It was all a blur, a clouded vision as I stumbled and fell onto the hardwood floor. It

happened right outside the bathroom. It was cold, I was cold. It was hard to breathe and hard to

see with the tears in my eyes. My heart was beating hastily while my body was numb and

motionless as I lay still in silence. I was alone and more than terrified. I no longer paid attention

to the pain as the life in me was draining away. I knew this was all happening because of my

eating disorder. I was 12.

I’m such a happier person now. It’s strange to say but, I owe it all to my new love for

sports. The creation of it alone is amazing; it frees my soul and takes my mind away from all the

chaos life brings. Volleyball, in particular, gives me the opportunity to escape from actual reality,

somewhat like dreaming. The focus is on setting the ball perfectly or serving the ball over the net

and being the best athlete I could possibly be, and not on how much I eat. I guess I can say I’m a

bit on the healthier side now, but I still continue to have my ‘moments’ every now and then. It’s

hard to accept that even within the things that give you happiness, may lie something cynical

waiting to strike. A team mate on the volleyball team may tell me I look fat in my spandex

shorts, and that will definitely trigger me to purge once again.












When I was in 7th grade at Spring Valley Middle School, everything seemed perfect. The

school, the neighborhood, and definitely the people- or at least that’s what I thought. I always

had a hard time being the new kid at school, but everyone was exceptionally kind to me here.

That environmental perfection gave me a reason to be satisfied with myself and my life. It was

like a moment in time my existence in life seemed like it mattered. For someone like me to feel

accepted in this brand new school is mentally agonizing, after being excluded and bullied out of

my old one.




I never really understood why I was always ‘the chosen one’, the target, the one other

kids picked on. They teased me about everything they could possibly lay their eyes on, my hair,

my shoes, my eyes, my skin, and obviously my body. No matter how hard I tried to fit in, and to

belong, I would always get knocked down. I was sitting in my class, and some boys next to me pointed

at my bulging stomach and laughed amongst each other. I was just never good enough, pretty enough,

or fit enough and that’s where the self-hate began. Sixth grade at Auburn Heights Middle School was

like a living hell for me. As far as I can remember, I cried almost every single day because of all the

distress I was put through. It may sound crazy, but I even received a threatening call telling me to leave

the school, and if I didn’t, I would get shot. After that phone call, I just wanted to end my life forever,

but I didn’t.




I hated myself. Everything was wrong with me. I was bullied into believing I’m just this fat

ugly girl that doesn’t have a meaning on earth. I thought change was all I needed, but oh was I terribly

wrong. I carried the pain with me everywhere I went, but everything was masked. To everyone

else, I was just the happy new girl. To me, I was externally silent and internally suffering. I needed

a way to release all this anger and all this pain. My solution was the binge and purge method.








The first purge was quite painful, I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it right at first. It was after

dinner, my biggest meal and only meal of the day. I had convinced myself to do this for the better of

my life and forgot about all the consequences. I ran the bath water so my parents couldn’t hear. I was

bent over the toilet, with my fingers progressing further and further down my throat, blood rushing to

my face and tears filled my eyes. One portion after another forced to depart from my body, making me

feel empty and skinny again. It was uncomfortable, but a gratifying type of pain. Right after, I knew it

would be something I can get used to.




To this day, at 17 years old, it still pains me to think about my past. It’s only been a short 5

years, and so I can still remember everything very clearly. As I write this memoir, I still have tears

rolling down my cheeks while the thoughts of my dark past reoccur, the thoughts of starving

throughout the day and binging during dinner, the thoughts of being bullied and the thoughts of my

strong self-hate. I guess my scar didn’t fully heal yet, but tears don’t mean I’m losing. The ongoing

battle with bulimia was a full time job. It took over my life. I did terrible in school because all I focused

on was how much I ate and how much exercise I will get later. The mirror and food was my enemy

but my best friends at the same time. I had constant migraines and extreme mood swings. I isolated

myself from everyone; I just wanted everyone to leave me alone. Soon enough, my group of friends

started to get smaller and smaller, until I had no one left but myself. I guess that’s the price I had to pay

for my wrongdoing.













I’ve chosen to face this problem alone; because with other people being involved won’t

make it any better. Besides, I’m sort of a big girl now; I can deal with my own issues by myself. I don’t

want others to have pity on me. I’m no longer bulimic, but I still struggle. There are a few times I’ve

thought about purging, but didn’t. But there are also times I’ve thought about purging, and did. I

figured, every now and then I just need that type of relief. I guess that’s understandable right?







Often times I ask myself a lot of questions. Why can’t I be tan with gorgeous blue eyes? Why

can’t I be taller? Why can’t my breasts be bigger? Why can’t I be thinner? … Why can’t I just be

beautiful? It has been an ongoing uproar in my head. Yes I have a problem, I’ll admit. But I’m not

blind; I can clearly see all the imperfections that have been pointed out before. The most disappointing

feeling one may face is trying their best and giving it their all, but failing. The more I try, the less it’s

working. So why try at all anymore? Achieving perfection is just a battle I know I cannot win. So I’d

given up on trying to be ‘perfect’, whatever that looks like.





I am still not content with my life now, but it’s better than it has ever been. I am still seeking

for self-approval and self-love, but I know it won’t take too long to find those missing pieces to my

puzzle. Everything I’ve been through has built me into such a stronger woman today. I’m not the

strongest, but I guess strong is enough for me. My mentality has changed, about life, love, and health. I

am able to see life in a more beautiful and accepting way I couldn’t be able to see before. I have found

something I thought I wouldn’t be able to find before, love. My health is now my priority. I guess I can

also say within something negative, may lie something positive waiting to come about. Moreover, I no

longer want to achieve perfection in life, I just want to achieve victory in the battles I will face.