What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

I have struggled with a lot. I feel like they’re all sort of interconnected. I used to blame myself, my thought being that I was just weak. I would tell myself other people have been through so much worse, how can I be so depressed and anxious? But now I realize that it’s not that I was weak. Everyone responds to their traumas differently. I’ve realized how strong I am because honestly, I have been through so much, but I still keep pushing forward everyday, even when I really don’t want to.

I’ve struggled with disordered eating. I felt like I had no control over anything in my life, but starving myself and skipping meals was something I could control. It was never so much about my weight because I have been small my entire life. It was really about grasping onto the control it made me feel like I had. As I got older, starving myself became a way to physically harm myself because I just really felt like I deserved to suffer. That was something I struggled with on and off from middle school through college. There are still days where I unintentionally don’t eat because my body’s regular hunger signals are all over the place from years of disordered eating.

Another thing I have really struggled with is depression. I’ve had thoughts of suicide since I was probably in middle school. I was in middle school writing suicide notes and stuffing them in between my mattress and boxspring. I would plot and plan, but I never did anything. It wasn’t always that I actually wanted to die and be completely done. I just wanted to escape the situation I was in and that seemed like the only way. There are days I don’t want to get out of bed. There are days I want to just sleep. There are days I can’t stop crying throughout the day. I would literally be at work or in class with tears silently streaming down my face. The depression doesn’t come around as much as it used to, but I do still struggle. Despite what people might tell you, recovery isn’t linear. It’s okay to have good and bad days, it happens. Life can’t be like the fairytales, bad things happen and it’s okay to react to them.

Another thing I have had issues with is my anxiety. I don’t think I had ever really had full blow anxiety until I was in college, but that also might just be when I really recognized it for what it was. When I was in college, there was one drunken night when I made one of the worst decisions of my life. Someone offered me a pill (Red Bull, it was MDMA) and they told me it would make me happy (I was really depressed because my best friend had just attempted suicide and she had almost completed). Drunk me decided it was a great idea.

I had a horrible trip. I was screaming and throwing myself up the walls in a bed. By the end of the night my hair was in a giant knot from throwing myself around. It was after that night that I started to have issues with anxiety. Drugs like MDMA are meant to significantly spike serotonin, a chemical in the brain that’s makes you feel good. The issue is, after taking it, it depletes it and causes psychological effects. When the anxiety got really bad, I finally had to tell my mom what I did and she took me to a special naturopathic doctor where I ran tests to see how chemically imbalanced my brain was so I could take things to try and balance it out.

A few months after the incident, I had my first panic attack. I had no idea what it was, so naturally, I thought I was dying. Increased heart rate, extreme feeling of impending doom…I felt like if I stopped moving, I was going to die. I was convinced I was having a heart attack or something and that I was going to drop dead. I was at work and I eventually called my friend to get me from work and I wanted her to take me to the hospital, but she knew it was a panic attack and she was able to calm me down.

One of the things nobody tells you about anxiety is that it’s more than just feeling nervous. For me, it’s the physical symptoms that really get me because they really can be associated with real medical issues that might be life threatening. For me, my heart races, I get shortness of breath, my hands become numb, I feel nauseous, I get GI issues, I clench my teeth, and I’m sure there’s things I’m forgetting. And of course, these physical symptoms cause my anxiety to heighten. I would be in class or at work experiencing these symptoms and for people who don’t understand, it’s hard to be like hey I’m not okay and I can’t be here right now. One time I literally forced my doctor to give me an x-ray of my lungs because of the physical symptom shortness of breath. The x-ray came back and showed nothing was wrong and she suggested I see a therapist.

For a short period of time, I turned to substances to try and block everything out. It was a way to make myself numb. I wasn’t drinking and smoking just for fun. Honestly, a lot of the time I was doing it alone. I liked to drink or get high to the point where I was just a vegetable. I just didn’t want to feel anything. It was easier than being sober where my thoughts were running wild. This period didn’t last that long, and I’m sure my body thanks me for that. I chose to be completely sober a couple of years ago because I just knew having issues with depression and anxiety, I would try and turn to substances to try and make myself numb and I would take it too far.

At one point I started smoking cigarettes and to be completely honest it was another way of me just trying to harm myself. It’s horrible, but I was like I hope I get cancer and die a slow painful death. My reasoning? I felt like I deserved it. News flash, I don’t deserve it. Thankfully the cigarette smoking didn’t last long either.

At some point in college, I was getting really bad and I went to a therapist. I was barely functioning and it was effecting my school and work. I remember she diagnosed me with PTSD. I checked almost all of the boxes. I didn’t want to face it, and I stopped going to see her shortly after. Digging deep was bringing up stuff I didn’t want to remember and it was making me even worse emotionally to the point where I was crying what felt like 24/7.

