Today is a big day for me. I can talk about it to people I trust since a couple of years now, but I’m ready to speak about it, to be vulnerable with you guys. I think that if someone had told me that kind of story when I was ill, it would have helped me a lot. It would have given me hope to recover.
So there it is, I struggled with anorexia nervosa for several years. I will always remember the moment I decided I would be in complete control of my body. It was the first day of spring break. I stayed at home the whole week eating nothing but apples: that month I lost 17 pounds. At school, people were asking me how I did it and telling how «good» I looked. It felt so good. I felt like I had a superpower: I was able to do what everybody was struggling with without any problem - losing weight. It was sort of a game to me. At the end of the day, if I had resist eating, I was a champion. I told myself I would stop when I would feel my body was perfect, but it never happened. I was addicted to it, like a drug. I lost 40 pounds in the months that followed. At the worst of the illness, I had to stop playing soccer (which I loved so much) cause I was too weak. I wasn’t able to sleep at night cause I could only hear my heartbeat. Each night, I was wondering if I would wake up the next morning. I became the best liar in town (which is a behavioral symptom of this illness). I still don't understand how I did it, but even if my parents were concerned and noticing my dramatic weight loss, I convinced them everything was ok. I remember that my mom brought me to the doctor and he asked her to leave the room to talk to me alone. I was so persuasive that he believed me too and he told my mom I wasn't sick. She stopped worrying at this moment, she trusted him and me. Deep down, I wanted help. I wanted people to just force me to stop destroying myself, but there was always that little voice telling me to keep going. That voice was killing me softly.
My friends never confronted me about it and I would have done the same thing because we were way too young to talk about that kind of stuff. And one day, someone told me it was over. I'll never forget that day. I felt lost, mad, but I also felt relieved. I was in French class and someone asked to see me in the principal's office. I entered the room and the school nurse was there waiting for me with a concerned look. She knew me, even if I tought she did not. She told me teachers were reaching out to her every day since months telling her they were worried about me. I started explaining my usual speech but she didn't want to listen. She took her stethoscope and put it on my chest to check my heartbeat. I couldn't do anything, I felt trapped. She then told me my heart rate was too low and that I had to go to the hospital. That day, she changed my life for the better. I hated her for years, but today I can say that this nurse saved my life. I'm so grateful she's been put on my way...
(Part 2 next week)
