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Eating Disorder Stories – Tell Us Your Story

Your Anorexia and Bulimia Recovery Stories Can Inspire and Uplift Others

Sharing your eating disorder stories is one of the most fulfilling things you can do on your journey of recovery.  Often those of us with bulimia hide the truth of our binging and purging episodes.  The guilt and shame of this keeps us disconnected from the world.  Sharing your addiction recovery stories is a beautiful step to come out of hiding and uplift others.

Once my bulimia stories were out in the open, I felt free from the guilt of hiding the truth and so relieved to be a part of a community of others who had the same overeating disorder problems as me.

Not feeling alone and being able to share and inspire through your own experience is liberating and healing!

Sharing my story with my future husband and my loved ones was both frightening and liberating.  The first person I told was my boyfriend (and future husband).  His calm reaction assured me that I was ok and that the more I shared my story with people who loved me that I would be accepted just as I was.

I went on to share about my compulsive eating disorder to my closest and dearest friends.  When they heard about my struggle with bulimia every last one of them had no idea what I was suffering with.  They felt sadness for what I was going through and guilt for not recognizing my struggle to help me sooner.

As a bulimic, you are just as human as everyone else.  Having bulimia doesn’t make you a bad person, only someone who needs support, strength, and the help it takes to fully recover.

As humans we learn from each other.  By contributing to this process, by sharing my eating disorder stories I felt that I was giving others the permission to do the same.  More and more, women are coming forward to say, yes, I am bulimic, and I want to share my stories with other bulimic people.

When a community comes together, it creates the power to heal.

We want you to come forward to share your story to not only heal yourself, you help others who suffer from bulimia.

I want to hear from you!

I want to hear your eating disorder stories; your thoughts, your emotions, and anything else you want to contribute to others on their journey.  And so do the thousands of people who visit this website.

Email me your story


use the comments section below to share your story now.

Do You Have A Personal Bulimia Story? Share It Here!

I have shared my bulimia stories to help you, if you are suffering wit bulimia, to recognize you are not alone. I would really appreciate it if you would share your story, too!

Be totally honest with your story. It’s great way of releasing some of your burden! A problem shared is a problem halved 🙂

Your bulimia story will be extremely valuable! It lets other sufferers know that they’re not alone.

Here are just a few of the stories women have shared that show that eating disorders impact us all a little differently and our journey back to health is unique to us.

Eating Disorder Stories: Kelly (Bulimia)

Eating Disorder Stories: Gretchen (Bulimia)

Eating Disorder Stories: Stacey (Bulimia)

Eating Disorder Stories: Jessica (Bulimia)

Eating Disorder Stories: Fiona (Anorexia)

Eating Disorder Stories: Hanne (Anorexia)


This Post Has 28 Comments
  1. I am almost 18 years old, I have a great boyfriend, a handful of friends, a supportive family and I am attending university. I look like your average teenage girl, but in my mind things are far from normal. My whole life is ahead of me, thousands of exciting experiences to be had, but instead all I can think about, all that consumes me is that number that appears every time I step onto those unforgiving, corrupting set of cold, cruel scales.
    59, 59, 59, 59, 59.

    From the ages of 6 till 12 years old my life revolved around gymnastics, a competitive sport in which being small is beneficial. Despite my tiny pre-pubescent physique I began to establish this idea in my mind that small=good, a concept that would haunt me throughout my teenage years.

    After quitting gymnastics and beginning highschool I blossomed into your average 13 year old girl, sporting a bad haircut, horrible skin and an interesting fashion sense. Through my first few years of highschool I only lightly touched on the issue of self esteem, as my friends and I experienced the usual pressures placed on teenage girls, embarking on many crash diet schemes that usually ended a day later with us all digging guiltily into a communal bowl of salty, delicious chips dripping with vinegar.

    However, when I hit year 10 and turned 15 my body decided it was time to change. It seemed that out of nowhere I had boobs and hips and thighs, which matched with my intense sweet tooth was destined to end in some future issues. As I continued to consume copious amounts of marsbars, musk sticks and redskins, the weight began to pile on so eventually my once slim 58kg figure of only a year ago had ballooned to an unhealthy and fairly jiggly 67kg. I desperately struggled to cope with this dramatic change from being such a tiny person to someone with curves and E sized breasts.

    By the time I turned 16 (with a far better haircut) I was sick of feeling big and unhappy and tried to become proactive about my weight, cutting out all the fatty, sugary foods from my diet and exercising regularly, a welcome change. Slowly the weight began to drop off and I remained throughout the rest of my highschool years at a steady, stubborn 62kg. Despite this being a healthy, normal weight for me, I still wasnt happy, but with the pressures of year 12 exams and my flourishing social life, I had little time to think about weight, so the issue was pushed aside.

    After I finally finished highschool and was accepted into university, I thought I was finally free. But in reality I was about to trap myself in a cage of self abuse and torture that seemed impossible to escape from. With the holidays stretched in front of me and no school work to focus on, I began to become more conscious about my weight and fitness level, monitoring the amount of food I ate and how much I exercised. I began counting calories, an obsession that for me marked the beginning of the end. Just after my 17th birthday I got myself a gym membership, and became obsessed with working out and burning off at least 350 calories a day while only consuming a strict 900. With this new regime my mind was consumed by only numbers and food, I started baking obsessively and feeding high calorie foods to my family and friends as if to fill this void I had created in myself. By this point my weight had dropped down to 58kg, not a dramatic change but suddenly it meant everything to me, my weight was my life, I stopped seeing friends and going out and took every chance I could to halve or skip meals in order to keep in line with my daily calorie goal.