Looking back now, I’m going to assume what she actually meant I had is CPTSD, not that that’s any better than just regular ole PTSD. Mine wasn’t from just one traumatic event, but from repeated trauma over YEARS. There are a lot of things that trigger me that don’t make sense to those around me because my brain was literally wired by trauma. I had to do a lot of things to try and protect myself growing up. It’s something I definitely try to work on, but there are so many things I have just buried deep down that a lot of my reactions to things that shouldn’t be issues are subconscious.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

When I was a freshman in college, my friend pushed me to go to CAPS (Counseling and Psychological Services) for therapy. I went in the spring semester and it worked. I figured I would be good to go for life, but man was I wrong.

I ended up going back my sophomore year, but I got a new intern. I felt like she was judging me (I was kind of spiraling and making just all around really bad decisions). I would tell her something, and I could just see in her face that she was thinking what is wrong with this girl. Honestly, it made me feel worse. I finished therapy through the semester and then I stopped thinking I was cured. Wrong again.

When I pulled myself out of school before the start of my junior year, I went to CAPS again and demanded they give me someone who wasn’t just an intern because I felt like I had way too many issues for the interns to help with. It was there that we decided I wouldn’t go to school that semester and one of the therapists there referred me to Sound Community in New London, CT to do a Dual Diagnosis Program.

The Dual Diagnosis was for people with substance abuse issues and mental health issues. It was a group therapy type thing. I was 20 at the time and I was the youngest one there. The adults loved me though, and there was one woman who told me I reminded her of her daughter. Another would draw me things. We were taught coping skills and just overall educated. We had worksheets and we did projects. I really learned a lot while I was there. I graduated the program sometime in October and I went into individual therapy with one of the people who led the group.

I absolutely loved my therapist I had been assigned. It felt like she really understood me. I was comfortable sharing everything and anything with her. She really helped me so much. I stopped seeing her when they made some changes and the group social workers couldn’t have individual clients anymore. We both agreed that I was ready and I was a lot better than when I first entered the program. Having a therapist you really connect with is SO IMPORTANT. If you don’t feel like you click with your therapist, absolutely try and look for another one because it will make a huge difference.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

I graduated from college in August of 2020, five years after starting college in Fall of 2015. I graduated with a degree in New Media Studies with a concentration in Integrated Communication Media.

When I was in college, I started a blog called https://combatinganxiety.com/ as my senior project, I feel that sharing my story is really important for people that are struggling. It’s nice to know that you’re not alone. I share my story to try and help end the stigma. Discussing mental health should not be a taboo.

I have been working for my mom’s blog since 2015 and I really like the work. This summer I took a food photography course and I now take photos for her recipe posts! It’s really cool getting to see my photos published on her site and her social media.

2020 was rough, but it gave me time to really do things I wanted to do (I had been working multiple jobs and going to school for years and the pandemic gave me a break from that life). I really got back into photography and it has been great for my mental health going out hiking with my camera. I’ve also become a bit of a crazy bird lady and I love sharing my bird photos with others who love them as much as I do!

My biggest accomplishment to date is becoming Turning Point CT’s newest team member. I am now their social media assistant! This is my first job I have taken since I have graduated and I am so happy to be a part of something and to help make a difference!

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

Well for one, you are NOT alone!

Second, recovery is by no means linear. You can’t expect to just be happy all the time and not depressed or anxious or struggling. You absolutely cannot beat yourself up if you’re having a hard time in your recovery. It just isn’t helpful to beat yourself up. Acknowledge those feelings and try and figure out why you’re feeling those things. Acknowledging those feelings is much better than just shoving everything down.

Third, there are so many resources out there! The internet makes access to information so easy. Social media is a great way to connect with others that may be going through similar things.

Lastly – Hang in there!

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

In high school, I struggled with body-image issues and restrictive eating habits. I was a Varsity Track Athlete and ran 6-7 times a week. I struggled with my self-worth because I thought I had to obtain an extremely thin frame in order to be liked more. I reached my lowest point around the time I turned 15 and was a size 00. At the time, I celebrated this, but my health quickly started deteriorating. For the rest of high school, I was able to put back on some more weight, but always worked myself too hard and didn’t eat enough. I struggled with whether I would ever feel ‘good enough’ and was scared of getting heavier.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

When my family noticed I was starting to pass out more and more, they became very concerned. My mom encouraged me to see food as fuel, and to try to avoid counting calories or trying fad diets. I could tell she was worried, and at first I did try to take better care of myself. However, I struggled with making healthy decisions, because I felt like I got positive attention from my peers when I looked skinnier. It took me until I got to college to stop tracking everything I ate, and to see exercise as a fun stress reliever rather than a daily chore.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

