purpose

I'm a firm believer everyone has a purpose. As cliche as it is to say this, your voice, my voice can make such an impact. I love writing, and for so long I always have. So, after months of contemplating I finally caved. This will be my first post, so please.. take it easy on me aha. I chose to dedicate this blog to my long, long journey of recovering. So for starters; Back in June of this year, one night I felt an over whelming emotion to share my story and use it in a way that I never expected I would..

Little more background.. For many years, like I mentioned above, I was embarrassed by the fact that I was one of SO many girls that would say, "I have an eating disorder.. I'm bulimic." It was hard to say out loud, and even harder once I came to terms with what I was doing to myself. I went to a close friend about my problem; my eating disorder. I thought this friend was someone I could confide in. Little did I know, while sitting in my 7th grade creative writing class, that friend had told practically the whole grade. How did I find out? Another friend of mine, Chelsea, had asked during that class if it was true since she had heard from that friend of mine. I'm sure by just the look on my face I didn't need to say a word. Instead, I rushed out of the class into the bathroom, put myself in the stall and cried. What I considered a huge secret, was out. I thought this was someone I trusted, and I felt so betrayed in multiple ways. My family didn't even know.. How are people looking at me now? How long have people known? Who all knows? So many questions running through my head, and so little answers. To make the long story short, those two girls in that class, Kenadee and Chelsea, came in to calm me down and helped me get my crying ass off the floor. For weeks I was in the bathroom almost every class period upset. So vulnerable. I was drained, and I felt alone. It felt like everything was crashing down and I had no way to build it all back up. Shortly before the 7th grade ended, a girl named Ashlyn Goodwin knew something was going on and decided to take things into her own hands.

Ashlyn went to my school counselor so they were aware of what was going on. At the time I was angry, but to say the least.. Ashlyn saved my life in more ways than one. Of course, there were a list of names. I had to cut the names down to the people who were the actual problem and what the actual issue was, but I refused to say a word. I refused to let this get back to my parents and have them worry. That was my biggest fear through all this. 

After a full week of the counselor trying to get to the bottom of it, on that Friday after lunch, I blurted it out when she threatened to call my parents. I cried, "I make myself throw up." and she knew exactly what I meant. She calmed me down and explained to me that I needed to tell my parents before Monday, or else she would be the one breaking the news to them over the phone. I had no idea how I was going to do this, but I knew it was better if I did it myself rather than anyone else and explained to them how it got to this point. So that Sunday night, as they were upstairs getting ready for bed and I was in my room on the floor wondering for hours how I was gonna do it, I finally did. Over text message. I couldn't tell me parents outloud, I couldn't watch them blame themselves.  But as I heard my dads voice crack and echo down the stairs saying, "come here" I knew they would. As any parent would, they did. I tried my best to explain the situation, and they tried even harder to understand why. They were determined to get me the help I needed. To this day I remember the look in both their eyes as I walked up those stairs.. But I am forever grateful for those two. They got me the best doctors, and between all that they educated themselves the best they could. I didn't associate myself with that friend the entire end of my 7th grade year. I had just made the cheer team, as did the friend, but had to start realizing the situation was over for my sake and hers, because I was going to be around her the whole summer and following year. Going into that 8th grade was when I was diagnosed with bulimia. Eventually things died down, but the people still used it against me every chance they got. And I will never forget the things that were said. "Did you miss school because you had a sore throat from making yourself throw up so much?" Or "Go stick your finger down your throat some more." were hands down the worst ones in the book. I got comments like that too many times to count on a stupid little thing call 'Formspring', to my face, over the phone, etc. It was a constant uphill battle that I thought would never end. I learned so much about people during this time in my life, and although I still do, this was such an eye opener. True colors really showed; People stuck around that I never guessed would have, and to this day still have, and for that I am so grateful for. But of course, people also turned their back on me, those who I never would have expected.. 

Over time, it got a little easier. I moved away my summer going into 9th grade, and it would be an understatement to say that was the best thing that could have happened at that time. New people, new city. I basically had a fresh start. I met the most amazing people, gained the greatest friends that to this day I am proud to say I have in my life. For the most part, I was better. Making progress. I was learning what it was really doing to me, and what it could potentially do to me. I went from throwing up 5 times a day, to maybe 2 a week. Still bad, but to this day even with me being recovered it's still something you are always recovering from. Constant progress. Over the years, I got so much better. My Junior year of high school is when I consider myself recovered. As I stopped, I picked up another bad habit though. I started cutting. It was another way for me to cope and control what was going on in a different way.. Only a few months in my parents and brother found out from the scabs on my wrist. It was as if I was watching that day happen all over again. In that moment I decided to stop being selfish. This is no longer something that is only hurting me. I'm hurting my parents, my family, and friends that truly cared. I chose to no longer hurt myself or those around me. I chose to get help, again. I needed it. I could no longer live the way I was, and it was time for me to love myself and get better. 100% better.

I refused to let it become my weakness. With my amazing family and friends as my support system, a wonderful team of doctors, and my relationship with God, I was learning I wasn't alone. I'm not alone. You're not alone. As I write this, I know I'm still getting there. Day by day it is a struggle. But no longer do I self harm, no longer do I throw up. As much as it sucks to know those thoughts will always be in the back of my head, I have learned to not act on them. I am more powerful than my struggles. I also learned, yes, people can be mean. Yes, the teasing when I was in elementary school through middle school influenced my actions.. But I'm the one who made those my actions. No one sat myself in front of that toliet. I did. No one handed me scissors. I did. I am responsible for my actions. No one else.

The night before I put my story on facebook/instagram, letting others know of what had gone on other than family and close friends, I had this feeling that I finally knew my purpose. My voice, my struggle. Why not use it? My purpose is making this huge negative in my life into a positive by helping others going/gone through similar to what I did, because during that horrible time in my life I would have loved to hear someone other than a doctor tell me I'm not alone. I can change this whole thing around, I can beat the odds, and I did. I changed my health and my life around. I could have easily gave up either 10, 6, or 3 years ago, months or even weeks ago. I didn't. I knew I had a purpose; I trusted my struggle. As I've grown, I truly believe I've found my purpose all on my own by trusting my struggle. You can too.