    The beginning of 2012 marked the start of a series of 18th birthdays I would be invited to, and I craved the compliments I was receiving about my new toned, muscular figure and comments about how little I ate. But despite the new attraction from boys and jealous comments made by girls, I still wasn’t happy with the way I looked. At a new low of 56kg I still couldnt see the change, I couldnt see the new bones that stuck out and the muscles that bulged instead of fat. On the outside I didnt look much different, but on the inside I was slowly torturing myself, caught up in a whirlwind of numbers, self criticism and food always food that was preventing me from ever feeling completely happy.

    My body became weak both emotionally and physically. I contracted glandular fever along with various flus and viruses that prevented me from exercising, and made me even more unhappy. Without the intense amounts of exercise, I inevitably began to gain weight, slowly increasing up to 59kg, a figure that made me want to cry and scream and rip out all the fat I could see so blatantly on my body, I was disgusted with myself.

    I am almost 18 and I weigh 59kg. I have weakened my body with self abuse and torture, and it is time to stop. I am ready to be strong again. I am ready to explore and travel and learn and live up to my own potential. I want to be happy.
    I am ready to change.

  2. Danielle – I’m so proud of you! What a great story and thank you for expressing it here to this community. A loving, supportive community who can appreciate and relate to what you’ve been through. We commend your courage to take action to stop the insanity that has been your bulimic journey and to begin your journey as a powerful woman in the world. Confident, embolden, authentically who she is. From all of us to you, thank you for being brave and sharing what you’ve been through.

    Here’s to your brilliant recovery story…

    Love and light,

  3. My 24 year old daughter received a diagnosis of RAN at age 11. She had always been a bit different from her peers, more sensitive to sensory stimulation, easily frustrated, frequently disappointed just not comfortable in her own skin. My husband and I love her so much, and we did everything that would make bonding and attachment stronger not just because that was right but because it was what FELT right, and good and wonderful.I was a LaLeche League Leader by the time she was 18 months old, took her with me everywhere, considered her feelings, practiced loving guidance, fed her wholesome and delicious foods, all meals were family meals, was a stay-at-home mom and on and on. I ran sessions on self-esteem in children and many other topics, and none of this prevented her from manifesting AN. It’s been a long, hard road for her through various EDs and other issues. We had her in constant treatment until she was 18, through several different programs and several different therapists/psychiatrists. She then went off on her own and lived chaotically until, at age 21, she asked for help. She now lives on her own, has a full-time job and is receiving evidence-based care for her EDs and comorbid disorders. We also have a son, 3 years younger, who shows no hint of the issues that plague my daughter. She says she was born without the self-esteem gene. He has oodles of it, is calm and happy, has a successful life at college 2,000 miles away from home, with excellent grades and jobs tutoring, writing for the school paper and working at the gym. So, I’d really like to ask the aothur, if her theory is true, why did this strike my daughter and not my son? No one could have done a better job parenting both my daughter and son than my husband and I did. Fortunately, I never felt that I had done anything wrong, that I had anything to fix in my attitude. All I needed was the right tools and support to be able to get my D into effective treatment. The only thing I am sorry about is that it took me until she was age 21 to find the right information and support.At a minimum, at diagnosis, all parents/carers of those with EDs should be given information about ALL treatments and the results of studies about those treatments. Referrals should be made based on the parents/carers preferences. Sometimes an adult will seek treatment on his/her own, and the same should be done for them. My big complaint right now is that parents/carers are not made aware of all treatment possibilities.EDs are notoriously good at ripping apart families and causing huge problems between family members. That is the nature of the beast – sufferers will do everything they can to push away the help that they so desperately need. I think that there is so much confusion between what was going on in a family before ED manifests vs. after. Most of the families I know who have a child with an ED are just normal, loving families. I am convinced that for those who are biologically predisposed to getting an ED, any malnourishment for any reason can be the trigger for it to get going. It makes no difference how attached the child was or how much self esteem the child had.

  4. I think that you should talk to somebody. It sounds like that’s what you want to do but that you feel like you’re parents have dismissed you in the past and you don’t feel comfortable trying to talk to them again. I would probably feel the same way in your situation. If you can find somebody like a school counselor or teacher, another adult relative you feel comfortable with, or even one of your friend’s parents that you can talk to, that might be a good idea. From there you can ask them to help you, and maybe they can help you talk to your parents and get you to a counselor or psychiatrist; this will be easier if your parents are there to support you. I suggest this first because counselors aren’t free. If there is nobody else that you can talk to, then by all means see if you can get a hold of a counselor who is willing to take some time to talk to you for a little bit without payment and then maybe they can help you talk to your parents. Even though counselors need to make a living, they are first and foremost there to help you. I am glad to hear that you have never attempted suicide and I truly hope that you never do. Please, if you feel like you want to end your life then go to the hospital or call 911. I won’t lie and say that things will be better right away; you might have to spend some time in the hospital, but look at Demi Lovato and how much better she is doing after spending time getting help. I too have been in the hospital and used to s/h. There is no shame in asking for help, and don’t ever forget that you are not alone. Each and every one of you on here will be in my thoughts.