Freshman year of college, I tried so hard to stay in the same shape as I was in high school. I quickly learned that in order to do so, my life would have to revolve around meal prep and spending hours in the gym each day. By the end of that first year, I decided that enough was enough. Over time, I thought about how much happier I would be if I loved my body for how it is, and stopped punishing myself for not being thin enough. Things changed for the better once I made the decision to love myself and treat my body with more respect. What also helped were the more positive friendships I made while at school. Getting involved in different clubs and extra-curriculars, I began to see that I am liked for my character and personality…not for how much I weigh.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Today, there are still some moments where I find myself having negative thoughts about my body and worth. However, I know that self-love is something that can always be worked and improved upon, and I am so proud of how far I’ve come. I still love to eat healthy foods and go running/to the gym. The difference is that I now do this to feel good, rather than to try to constantly change my body. I no longer step on a scale or get discouraged when last year’s jeans won’t fit. I know that I matter, and what’s on the outside won’t change that. My goal is to lead a happy and fulfilling life, while getting the opportunity to make a positive impact on those around me.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

For those who may be struggling with a similar issue, know that it takes time. I didn’t wake up one day and automatically love myself. Over time, I realized my worth, and kept reminding myself of why my past habits were negatively affecting the way I get to enjoy my life. Challenge yourself every day to break harmful habits, even if you have to take baby steps. Seek support from family or friends you trust, and seek environments in which you feel comfortable and accepted.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

I have struggled with depression, social anxiety, self harm, suicidal idealization, emotional physical abuse, bullying, teen dating violence, and anorexia. It became too much when I turned 15. I was self harming, practicing unhealthy eating habits and and my current girlfriend was emotionally abusing me.(yes I am lesbian)I decided to give up. I attempted suicide. I was brought to the local ER. I was able to go home that night. The next day me and my mom got into a fight and she was very angry and said “I will throw you out of this car” and I stupidly said “do it”. That night I got taken to the ER again but that time i was there for 3 days in the crisis unit and was placed in an inpatient mental hospital. In there I attempted to kill myself again. Luckily the staff stopped it before I lost a lot of blood. A year later I am still recovering. I am 1 1/2 months clean.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

At first it was an intensive outpatient. It didn’t work.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

About 2 months ago. I changed therapists, I moved to DBT therapy which is working.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

My life is currently really well. I have made so much progress I still have anxiety attacks and my depressed days. But I am clean.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

What I would say to someone struggling is it gets better. It will always get better. Nothing anyone says or does to you defines you. It is not worth your life. Your life is worth way more than you will ever know, And hurting yourself will also hurt others. People do care about you.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

The Never Ending Cycle

October 24, 2009
Dr. E suggested I keep a writing journal along with the food journal, so here it is. She said to write about my progress (or lack thereof) plus anything else I want, and that it will be for my eyes only. I used to write in journals when I was younger, but opted out once I realized how much they brought my thoughts to life. Silly thoughts, dark thoughts, sometimes thoughts I never knew I had were all hastily materialized per blue ink scribbles. I soon learned that past me preferred to keep such thoughts from future me, and with that, the journaling ceased.
Today, the journaling commences.

October 26, 2009
I threw up today. I woke up knowing I would; not a single hint of doubt crossed my mind. I’m supposed to keep track of all the times I throw up and pursue possible motives, although I don’t know that there are any. My life really isn’t that hard, and I feel like naming “triggers” is just delegating blame. Have a bad day? Eat the problems away. Don’t like looking in that mirror? Try the toilet. Dropped a pencil on the floor? Go ahead and purge about it. And I do purge about it. I purge about this and that, every day.

October 30, 2009
Dr. E told me she doesn’t expect my habits to change overnight, and to not be discouraged on days like today, or like yesterday. She says once the new prescription kicks in (Prozac) that things should get easier. I’m finding it very hard to keep the food journal for reasons similar to why I couldn’t keep my childhood journals. Quantifying my binges makes me feel almost as sick as the binges themselves. I am aware that humans are not meant to bring so much food into their bodies. Before and during a binge my stomach has learned to disregard the concepts of “hungry” and “full,” and I’m not sure why.

