When I was 12 I decided that if I had little control over my life, I would control my body by manipulating my food intake and exercise regimen. It was a lot like spinning–it started out slow and produced euphoric effects in my brain. My heart thumped and I laughed frequently which allowed me to forget how empty my stomach was. I felt as light as a feather.
When I was 15, my body began to feel the effects: my head felt fuzzy and the laughter was muffled. Still, I spun around to ease my pain and to ignore the world that changed like traffic lights, dictating my every move. I did not want to stop.
When I was 18, I spun out of control. I had more pain than ever and I felt as if noone could help me slow down. I continued until I felt nauseous and dizzy. I watched the world flash before my eyes in bits and pieces, but I could not stop.
My world fell apart, but the real world, it still spun, seemingly unfazed by my fall. It seemed unfair that people still went to school, catching up with friends on their way to classes. It seemed unfair that life had just gone on. It seemed unfair that I had bounced from different treatment centers for eight weeks, but my peers were entangled with school, friendships, and relationships.
Sometimes it still seems unfair even though three months have passed, and I have gotten help. Although, now I realize that the people who are still in school did not spin out of control; they did not need an intervention, and if they do, hopefully someone will be there to catch them when they fall.