  5. My name is Sara. I wrote on this blog about a year and a half ago, when I was so desperate to get rid of my disorder that I didn’t know what else to do. I had bulimia for about three years, since I was fourteen. Food had never been a problem before, but suddenly, I was struggling with anorexia and after that, bulimia. I spend months in total misery, at the mercy of food. FOOD! Inanimate, soulless food had complete control over me. I thought about it day and night, and sometimes went to bed until four in the morning after hours of binge and purge attacks. I thought I was going to live my life like this, and die with bulimia….
    Until one day, I finally told my mom. I had moved to another country, and I was scared beyond belief: having to make a new life in a new place, while dealing with a horrible disorder. I surrendered. Crying my brains out, I asked for help. I realized that I couldn’t solve my problems all on my own. I thought I was weak for asking for help, but I had no choice.
    I went into treatment. They diagnosed my with Major Depressing Disorder and bulimia nerviosa (which, of course, I already knew about), so they sent me to Center for Discovery, an in-patient treatment facility.
    At first, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe I was going to live in a place where they check your activities 24/7, where I had to share my feelings with other kids with eating disorders, where I couldn’t talk to my family or my friends. It was a nightmare, yes, but my life was hell, so I had to give it a shot.
    It was a very hard couple of months. I had great days where everything seemed perfect and I was optimistic about treatment. There where others where I just wanted to get out of there and give up, because I was so deep in this mess that I couldn’t get out.
    But I made it. When I had to leave treatment, I was actually kind of sad. Center for Discovery saved my life. It was a very hard job, but I wanted to get better so, so bad. And by God it was worth it.
    I went to another treatment facility, for continuity. I felt so much better. Finally, I had control over my life and my decisions. Food was not a concern anymore, and I started to love and appreciate myself for who I am.
    Today, I am proud to say that I’ve been bulimia-free for more that a year. I never thought this would be possible. Sometimes I still struggle with irrational thoughts, but I am going strong. I enjoy eating! And I love myself! I can’t say that life is a hundred percent perfect, because it never is, but I finally realized that it is beautiful, a precious gift, and that we should enjoy it as much as we can. Why get wrapped up with superficial things when there is so much more to life that how people look? I really wish for everyone in this blog and the rest of the world with eating disorders that they find the strength and courage to defeat this disease. It IS possible. Trust me, and trust in yourselves. You are so brave and strong, and you can achieve everything you want. It will be a long way, and you will surely struggle, but when you turn back on that path and see how far you came, you’ll think: I am worth it.

    1. Sara,

      That’s an awesome story. Thank you so much for coming back to share your success with us! We really appreciate you being courageous and standing in your power in the face of your eating disorder. Congratulations for getting your power back and for living a life you love.

      With love and light,


  6. Hello my name is Ariel, well at least that is my middle name! I have never talked about my eating disorder to anyone. In fact I go out of my way to appear as if I don’t have negative feelings towards the state of my body. I purposely thrown up food since I was 15. I have gotten better with age finding new coping mechanisms for dealing with stress and feelings. Things like yoga, taking a hot bath, and napping. I often will not purge for weeks and months. I was honestly hoping I would have stopped by now. It is time for me to take a conscious look at this action, as I am still doing it from time to time.
    I am aware that purging is a way for me to cope. Most of my family are users of alcohol, narcotics, and food to ‘check out’. My family are first nations and metis people, and to be honest I believe that they are all suffering from trauma. My family I see once a year and never stay in touch with. I am only in touch with my mother, who is a strong and beautiful woman. She suffered from sexual abuse as a child, and neglect. She was an escort when she was younger, used alcohol to check out. When I was young she almost adopted me out, I was in a foster home. She ended up sobering up for good. We were really poor while I was growing up. Living on welfare. That didn’t matter much, because she had unconditional love for me. She still suffered from depression and binge eating, which I didn’t become aware of till my teens. All the woman in my family drink less than the men but eat more. They woman are almost all obese or just overweight. I was overeating long before I was conscious of it. By the time I hit puberty I was so out of touch with my body and its signals. Eating junk food and watching the tube is what I loved most.
    As a teen I became secretly, but not surprisingly body obsessed. I didn’t want it to be obvious. I wanted to project the image of someone who that would never be an issue. I started doing drugs, the lighter ones, psychedelics and what not. Started skipping class. Dropped out. During that time I met some beautiful people such as my best friend and her step mom who introduced me to holistic nutrition and yoga. I became very philosophical and reflective. Became involved in the conscious dance party scene and became very interested in alternative health. Still partied in moderation, did a lot of reflecting on that experience. At the same time my eating disorder was worse than ever. It was hard because I was trying to change my diet and health for the better. I had been raised on frozen veggie, meat, potatoes as well as fast, processed food my whole like. Now I was aware of exotic ideas such as eating whole, organic foods. Stressed out because I still had health problems like asthma, eczema and acne. Also was still a dependant so I couldn’t control what I ate. Family wise things took a turn for the worse. My father came back into my life, was sober for awhile, but started using heroin again. It was the first time I got a true picture of where he was at. I remember finding needles around the house… Also my mothers sister was murdered.
    When I was 17 I started working full time and moved out for a year. Finally I could control my life… After that year things got a lot better. I moved back in, worked full time, worked on my highschool one course at a time, saved the money to travel to Mexico on my 19th birthday. That was a life changing trip. I felt so empowered and independent. No fear, just extreme joy and lust for life. I was in Mexico to go to this gathering of elders from north and south america. I took part in sweatlodge ceremonies, peyote ceremonies, aztec dancing, mayan calendar teachings. I was given my spirit name. That was a very healing trip, I cried so much in the sweat lodges. After that trip I worked some more and travelled again to a friend I made in Mexico’s place, in Italy, right in a medival village. That was wonderful. After that year I no longer felt socially anxious and was much more free in my thoughts. I started only drinking socially, a glass of wine at dinner sorta deal, and oh so many dinner parties.
    I am finishing of my highschool this year. I live with my mother right now. We are both on a healing journey. Really she is the only blood family I have. I feel like I cannot confess my bulimia to her because she is still struggling with PTD, binge eating, staying away from smoking. She has freak outs almost everyday. She really can’t cope. I cannot afford a councillor at this time. I know I have to deal with this somehow but I am lost. I am too scared to admit to my friends that I am weak. I want to be seen as strong.
    I know in my heart that there is strength in vulnerability and I want to be open about this so that it can help other girls and women who hurt. Be brave little piglet. Much love! and thank you for providing the space to post this.

    1. Ariel,

      Wonderful to hear from you and thank you for posting so honestly and openly. Allowing what’s inside to come out is a wonderful part of healing. I can tell from your story that you’re very familiar with inner work, your hero’s journey, and trusting your wise woman to guide you. Keep doing that, Ariel. You are an incredibly powerful, purposeful and capable woman.