November 5, 2009
Today’s therapy session brought up something I hadn’t thought about in years: when this all started. The first time I threw up was in the seventh grade. Recalling the details feels more like recalling a dream than an actual event that took place in a conscious state. It was in the bathroom sink, and I used a toothbrush instead of my fingers. The purge was both easy and painless, and I remember getting into bed that night thinking I had a new secret I would have to keep from the world. I lied down with a guileful grin, then drifted off into an effortless sleep. At the time, it was a solution to eliminating the perpetual discontent I had with my body. I thought I’d finally found the key to feeling more comfortable in my own skin. I felt I had discovered a covert loophole to the laws of physiology. Of course, it didn’t take long to realize that this wouldn’t be the incredible weight loss solution I had imagined (if anything I have gained weight since the cycle began), but here I am four years later.
That impassioned and temperamental middle schooler is worlds away from the young adult who stares back at me in the mirror now. Today I don’t ride the same emotional roller coaster. I don’t ride a tilt-a-whirl, or even carousel. I am stagnant in manner, aloof in presence. The anxiety and extreme self awareness we all encounter in our awkward pubescent stages had long been lifted, but nothing took their place. There is something quite magical about going through days uninfluenced by emotion. My ‘emotion log’ I was asked to fill out for Dr. E has the word “indifferent” written on Sunday, with an arrow leading it through the rest of the week. My boyfriend doesn’t get to hear the words “I love you” or experience any sort of sincere passion from my end. My friends are granted loyalty, honesty, confidence, but never genuine sympathy. My eyes don’t experience the swelling brought on by heart shattering tears, or by euphoric tears. I embrace the nothing. Nothing greets me every morning, then helps me sleep well at night. And through the years, my purges watched as the nothing slowly began to emerge.
Purges came long before the binging did. The latter was an inevitable aftermath. Once the two met, they linked hands, then chose my brain as their permanent place of residence. They haven’t parted with me since; they’re noisy and ornery and it’s impossible to forget them.

Nov 21, 2009
It’s been about two weeks since my last entry, and to be honest I’ve been avoiding writing in here. I told Dr. E I’m not fond of the journaling, but she says it might help me in the long run. I haven’t yet been given a reason not to trust her, so here is round two.
I threw up six times since Monday, and Dr. E said this is an improvement. I don’t exactly agree. The urges are just as bad, if not worse, and without them subsiding I don’t feel improved at all. For me, the urges are the worst part. Once one is triggered, it doesn’t go away. The urge to eat everything in plain sight takes over my thoughts until it is satisfied. This leads to the next urge, one just as strong, to relieve my body of every last bite.
I’m not proud to admit, even if it is just to future me, that I’ve relieved the urge in places outside of my own home. If the first hint of compulsion cannot be overcome, the cycle must reach completion. I’ve thrown up in friends’ bathrooms, I’ve thrown up in school bathrooms. One time I threw up in a bush in the backyard in the pouring rain, just to make sure I relieved the urge without my family hearing.
I really don’t like writing in journals.

Nov 24, 2009
I didn’t ever plan on going to therapy. I knew I had a problem, but I was convinced that I could stop the purging whenever I felt like it. I was convinced I was in control. I didn’t make a connection between the eating issues and my degrading emotion for a long time.
In the ninth grade my mother heard me throwing up. She called me into her bedroom after the fact and sat me down. I remember being caught off guard by her reaction; she wasn’t upset or worried, but rather angry and disappointed. In her eyes I was a young tenacious warrior, resilient to the petty pressures of adolescence. “This has to stop now,” she told me, “you need to be stronger.” I nodded and went to bed.
I didn’t receive any follow up questions or check-ins after the incident. The issue was brushed under the rug, and I couldn’t have been more relieved about it. The only thing I hated more than having the problem was talking about it.
Then one day, two years later, I finally recognized that hiding the problem wasn’t helping make it disappear, and that talking was my only other option. This time I called my mother into the room and sat her down. I admitted to my continuous struggles with the binging and purging between hysterical sobs. She cradled my shaking body, holding my head close to her heart. My mother may not have been able to identify with the problem, but this time it seemed as if she sincerely understood and accepted her daughter’s indecent flaw. Those were the first tears to escape my eyes in over a year, a prolonged imprisonment of emotions begging to be let out. I let them all out. A week later I found myself in Dr. E’s office.
I was nervous for my first day of therapy, as I had never talked to anyone about purging, let alone a perfect stranger. My mother offered to accompany me to the primary session for support. I accepted this offer.
I am at a loss for words to appropriately describe the feeling of having my mother in therapy that day. She had to hear her perfect little angel confess to the purges, describe them in their utmost detail. She had to listen to me define what a typical binge consisted of down to the last calorie. She took this all in silently with a blank face, and I have no idea what went through her mind. My voice trembled as it filled the cumbersome office air. It was the first time I’d verbalized any of this.
I was relieved when I first met Dr. E. My first impression was that she was very amicable, a good seven inches shorter than me with ivory white hair and a truly sympathetic demeanor. When I attend our weekly visits she listens thoughtfully and intently for the entire sixty minutes. She often wears a smile, which helps me feel relaxed. Her face is aged from a lifetime of grinning and laughter. In one of our earlier sessions we discussed the option of me going to a month long rehab clinic for other ‘bulimic’ adolescents where they’re given communal meals and daily therapy. I declined this offer, but it is still on the table if I decide I need the extra help. Judging by my food diary for this past week, it is still a viable option.

