I remember feeling my future slip between my fingers. I remember begging for my phone; if I could just call somebody and explain to them what happened, maybe everything would be alright. Maybe I could unravel this mistake like a loose thread on the seam of a cheap dress. Maybe I could resume my life like nothing ever happened.
That was impossible because even if I pretended nothing happened and blissfully went about my business preparing for finals, it was too late. My self-destructive behavior had gotten out of control long before this rash decision.
About five years ago, when bulimia had first snuck into my life with its seductive promises of success, perfection,and happiness, my life had gotten out of control. Since then, my life had become a series of self-destructive choices strung together thinly, masked by good grades, a love of running, a few friendships, and multiple college acceptances. I was never the smartest student, but noone would have pinned me as the girl who would have to leave school abruptly due to a mental breakdown.
Yet, here I was, in a hospital bed, watching my life fall apart. I sobbed uncontrollably and begged every nurse or doctor that came to check on me for my phone or a ride back to my school. Deep down I knew that the point was moot, but it was the only way I could think of to get my life back. I felt as if I was gripping onto the sharp edge of a cliff that was slowly crumbling into an avalanche. I was suddenly afraid of losing everything I had ever known–everything I had once worked for. It was ironic for a girl who had planned to leave it all behind a mere two hours ago.
As I was grasping desperately for a hold on my life, I failed to realize that this was the result of the path I was taking: restricting calories, purging, excessively exercising, self-harming, panic attacks, social withdrawal, depression, and failed suicide attempts. This moment was the result of years of inner turmoil that was lightly addressed. And while I felt my world falling apart, I had an opportunity to save myself.