      If there’s anything I can support you with, please let me know. Email me.

      Be well,


  7. I fought bulimia for seven years – starting college, freshman year, when my grandfather pointed out my freshman fifteen by pinching my cheeks and calling me chubby. I was absolutely mortified and suddenly self conscience of my body.

    And that’s when I started to diet. And with the diet came the purging. I’d purge whenever I felt the guilt of having eaten what I considered in my mind as “too much”, sometimes restricting my diet to less than 500 calories a day, all the while exercising at least an hour a day. I found that the more I restricted and the more that I exercised, the better I felt about myself.

    The turning point came just when my obsession with binging and purging was at its peak. I had spent the prior year training for a half marathon and had welded my body into a lean runner’s body. I was running on average 30 miles a week (I’d run 13 miles every Sat morning), going to an hour long advanced yoga session each day, and on top of all that, spending an hour at the gym each day. Yet, I was eating like a mouse. My body was craving nourishment (there were plenty of runs where my body was screaming in pain and fatigue), but I wouldn’t listen because *apparently it made me feel better about myself to deprive my body of nourishment and energy*.

    My bulimia spiraled out of control and my quality of life plummeted. My binges were lasting longer and I was starting to see definite signs of wear and tear on my body. Furthermore, I was an emotional . I reached out to my family and my boyfriend. But my mind was utterly obsessed with food and nothing I did could stop the addiction.

    Then I decided I’d give counseling a try. I, like many out there, always calssified myself as different than the typical bulimic and therefore I was above needing counseling since I’d be able to quit on my own. Yeah, that had worked. So I saw a therapist.

    By this time, I had dwindled away to 117 lbs (5’9″). For once in my life, I looked in the mirror and was disgusted with how skinny I had gotten. I looked anorexic, not like a runner. My veins bulged, my joints protruded out awkwardly, my face looked jaunt and hollow. But try as I might, i couldn’t keep enough food down to actually gain any more weight. That was how strong a grip guilt had on me.

    In my second therapy appointment, my therapist delved into this guilt and asked me the toughest question I’d been asked: Why the guilt?

    Yeah? Why DID I feel guilty when I ate a cookie or a bagel or a piece of toast, etc? Who was causing WHO to feel guilty???!! Yep, I was causing myself to feel guilty. This all came clear to me in a yoga class a week after that appt. It had gotten to the point where I could barely eat anything without it being tainted with guilt, and this was all because my mind had developed this skewed relationship between restricting food and heightened self-esteem. This realization resulted in me walking out of the studio a completely changed woman. I loved my body, 117 lbs or 147 lbs, it didn’t matter. And my 7 year diet was over. Bulimia had been my crutch for the guilty conscience, but now that I no longer had the guilt, I no longer needed a crutch. And in that round-a-bout way, I FINALLY BEAT BULIMIA!

    I now eat to fuel my life instead of having my life revolve around food. Life is fantastic without the burden of an eating disorder.

    My advice would be: to properly fix the issue at hand, you need to learn to stop it at it’s source.

    Learn to love your body and your imperfections and move on with living life without guilt and without regrets!

    1. Hey Anne!

      WOOOOHOOOO was the first thought that popped into my head and nearly came out of my mouth when I read your comment. Fantastic to hear your story and what an inspiring share about how you beat that bulimia monster!

      I would love to stay in touch and hope you will continue to come back, share with us how it’s going and please feel free to share insights that you learn along your journey. You sound healthy in both mind and body now and what a relief it is to feel that monkey off your back – or out of your mind.

      I wish you all the best and appreciate you sharing what you’ve been through so that women reading this know it can happen at any time. It’s in our hands (or mind, as it were) to take back our power and live our lives with meaning, fulfillment and joy.