Nov 29, 2009
Today I was in math class when something happened. The back of my head began to swelter and pulsate, my vision blurred, and I lost feeling in my hands. I felt my brain liquify and begin to drip, drip, slowly down the inner lining of my skull. I became both unaware and hyper aware. Time stood still. I watched myself from a place within my own head, but also from a place thousands of miles away. For those few moments I was certain I was going to die. Once my legs were able to bear my weight, I stood up and walked out of the classroom. I paid no mind to the rest of my peers or the teacher. I had no mind to pay. I sat in the school bathroom until I was physically able to conjure thoughts and words, and to call my mother. Even though the hysteria was descending, she offered to pick me up if I didn’t feel comfortable staying at school. They say the crazy don’t know they’re crazy, but anyone who’s experienced this delusional reality can say that for those brief minutes, which feel like days, they are crazy. I left early with my mother that day. And for the first time in a long time, I was scared.

Dec 4, 2009
Dr. E isn’t surprised about the panic attacks. She says they’re probably a consequence to letting a lot of demons surface by talking about my struggles for the first time. Her words don’t help me because it doesn’t make them go away. She says only I can make them go away, but it’s difficult to believe her.
They have been coming out of nowhere, an abrupt assault of my most guarded possession: my mind. It is such a dreadful realization that I am no longer in full conscious control of my mind. At any moment, something beyond my scope of awareness can prompt its kidnap, and I am left to deal with the consequences. I don’t know where I’ll be when they come, and I am still not convinced that they’re harmless or temporary, so getting out of bed has become a real drag.

Dec 24, 2009
It’s been awhile since my last entry, and things are actually a bit better. The Prozac has finally come into full effect and has helped me more or less regain control of my psyche. I can now feel when the panic attacks are coming on and sometimes I can even make them go away before they fully surface. With the panic becoming my main priority, the binging and purging have taken a backseat in my mind.

Dec 27, 2009
Today I met with a nutritionist. Dr. E suggested it be the next step, since the frequency of purging has gone down, along with the urge. My older sister Maya asked to accompany me. My parents have always viewed her as the fragile, over-emotional daughter, while I was thought to be more stable and calloused. Maya, too, had problems with throwing up at my age, but never sought help. I admire her for being able to get through it on her own, something I could not do. Despite the dichotomous character roles assigned by our parents, I believe she is much stronger than I am, although she says she wishes she would have spoken up and gotten help like me.
The nutritionist gave me a couple of tips on how to eat healthy and to avoid food deficits because they trigger binges, which are followed by purges. She had a bunch of plastic food to help visually represent meal portion sizes. I’m pretty sure they were from those kid kitchen sets, so I couldn’t really take her seriously.

Jan 2, 2010
Since the cycle was broken, it really hasn’t been as hard to keep it that way. I’ve heard the first three days of being cut off from an addiction are the hardest, and then it slowly gets easier. As horrible as panic attacks are, they may have been just enough of a distraction to get over that initial three day roadblock, a blessing in disguise. I haven’t thrown up once since my last two entries, which may be the longest I’ve gone since the cycle began in seventh grade.

Jan 6, 2010
I have just finished my final scheduled therapy session. Dr. E agrees that I’m strong enough to no longer need sessions on a regular basis. Now that I’m not throwing up anymore or frightened with panic, we’ve honestly ran out of things to talk about. I never thought there would be such an abrupt end to such a perpetuated problem. The Prozac has helped with more than just controlling the cycle and panic attacks; I also feel less like a robot and more like a human being. I feel it has almost been too easy.
So, I guess this means bye bye journal. You’ll be going into the box in the garage along with the rest of them. You may have served your purpose these past couple of months, but now that my journey is ending I prefer to keep you with the rest, where I don’t have to see or think about these things anymore.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

TODAY:

