. Puberty hit hard and instead of seeing that tall, long legged brunette, I saw a fat, ugly, short and mousy looking thing. I no longer had control over my life, and I felt as if I had to have it back. I was desperate and only the 6th grade.

One day during science class, my science teacher showed a video on eating disorders. I guess I was not in the right frame of mind, for instead of getting a negative message about eating disorders, I received a positive one. If that girl in the video could lose five pounds in one week, why couldn't I? It started out harmlessly, an apple for breakfast and smaller lunches and dinners. Then it became 2 apples a day, a lunch, and no dinner. My friends started to notice my rapid weight loss and started to worry. I didn't mind their concerns and just told them that my mother was away from home. I was seeing results, but I wanted more. I had no idea just how far I would go to reshape my body.

I began throwing up once a week to clean my system. It seemed so easy. I started to see rapid results. Guys paid more attention to me and I loved it. So I started to throw up once a day and continued until it became five times a day. By this point, vomiting became so natural that I did not even have to stick my fingers down my throat anymore. I felt as if I was completely in control, but in reality I was in a rut. I had a ton of aggression; I blamed my parents for my unhappiness. My parents had major concerns about the drastic change in my behavior. They had no idea about the eating disorder at this point because I was a closet case. I started to dress in provocative outfits because I craved the attention from guys. My parents decided to send me to a therapist, but for me therapy turned out to be a joke. It ended up becoming a safe haven for me to yell at my parents.

My mother thought I needed a break, so she sent me to Connecticut to spend some time with a cousin who had just graduated from high school. I was fifteen and still throwing mostly everything that I ate. I was really sick, but I was too concerned with my body image to notice. When I was in Connecticut, I did nothing but party and consume large amounts of alcohol. I had been introduced to alcohol before, but never to this extent.

By the end of two weeks, I had obtained large amounts of alcohol and cigarettes. I was in the most depressed state yet. One party that I can recall, I woke up in the forest without a top on. There were bodies everywhere! As it was, I had one guy's head laying on my stomach and another guy's hand on my leg. All I wanted to do was forget everything that happened. I returned home to Florida and made my best attempt to forget. However, when I returned home I was in even worse shape. I had a lot of pain in my lower back and stomach regions. I thought that it was another Urinary Tract Infection, so I tried to wait and see if some leftover antibiotics from my other case would take care of it. The pain continued and I could barely move. At this point, I told my mother and she rushed me to the hospital. At the hospital, I was checked out and told that it was my kidneys and if I had not come in when I did, I would have lost one or both of my kidneys"

After an experience like that, one would think that I would have come to my senses. But, I did not. I was more depressed and more out of control than ever. I hated my family, my life and mostly myself. I wanted it all to end. I wanted to escape from all problems. One night the answer just came to me; I took a steak knife to my wrists. I remember the clock showing 1:00 am. Tears were pouring down my face. I had finally lost all control. I began to cut deeply into my skin on one wrist and then I continued to the other. I knew that with one more cut I would hit the right nerve. I remember the blood. It was everywhere. I knew at that point that I needed help. If it was not for a late night call to my best friend, I would be dead. That was my wake up call.

It has been a year now, and I still fight myself from throwing up again. Unfortunately, I will have to fight this battle for the rest of my life. My kidneys are still damaged and I have permanent scars on my wrists. But what hurts the most is the fact that I have no memories from middle school and early high school. My life has proven to be nothing but a struggle, but I am not ashamed of myself. In fact, these experiences have made me the strong and confident person I am today. I am now ready to live my life.