      All the best to you,


  8. I almost cried. I had to swallow the hard lump in my throat, breath and keep it together. My eyes were welled up with tears, but if I let it go now I could blow my cover. I looked up and blinked until my eyes were dry, trying to look unaffected by the information on the screen. A laundry list of eating disorder symptoms were on display. I had come to the Cedar Springs presentation on eating disorders for extra credit in my psychology class, not to realize that I had one.
    It is a secret. No one can know. Even I didn’t know until after it had been going on for a couple months. I did not have a “generalized” eating disorder; I was not anorexic or bulimic. I never thought I was especially overweight or anything. And to be honest I don’t know how or when my eating disorder really started. During my first semester at college, I was high most of my nights and it might have started then. I would smoke and my friends and I would eat, probably more than usual.
    I was unhappy by the end of that first semester with my living situation. My roommate and I were no longer friendly, and I could not even stand the sight of her. So on the weekends I would come back home just so I wouldn’t have to be in her presence. But it was just as a toxic and unhealthy environment at my house. There was food. And food became the ultimate enemy.
    I was extremely depressed. I would find comfort in stuffing myself with food. On Friday nights I would come home and look forward to my parents going out while I would be staying in. I would gorge on pizza, pop tarts, Oreos, and basically anything I could get my hands on. It didn’t even have to be something I even liked. It would hurt. I would stuff myself to a point of numbness, but I would wake up and go run 3 or 4 miles to make up for it. My atonement made it okay. And because it was okay it became my addiction.
    My first year at college was over. I had told my ex-boyfriend about my binge eating and he offered to help out in any way he could. He had come back into town for the summer and we spent almost every day together exercising and making healthy meals together. And instead of bingeing every weekend, I probably only did it three or four times that summer. His presence in my life really did help. But I knew he would be gone soon and I didn’t know if I could make it without him. No one else knew about it. It was the most embarrassing and awful thing about me. I could never talk about it, and I don’t remember talking about it that summer. And he never really knew the extent of the problem. I had a lot of anxiety about him leaving. I was scared as soon as he left I would relapse. The night he left for college, I did.
    By this time around again I had lost the freshman fifteen and probably weighed 100 pounds. I worked hard all summer, and I did not want to ruin it with overeating. So I started to take laxative powder and put it in my drinks. I would think, “This is okay, at least I am not throwing up”. My busy lifestyle and thyroid condition kept me thin, and I actually ended up losing about five more pounds. I remember my mom telling me that I had to eat more and that I needed to gain weight. And I tried, but by this point my disorder escalated and I started throwing up. Nothing was better to me than eating a bunch of stuff and being able to just get rid of it so quickly. That was almost a high to me, and afterwards it was like it never happened. I was in complete denial. I remember I had to go to work one day, but I really wanted to throw up before I went. I just ate a bunch of ice cream and felt like crap. Usually it was a quick process, but I was throwing up so bad I had to call work to tell them I would be late. At that point I knew I no longer was in control.
    It is the worst secret to keep and a consuming addiction. I had been through rough times in my past but nothing compared to this hell. I was not in control anymore. I could not physically stop myself. It had been carrying on all fall and winter now. I can’t remember how many times I threw up. I knew I had to tell someone else. I needed to be accountable. I thought if I tell someone then it is me taking control. So I told my best friend Kennedy. I did not think she would understand why I did it, because if she told me she had this issue I would not understand why she would do it either. To tell a guy is different. My ex felt sorry for me and wanted to help me, but it was never, “Why do you do this?” To tell a girl is a different story.
    “Why do you do this?”
    I don’t know. I can’t recall why it started or how. My emotions are obviously part of it, but I never went to see a specialist about it. I did not want to take that route. For me, I wanted to beat this myself. Of course, having my ex and Kennedy know about it was helpful in case I wanted to talk, but neither of them knew the whole story because addicts lie. I lied to them. I never told them that I would wait until everyone in my house was asleep to go and grab whatever snacks to eat before bed. I never told them that every time I eat something, even now, I think about what I used to do. I never told them that the bulging stomach and the sickness inside my gut after a binge was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life.
    After I told Kennedy, I never threw up again. My episodes of bingeing became far less frequent and less damaging. I can’t say that I will never binge again. But today I can say that I truly do not think I will return to that dark place I was at ever again. I want to help other people in any way I can with this disorder. I am not perfect. I will make mistakes. But I am recovering and every day I think about it less and less. An addict is always an addict, but my hope is that one day I can say that I am recovered. I write this to remember my struggle, and for me to realize how great I am doing now and how far I have come.

    1. Bravo Brittany!

      What a profound telling of your story. I’m touched and inspired by your honesty, your courage, your authenticity and vulnerability. Boy, I’m just sort of swept away here as I read your message. I could feel the energy and passion in your voice and hung on every word. Please allow me to acknowledge you here for what you’ve shared and I’m honored you decided to come out – not only to your close friends by anyone who finds this and reads it. You could very well have just saved someone’s life, my sister.

      If there’s anything I can do to support you on your journey, please reach out and let me know.

      You’ve got a good outlook and attitude and that will take you so far. Keep learning, keep working on the inner you and never give up believing that you can be whole and complete – just the way you are. You already are, truly. Now it’s time to begin believing in yourself unconditionally again. And I know you will…



  9. Just as an FYI – you have A LOT of triggering words (such as weight and sizes amongst other triggers) and stories on here for people in the midst of their eating disorders. Also, clinical treatment is the BEST form of treatment… As a professional in the mental health field, just because something worked for you, doesn’t mean it will for others. I would suggest consulting with a psychologist, psychiatrist or other actual eating disorder clinical specialist with what you’re saying and suggesting to people… It seems as though you refrain people from getting actual treatment. All the “alternative” stuff should be done AFTER recovery and with consultation of a physician. It’s great your trying to help, but I truly fear that you’re just doing damage to some people who visit your site.

    1. Hi Colleen,

      I’m really glad you stopped by and shared your feedback. I’ve often wondered what professionals would say about my philosophy and approach. I believe you believe what you’re saying just as I do and that’s good. If you didn’t believe in what you’re doing it wouldn’t work and if I didn’t believe in what worked for me it couldn’t have worked either. I’m not a fan of saying one way is THE way, so I am open to your ideas and approach just as I hope you are open to mine and others. Sounds like you are, so we’re definitely on the same side. My wish is for anyone who’s struggling to release their habits of binging and purging find what works best for them. Definitely professional help will be appropriate for those who know it’s their best route. For me, it wasn’t what ended up working so I would say I’m opening up alternatives to people who were in a similar place as I was after a lot of trying other things.

      I welcome your tools, resources and feedback to help further the support of anyone who wants to get past their eating disorder. We’re on the same team cheering for the same outcome. Thank you for helping others!

      In joy,


  10. Me & Bulimia

    My story began at the end of grade ten. The bulimia had not started yet but the seed of obsession and perfection was planted. I have always been skinny and athletic with healthy eating habits and a brilliant interest in sports. I have never had the perfect toned legs of a model but I have always received compliments directed at my body. I was able to eat what I wanted and it hardly effected me. Gradually, in grade ten, I began to notice that my body was starting to look slightly more voluptuous. It was not so obvious that other people could easily pick it up but I could see it because I was used to the way that my body usually looked. However it did not cross my mind often, I would notice it in the mirror but it was easily forgotten when I started my daily routine. At the end of grade ten I had to have jaw reconstruction surgery because of a slight overbite. This was when I started observing and taking note of my weight because the doctors had warned me that I would go through a dramatic weight loss. I weighed 54kg before the operation. Eating solids was not an option for six weeks and as a result I lost 7kg. By now I weighed 47kg. I am aware now but back then I had no knowledge of the terrible disease which had slowly edged its way into the back of my mind.