Flipping through that journal so many years later fills me with mixed emotions. It brings me back to a time I hate to remember, but a time that is still relevant to me today. I wish I could say that hiding the journal meant closing the door to these problems, but over the years I’ve learned that it doesn’t. All my former struggles with the cycle creep up from off those pages, slither under doorways and around corners, then silently make their way up my unsuspecting body and into my head. I can go weeks, or even months feeling carefree, and then an urge will hit me, the same urge that has always hit me.
I would be lying if I said I could always suppress the urge to throw up again. I have had occasional relapses within the past years, though never as serious or prolonged as the original problem. I do still feel like an addict. As the years progress, I become more confident in my belief that bulimia is a real addiction.
When the urge surfaces, just as in the past, a switch is flipped in my mind that is much more difficult to turn off than to leave on. If left on, I stop thinking clearly. I get anxious and aggravated with the people around me. All I want to do is follow the same cycle I’ve grown accustomed to, and then the urge, with all the negative passion it brings, will go away. First, I eat. A lot. Then, with two fingers, I unearth the lowermost point of my emotions, as I reach the pit of my stomach. There, I find shame wearing relief’s disguise.
Thankfully, I usually do manage to switch off the urge when it first surfaces. Although, this isn’t quite as satisfying as it may sound. It leaves me with somewhat of an empty feeling that must slowly be forgotten throughout the course of the day. This feeling, however, pales in comparison to the awful feeling that overcomes me after a purge.
For every urge I’m not able to overcome, I tell myself that it will be the last time. I come to this false conclusion where I am certain I’ll remember how horrible that awful post-purge feeling is, and that I’ll never want to endure the same guilt again. The guilt of being too weak and hurting my body. The guilt of making a mess and wasting food. There is enough uncontrollable guilt in the world, and by relieving my urge, I add to the pool.
I used to not understand what perpetuated the cycle. The yearning to be thin would never be satisfied by this habit, which was something I learned soon after it began. There was instead something else, a different driving force only wearing the mask of addiction, which strongly persisted to be met. Addiction starts as a means to catch a high, but over time becomes the only feasible method of coping with life. The neurosis that built around the habit acted as a distraction from dealing with thoughts and emotions I felt powerless to. Addiction stands in for control, but it is nothing more than an illusion.
Throughout the years, the panic attacks have mostly retreated, along with my dependence on the little white serotonin boosting capsules of Prozac. It’s been a slow process, but I’ve been able to better accept emotions of all kinds as they initially arise. With a passion for love comes the pain of disappointment, and the thrill of risks brings the anxiety of failure, but in the end, living life makes much more sense to me in the context of emotion rather than the indifference I had once chosen.
Even with all the positive changes, I know I still have a lot of growing to do. I’m confident that, while I don’t think the urges will ever fully dissipate, they will continue to fade away and become easier to recognize and deal with as I become older and wiser. I am confident that one day I will be able to embrace my emotions fully instead of feeling the need to control them, or hide them behind a mask of binging and purging. I am confident that one day, opening the old journals won’t be such a dreaded experience. But, until that day, they will remain in that box.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

I have struggled with mental illness since I was a child. When I was around six years old, I began to experience anxiety and school avoidance. As I got older, I began to have overwhelmingly strong emotions that I struggled to cope with. Later, when I was 8 I began struggling with my body image and started going on small diets. When I was 10, it became apparent that I was beginning to struggle from an eating disorder. Throughout my adolescence I continued to struggle with eating disorders by restricting and binge-eating and purging. When I was 12, I was hospitalized for the first time after going to a boarding school. Overwhelmed by anxiety and depression, I began to self harm and think of suicide. This began a journey through mental illness that has followed me since. I struggled with self-harm, drug and alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, BPD, and PTSD throughout my entire adolescence and have survived multiple suicide attempts.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

When I was 8 years old, I began to see a therapist. Before then, my family and I went to family therapy because of an abusive relationship my mom was in. At this point, neither things seemed to give me any relief from my anxiety or overwhelming emotions. I was in psychiatric hospitals multiple times over a span of 8 years. Some of these hospitalizations helped to stabilize me, particularly after suicide attempts or long spans of self-harm. However, I still was not able to make enough progress to begin feeling ‘better’ during any of these periods.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

With drinking and drug use, I had a big turning point after voluntarily going to an inpatient rehab. Being diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder at 18, beginning DBT, and learning about my diagnoses was a big help as well. However, this was only the beginning of a long, ongoing journey. I think the biggest turning point in my life was becoming pregnant. When I realized I would soon be a mom, I was forced to look at the way I was raised; thinking of how it felt growing up with an unstable and mentally ill mom, and how my mental illness had affected those I loved. This was the point in my life when I was forced to take my mental wellness and safety more seriously than ever. I was able to stop cutting and begin the work that was necessary to get a stronger handle over my BPD and anxiety particularly.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Being a single mom is hard, and my anxiety is constant. However, I mostly worry about things I can control; being the kind of mom my daughter needs, and taking care of her. I try to use this anxiety to help motivate me to move forward, rather than getting stuck in the worry. Of course, at times, I worry over many things I have little control over. However, I find my mind is so busy taking care of an infant that I have little time to ruminate. Willow helps me to move forward and work towards mental wellness and stability. Although I still struggle with symptoms, I am constantly evaluating myself and trying to work towards my goals in therapy and my personal life. I know who I want to be, and I’m learning how to get there more and more every day.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

My favorite quote is:
“I may not be where I want to be, but thank God I’m not where I used to be.” (Joyce Meyer)
This is something I remember throughout the day. We forget our strength and resilience while we are struggling. But, there is never a time in our lives when things are beyond repair- no matter how strongly we may believe so. I remember the darkness I have come from and know that although I received help, I am the one who pulled myself out of it. For that I am unbelievably strong and brave. Hearing that ‘things get better’ can feel uncertain and vague (although its true). Instead, know that it is impossible for things to stay the same. What goes up must come down, and that is a constant flow we live with. As hopeless as things may seem in a moment, they can not possibly stay that way forever. Give yourself credit for the strength and resilience you posses. You have made it this far; you are a survivor and you have amazing strength.

