Hey there! My name is Carrie, and I'm currently living in Arizona. Now, while I know you're just dyin' to hear my entire life story (uh huh, sure!), I'll just stick to the parts that apply to the purpose of this page, so here we go...
My seemingly "normal" life started taking a turn for the worse when I was around ten. Fun, friends, and childhood were somehow replaced by numbers, fear, and food... and ultimately a ferocious hate towards myself and my body, which I saw as continually betraying me and my ideals. There was no "big tramatic event" that occured which caused me to begin my journey of self-annihilation. I am not a victim of abuse, I do not come from a horrible family. Luckily, I have a supportive family, and absolutely amazing (very patient!) friends. In fact, as hard as it is to admit this, the development of my anorexia and bulimia was not even something that "just happened" as so many care to put it. Yes, it seemed that it "just happened" to grow out of control, however the beginnings were carefully and meticulously scripted by none other than myself. For months my locked diaries were filled with my desperate wishes to lose weight, to be thin, to become perfect. No time for the usual child's moments of truth; no secret crushes and so-on... that was for other girls. I myself was dangerously attracted to the prospect of being perfect, of being small, of being thin. I craved it while I continued to loath my personal situation; I was the tallest, always the one sticking out in the class pictures. Never shorter than anyone and I always thought of myself as a giant, which of course made me feel big in many ways. In my mind "tallest" was tied to "biggest" was tied to "fattest".
In seventh grade I decided to take things into my own hands and become proactive in my desire to shrink... but shrinking is for Alice in Wonderland, and Alice exists in fiction. Alice had her little adventure, and, for better or for worse, so did I.
In hindsight, I can see the numerous other issues that factored into my need to find alternative ways of coping with life. Eating disorders, when you get down to the roots, are not about weight. That is the surface issue, and the one to which nearly all time and energy are dedicated. The things which have already been described were definate factors in it. However, it was not my physical appearance and perceptions of myself alone which caused it. There were many other more important things which I am just recently discovering and working on that contributed to my eating disorders.
Little did I know that the little surprises that come along with a devotion to this monster that becomes us would become a horrifying reality seemingly without escape. It started out as bulimia, and after a couple years I began switching off between bulimia and anorexia, along with compulsive exercising and cutting. During my freshman year in college I bottomed out. Luckily I had the opportunity to go into in-patient treatment and got the jump-start I needed to begin my quest for recovery.
I am not "recovered" and there are still times that the very concept of recovery seems just out of reach, just beyond my grasp. I know, however, that I will someday be free of this. Over the past couple years I have made progress and continue to do so. It is a fight, it is hard, it is scary... but I have faith that it is worth it. Hopefully later on I'll be able to look back and say, "Yes recovery WAS worth it"... until I reach that point, I am continuing on in my quest for recovery.
~Carrie~
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