    During the time that I weighed 47kg I began to notice how much skinnier my body, and my legs in particular, looked compared to when I weighed 54kg. I was happy with what I was seeing but I also knew that at that moment I was bordering on anorexic. My shoulders and hips looked like they were trying to protrude from my flesh, I was unbelievably weak and I had loss incredible amounts of muscle. I decided that I would try to maintain 50kg when I was able to pick the weight up again. Unfortunately I never took into account how much I had missed real food and I was back to 54kg before I even realized that my body was picking up weight again. I was Furious and devastated and for the first time in my life I began telling myself that I was too big.

    I believe that this was when the idea of bulimia truly began to sprout in my mind. Comparing myself to other beautiful girls became part of my lifestyle. I wanted the boys to fall head over heels for me and I thrived off compliments directed towards my body. When I went out with friends I had to be the most beautiful girl in the room and if I was not then my night was ruined. I would become reserved and antisocial and beg to go back home. On the contrary if I thought that I looked absolutely stunning I was by no doubt the happiest person at the club and a complete party animal with no care in the world of what other people were thinking. I kindly ask you not to misjudge me, I knew from the moment it started that this was an unhealthy way of thinking. The foundation on which I grew up was open and strong. I could easily approach my mom or my sister and my mom was excellent at making sure that her two girls were well aware of mental illnesses and obsessiveness. I had appropriate role models and friends and went to one of the top schools in my country. How did a girl who apparently had everything going for her wind up as such a disastrous mess? Here is your answer: Bulimia has no limitations.

    Social media had a tremendous effect on my thoughts. I began following and spending my nights scrolling through different girl’s profiles. Models and celebrities, girls that media labelled “drop dead gorgeous” and “out of this world”. I wanted to be like them, I wanted everyone to think that I was as beautiful as they were. I made the terrible mistake of comparing my body to the copious amounts of photoshopped images pasted in every magazine. Loosing weight became my addiction. 50kg was my goal and then I would be irresistible. Throwing up had always been at the back of my mind but I was horrified at the idea of sticking my fingers in the back of my throat. It truly frightened me and not once did I believe that I would resort to it. One night I had the tragic misfortune of being spiked at a club. I could swear that I had felt a minuscule pill quickly slip down my throat. In sheer panic I ran to the bathroom and forced two fingers in my mouth. I stretched them as far back as possible and lightly tickled, what felt like, the tip of my tonsils. I watched as every drink from that night came cascading out of my mouth and spluttered into the toilet bowl. Never in my life did I think that getting rid of the contents in my stomach would be so damn easy.

    In the beginning I only threw up when I ate something unhealthy which luckily was not too often. I told myself that I was only curious to see how it worked and over time I stopped doing it. During the next two years my weight slowly started creeping up to 56kg. I dieted and exercised but all that I achieved was a fluctuation in my weight and days that I felt better than others. On the day that the scale read 57kg I crumbled into a wreck. Hate was an understatement of what I felt when I looked in the mirror. I swore to myself that this was the last time I would let my weight get the better of me and that I would strive for the perfect body in my new gap year. I had the brilliant opportunity to go and do my snow ski instructors course in New Zealand for three months and I came to the conclusion that this was the perfect time to work on my figure as I would be doing intense exercise for seven hours five days a week. This backfired miserably. I ate nearly triple of what I would usually eat at home and most of the food consisted of sweet pastries and carb packed meals. I would not say that I became fat but I was extraordinarily muscular. My legs, arms, shoulders and triceps had doubled in size and my stomach was not as flat as it used to be.

    This was when I started throwing up at least 3 times a day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner all went down the drain. I have read about some bulimia cases and I did not get to the point where I was coughing up blood and passing out but my heart ached at random parts of the day, my throat was coarse and dry and eventually I struggled to keep any food in my stomach. I do not know how much weight I lost during those last few weeks but when I got home I weighed between 59 and 60kg. I know that this is not a lot but it was the most I have ever weighed in my lifetime and it left me in ruins. I could not look at myself in the mirror and I was overwhelmed with depression if I even let my hands pass over my chunky stomach. I did not want to see anyone I knew and stayed in doors for at least two weeks while I resorted to starving myself. I would try and through up any small amounts of food that I would allow in my mouth and numerous of times I found my self gagging and coughing till me ribs spasmed and ached in an effort to get anything out. I tortured my self with self hating thoughts and the fact that all my clothes were marginally to small only made matters significantly worse. Eventually I got my weight down and it would vary between 56 and 57kg. Obviously this was not enough, and I still saw an enormous ogre every time I looked in the mirror, but I allowed myself to go out and spend some time with friends. However I no longer enjoyed life as much, I constantly pondered over what other people thought of me and every 10 minutes I would tell myself how bulky and gross I looked.

    November 2015, I am with my family on holiday and have been experimenting with a new diet. Yesterday we all decided to go have hamburgers and milkshakes. Self control has always been my toughest obstacle; I can not restrain myself from eating unhealthy and delicious food when it is staring me directly in the face. I was overridden with guilt and went straight to the bathroom to rid my stomach of the scrumptious delicacies. On the walk home my cousin confronted me, in a raised and horrified voice she asked “why did you go and throw up your hamburger?”. It felt like a metal ball had collided with my stomach and forced me to stop and double over in my tracks. I was shocked and mortified at the idea that she might know. I realized that I had made a tragic mistake; in my desperation to get back to everyone as fast as possible I had forgotten to make sure that I left the bathroom spotless. Of course I denied everything and locked myself away before she could get another word in. As I sat in my room sobbing I swiftly became conscious of how dispirited and depressed I have been for the past year. I hated myself. I was disrespectful and rude to everyone who loved me and the damage I had done to my body overwhelmed me with grief. What made matters worse is I always knew that there was something wrong with me, I knew I had to stop thinking so negatively and stop worrying so much but I could not bring myself to change. In a way I believed that if I could just shed a few more kilograms then my life would be wonderful. I guess it was out of pure fear that my mom might find out through my cousin that I decided to tell her first. Through all the tears I told my mom absolutely everything that I have told you.