If you would like to follow my journey of mental illness recovery, motherhood, and life click the read my blog, Well For Willow.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

Over the past six years, I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety. Initially, I was unwilling to get help. Even when I decided to do so, it was a while before I took recovery seriously. I tried to cope with my feelings in unhealthy ways, like purging or cutting. These techniques made me feel better temporarily, but in the long term every harmful action only deepened my mental issues.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

It took me a while to open up about what was happening to my parents. My family is incredibly supportive and stood alongside me every step of the way- but I wasn’t willing to accept their help at first. I wasn’t open with my doctors and therapists. My depression, anxiety, and unhealthy coping skills had become part of my identity and I didn’t know how to function without them.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

My biggest turning point happened when I was driving in car with my mother. At this point, I was barely in school and enough of a risk that my mom constantly needed to be attending to me. She essentially had to monitor me 24/7, making it difficult to manage a social life, a marriage, and being a mom to two other kids. I didn’t appreciate how much she sacrificed for me and how patient and tolerant she was. While we were in the car, I started complaining about something, and in a moment of anger she turned to me and said “You are ruining my life.”
I resented this comment because while I was depressed and dealing with anxiety, I put my needs before the needs of other people. I didn’t realize how difficult this was for everyone else in my life. For a while her words haunted me and I decided to internalize my feelings further and manage my depression in more harmful ways. I felt like I was a burden on my family and that I could fix my problems on my own.
It took me a long time, but eventually I was able to reflect on what my mother said and see that I was truly affecting the life of my family when I acted out, made unhealthy choices, and expected them to cater to me. Even though her words hurt at the time, I was able to see them as an outburst in a moment of frustration from being overloaded with responsibilities. I realized that if I wanted to get better and stop affecting my family members’ lives so much, I needed to stop coping through pain and expecting other people to deal with the consequences. It made me take recovery seriously and become honest and open with my support network.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Now, I occasionally struggle to deal with anxiety and short-term periods of depression when I’m stressed and overwhelmed. However, I couldn’t be happier with where I am now in life. I’m going to a university that I love next fall. My relationship with my family is strong, I have great friends, and my mental health is much better. I no longer need to take medication and I’m much better at self care.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

Be honest with your support system! It makes a big difference. Know that you are not alone and that there are many different resources you can use to begin your journey to recovery.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

When I was 12, I was diagnosed with manic depression and anxiety. 2012 was the year that would change me forever. It started out with becoming more and more isolated, not going to school, and not ever wanting to leave my house. I was 12 years old when the sexual abuse from my step-father started. This man was the same one that had raised me since I was 2. He was the only man I ever thought of as a father since my real dad was long gone by the time I was born.

It started out with touches, a little too close to my private parts, then it started with kisses and sneaking into my bedroom at night when my mom was asleep. I was terrified.He threatened my family against me, my brother and my sister and I figured, it was better that he did it to me, and not my younger siblings. It went on for 3 years after that. I started smoking cigarettes when I was 13, smoking pot at 14, 2 suicide attempts at 14, 3 when i was 15. I overdosed multiple times, dying only twice, only to be brought back.

I kept silent about my father, i wanted to protect my family and I felt embarrassed of myself, i didn’t know what to do or how to do it. I thought killing myself would end everything, so i tried, only to end up in a mental hospital for a couple weeks, then released back to my personal hell that no one knew about.

October 27, 2015 was another date that I tried to kill myself. I was unsuccessful. On the 30th while i was in the hospital, i let the secret slip about my dad. I wrote it down on paper and i told my doctors and things finally started to look up. I was so wrong. The same day i confessed to the sexual abuse i was put through, was the day that my dad killed himself in my family home. My mother was the one who told me. It was 2 days later when she found him, 2 days later when she told me at the hospital. I remember screaming the word no over and over again, crying until my face was purple.

I remember the nurses trying to comfort me but they couldn’t, they didn’t know how. I remember being so confused and hurt and angry. He got away with everything he did to me, and I had to suffer alone. I got out a couple weeks after that, and my family had lost our home due to the expenses of the funeral. We got onto welfare and had to move into an apartment, and it wasn’t too bad. Slowly, my mom started to turn cold and violent towards me, degrading me whenever she was angry, and leaving me to watch my younger two siblings.