    I would never say that I recovered there and then but there was an instantaneous change in my thinking habits. Suddenly I realized that I can get help without being judged and these nightmarish thoughts will come to an end. So far I have found it easier to forget about what I have eaten and focus more on the company around me, I have stopped being so hard on myself and make a constant effort to push bad thoughts out of my mind. I have definitely not recovered but I know that this is the first step in the right direction. I am no psychologist but for anyone struggling with bulimia, talking and writing about it have helped me in unspeakable ways. I hope that I can keep my word when I say that today was the last day that I was a victim of bulimia.

    1. Wow Catherine…what a story! You are on the right track now. The road may meander a bit to lasting recovery, but I can hear in your words and your story that it’s time. It’s time to reclaim your life. Your happiness. Your relationships and feel and receive love again.

      I will say a prayer for you that the tools and resources you need are here for you or you find what you need along the way (reach out via email if I can help further, ok). May your road be swift and smooth. May those you love rise up to support and shower you with love that you so deserve. You are completely normal and just a few thoughts and practices away from regaining your joy. I believe you can do it.

      Bless you,


  11. It all began my senior year of high school when I was finished playing sports and wasn’t exercising as much or eating as well as I should have been. I had already lost 50 pounds but I was healthy and then it began. I began to gain weight slowly and I hated it I hated the image I saw when I looked in the mirror I hated having to buy bigger clothes because my size 2 Abercrombie shorts weren’t fitting anymore. I hated the way I felt after eating bad I was just unhappy so I made the decision that one night that has changed my life dramatically in the last 3 years. By the summer of my senior year I was forcing myself to expel any bad food I ate, it was only a couple of times in the beginning and then it was every week or every few weeks and then it was everyday, several times a day and now today I still have been unable to defeat this devilish disease. I was working on psychology homework when one of the questions was “bulimia can lead to ____ failure.” The answer was heart failure! I began thinking how could someone as young as me die of heart failure at the age of 21 years old. So I began trying to change my ways I reached out to the Internet, to Pinterest, to others on social media that post examples of healthy meals, I keep trying to tell myself I can do this I can get thru this. I have often wondered why is this happening to me why can I not control this? It’s like God is continuously trying to lead me the right way and constantly trying to open new doors to allow me to escape this bad side of my life but it’s almost like I just keep slamming the door in his face and ignoring his help. I don’t want to be this way anymore and my biggest fear is not being able to have a family one day with my wonderful boyfriend or not even making it to see that part of my life. I want to live a long happy healthy life and I’m ready to move forward and be done with this instead of constantly going backwards. I am in college, I have a job but I’ve reached the point where I don’t know how I can possibly be a good example of a nurse if I can’t even take care of myself and my own body.

    1. Hi Terra,

      I can feel the intense desire you have to be out from under your binging and purging patterns. Bulimia is kinda sneaky because it builds over time with momentum and once the trigger/action/reward patterns are in your brain it takes time and effort to change them.

      You CAN do it. You know you can and it’s just a matter of time and commitment to working on it. I hear you are disciplined because you are a student and that takes discipline to keep to your studies.

      If I can help in any way, please let me know. I hope you’ll check out my blog and ebooks to learn more about alternative perspectives on bulimia than you may have read about in school. You don’t have a disease or a disorder. You have an addiction created by intense thought patterns that are now wired in your brain.

      Now for the good news: you wired your brain to have bulimia and you can rewire it to be normal again.

      Please email me directly if you’d like to talk further, ok?

      All the best,


  12. Hi ! This is a story is about me and my eating disorder. More likely, the thing called anorexia.
    I am born inside a Chinese family where body types, height, weight, etc was looked at very intensely. I was born rather chubby and my mom, had always criticised me about my weight . When I was grade 5 , I realised that my eating was just… absurd!! It was a TON of portion but the reason why I continued was because even with excessive food, I WASNT GROWING FAT!! I was happy, cheerful and jolly because my hobby since I was a kid was to eat. But, it was discovered that I had gotten hyperthyroidsm.

    I was under medication , even until today and I was constantly gaining weight because my eating pattern was just too excessive for my recovering body. However, I couldnt help it. At grade 9, it was where hell began. I reached my highest weight of 76 kg at height 160 . And yes, I was obese. I knew it, but i ignored it.I closed myself to protect the vulnerable me, from mean comments. Until one day, all the criticism and bullying got into me. My whole family , my mom, my classmates. they ended up teasing and insulting me. I was deeply hurt. I remembered crying, asking why I was born this way. Why I am so fat!That is why I decided on a weight loss journey.
    Let me tell you, it was the worst, darkest part of my life. I only ate 2 bread and 2 apple in a day. And I know, that sounds like I am trying to kill myself. But I was hopeless, I was lost. I see every food as an evil thing to make me gain weight and I kept that up for almost 1 year. I lost weight, till 58 and goodness, I was addicted to my weighing scale. Every drink, food , will always be measured. I COUNT EVERY SINGLE CALORIE IN MY FOOD!! It was like … I was a calorie calculator. I started having hairfall and teachers asked me what was wrong because literally, I was bones all over. My chubby cheeks was gone. Just… skin.
    However, I noticed that there was a point where I nearly blacked out. My vision was white and black when I stand up and I can barely hold it in in school. I was lifeless and cold, because I was always holding in my hunger. And my weight increased because I ended up binge eating. That… made me mad!! Even 0.1kg will depress me.
    Then came my sister, who helped me. She told me to stop. She told me to look at myself . And I did…. my figure wasnt the one I wanted. I looked like a bony , matchstick, pale, lifeless, always angry, grumpy. And I noticed how upset my family was because their once cheerful daughter was.. gone.
    I, decided that I HAVE TO STOP!! I know it was hard and right now, I am in grade 10, currently 58. But that weight was one i kept up with from eating healthy and exercising. My recovery was hard. I couldnt detach myself from the weighing scale still but calories does not matter anymore. The first few months I remembered was horrific because my weights just constantly fluctuated. But I know that I have got to do this to regain my old self. But now, I believe I am almost fully recovered .
    All I want to say is that, these eating disorders are a horrible thing to experience.This world is judgemental. But we arent perfect !!WE ARE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS!! So just embrace yourself and love your own body. If you want to change it, PLEASEEE change it through excercise, and eating the right food. I want to share and give encouragement to those struggling.IF I CAN DO IT SO CAN YOU! I hope my experience can motivate someone to keep on fighting this deadly disease. Thankyou

    1. Hi Kim,

      Thank you for sharing your story and WAY TO GO!!