It is now July, I have moved in with my grandma, who has always loved me no matter what, and who has always listened and believed me. I am 16, an age i thought i would never reach. Ive been diagnosed with PTSD, SAD and Bulimia on top of my manic depression and anxiety, but I’m taking medication and getting support from counselors. Nothing is easy, ever, but I am learning how to survive.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

At first the support i got was something that I would push away all I could. I hated the idea that I needed help, and I would refuse it at any point i could. Slowly, i stopped being so stubborn and i let them help me, and i feel much more stable now than what i did.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

Recently I have started to eat better, do more meditation and exercise and I have started to talk to people more and get out of the house. Moving in with my grandma was also a huge turning point. I feel like I am in a safer environment now than what I was with my Mother.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Well, I am now producing an album coming out august of 2017, and I am just, so excited that I have the ability to do this. I am so proud of myself for pushing myself towards this future.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

I wish I knew that the only thing holding me back, was myself. I was the one stopping myself from truly living, and I wish I had never limited myself to staying home and sulking in my sadness and wondering why my life was like this. Go out there, and make friends, do stupid things and be a little reckless. Just live.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

I was a painfully shy child. I was afraid of everything. My grandparents, whom I saw every weekend, slowly got me out of my shell and encouraged me to try many new things. My grandma’s rule with new food was “two bites” and then you can decide if you never want to eat it again. I can remember being afraid that my grandpa was going to drive off the dam when we were taking a boat ride on the lake which they lived at.

Everything really got bad my freshman year. I couldn’t find friends. The most memorable thing that set me into a downwards spiral was when I asked to sit with some of my friends the first day at lunch. There were literally 4 chairs open and they said I could not sit with them. Apparently there was no room. Just like in Mean Girls, I was rejected from the lunch table. I started skipping lunch and going to the band room. Then food became uninteresting. I lost a lot of weight my freshman year. Too much. People started noticing and telling me I looked great, but I didn’t feel great. I felt exhausted. My parents were getting mad at me for hiding in my room and skipping dinner at times. I lied to them about eating. I realized I had a problem, so naturally, I tried to fix it. I started going to lunch. I was crying one day, sitting at a lunch table by myself, and one of the seniors noticed and told me I could sit at her table. They were all music geeks like me, I figured I could relate. That’s the worst things ever got for me, besides last year, my junior year when everything started piling up. The stress was eating me alive and people were noticing. I do a lot. My junior year consisted of: band, jazz band gigs, multiple honors bands, basketball, volleyball, National Honor Society, Straight A’s, and a loaded class schedule. I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but you get the gist. I was freaking out and crying almost on a daily basis with everything. I started isolating myself.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

During my junior year was when people really started to reach out to me. One day I was crying and the school psychologist saw me. That was an “oh crap” moment. He proceeded to check in with me throughout the year. He told me one day that I work harder than any college student, and that I should be careful because he didn’t want me to burn out. Everything was just out of control a lot, and he kept “suggesting” or hinting that I could talk to him anytime I wanted, but I was afraid to. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t. Then this year, I finally decided to talk to him because I was having some troubles adjusting at the beginning of the year and wanted someone to listen, since my mom basically rejected listening to me. My dad lives far away and I found myself missing him a lot, since it’d been about 4 months since I had seen him. I talked to him and it wasn’t bad at all. It honestly helped so much. Sometimes you just need that one person to listen and tell you they care about how you feel and that, yes, it is hard, and yes, you can get through it.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

I’m not so sure if there’s been any turning points yet because I still have my days and weeks where it seems a bit hopeless. But, despite those days and weeks, I still manage to get through it and do what I’m supposed to be doing.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Now, I’m trying to keep the motivation to make it through my senior year. It’s hard, but I’m getting there. I want to be a music teacher, so I’m stressed out with preparing for scholarship auditions by taking private clarinet and piano lessons on top of regular band and practicing solos, basketball, grades, and choosing between colleges. I’ve accomplished a lot musically, just recently I received a scholarship to pay for my music lessons in full.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

To people who are struggling: Please remember that you are better than you think, more loved than you think, and are so incredibly important.

What’s helped me?: I wish I would have reached out to talk to someone earlier. It seriously would have been so much more manageable my freshman year had I talked to someone about my struggles.

How did it all start? When did you first start experiencing symptoms or using?

The first time I chose to starve myself, I was thirteen years old. Since then, my life plummeted into a downward spiral of anorexia, depression, anxiety, and self harm.

What kind of help did you get at first? Did it work?

At first, I saw one therapist a week, but it clearly wasn’t enough. I’ve been to an IOP program and as of now, I see two individual therapists, one group therapist, and one family therapist.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

I guess when I was sent to IOP [Intensive Outpatient Program] the experience as a whole opened my eyes up to how bad my disorders had gotten.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Today, I still suffer from the illnesses listed above, though I am on the road to recovery. I’m an aspiring author and I just finished my first official manuscript, Inside Her Plastic Skin. I’m currently in the process of getting it published.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

Reach out to those around you; you cannot fight these battles alone. Also, stay positive and remember — it WILL get better.