      Keep sharing your story and being open to support people who haven’t yet found their way to lasting recovery.

      In joy,


  13. I had bulimia for most of my life. I have now been bulimia free for 2 years. I am 49. And I am so happy to get to experience life without bulimia. Find other wa ys to express yourself. Read great books. See great movies. Create beautiful things. Run (my favorite). Bulimia for me was control. I needed to control something. And I wanted people to love and like me. I thought being thin was a way. I was still alone. I was fat. I was not happy. So why bulimia?? Yes why. So with the help of God, I stopped. I just started eating healthier and started moving. I started doing things I loved. I started living. My new birthday is July 28.

    1. THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO HEAR! Thank you, Ann, for stopping by and sharing your story. You have much to celebrate. You’ve got your freedom! You’ve got your life back and best of all on your own terms. Thank you for sharing your story.

      In joy,


  14. Hey there! I’m Kathleen and I’m 17! I’ve been inspired by the many stories here to share my own personal battle with anorexia and social anxiety. I’ve just graduated from psychological therapy, and I want to help others who were in a similar position as me and to help them gain their life back. So here it goes:

    My anorexia and social stemmed from my ballet career. I loved ballet and started dancing at the age of 4, and went into competitive ballet when I was 10. By the time I was nearing 13, I noticed that I started to develop a more muscular/athletic body type – which was not suited for ballet, as ballerinas need to maintain a relatively slim body shape. Hence, my coach told me that if I wanted to compete, I had to lose weight. My goal was to get from 55kg to 45kg, and mind you, I am 165cm tall. So I did, and I kept an instagram account, logging in my food everyday so that it would be easy to count calories at the end of the day. However, without my own knowledge, this obsession with food, calories and the way I looked (especially since I had to stand in front of a mirror and critique myself everyday while dancing), brought me to my downfall. I was frustrated that I remained stagnant at 51kg and couldn’t go any further unless I starved myself. My coach would often squeeze my arms and tell me that I was too fat and that I needed to lose somemore weight. It was when I posted a picture of me eating a banana for lunch when someone told me that I’ve gone out of control and needed help. I quit ballet, and sought psychiatric help, where I was diagnosed with social anxiety and anorexia.

    The journey to recovery was long and arduous. The goal was to increase my weight, to get rid of the habit of calorie counting and to get rid of my dear of foods. There were times where I relapsed, and felt shitty about my body, but I managed to get over that quite easily as I love food. The tougher one to get over was my social anxiety, as my anorexia was based upon my social anxiety. A part of having social anxiety is being extremely afraid of what others thought of me (and hence a by-product of that was my eating disorder as I didn’t want people to think that I was fat), and that has given me thoughts of jumping off a building when I was extremely anxious, and would make me unable to sleep at night. Another part of the anxiety was just getting really anxious whenever it came to social situations. I would stammer a lot, and my hands would be shaking. I would be afraid to call the dentist to book for an appointment, and basically any form of social interaction made me worried as HELL baby. However, the KEY to getting over this is exposure. My psychologist equipped me with the skills to cope, and I just had to believe in it and hone it by exposing myself to those situations. It was hard coming out of my shell. It really was. No one knows the pain except you. There were times where I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and not come out and face the world. There have been so many painful nights, nights where I would stab a blade into my skin and watch the blood ooze out as it did with tears streaming down my face like a waterfall, wetting my pillow case.

    But nothing, was more painful, than having to conceal this from others. When others ask me why I stopped dancing, I had to lie by saying that my grades in school were suffering and I needed to stop. I couldn’t tell people that I lost the battle to anorexia and social anxiety. I would get judged. I am from Southeast Asia, a relatively conservative region, and telling someone that I had that would make me seem as weak, powerless, and having no strength. I wanted to be truthful and to be proud that I overcame my inner demons, but I couldn’t share that. My story would be deemed as nothing but a mere lack of willpower to continue with my weight loss journey.

    However, I’ve learned not to be afraid to step up and say that I conquered this _____ and I’m proud of myself for doing so. I started to open up to people, and to my great surprise, people were alright with it and accepted me for it. It all goes down to show that you never know to till you try, and this is something that those with eating disorders/mental illnesses in general, regardless of the type, have to do if you want to recover!!

    I hope my experience has inspired some of you. My goal someday in the nearby future is to walk into a ballet class again and take a lesson. As of now I am too harrowed with my experiences of verbally abused by my coach, and I really want to challenge that and show that one bad chapter doesn’t mean that the rest of my chapters will be bad!!

    1. Hi Kathleen!

      Thank you so much for sharing your inspiring story. It’s fantastic to hear that you did this on your own…with some coaching and support. You are demonstrating through your story that it really is up to US to make the change. It doesn’t always seem easy or even possible, but thank you for showing that it is not only possible but so worth it!



  15. Hey there! My name is Lisa and after reading all those stories I finally decided to share my own story because for the first time I feel like I can talk about my story without hating myself or feeling like I’m making it all up for attention. I am a small, skinny girl and I’ve never weighed more than 90 pounds (Heaven forbid!) When I was a child I was constantly called pretty, beautiful, cute. Middle school teachers even told me I should model (I’m not actually as pretty as you are imagining right now). Once I got to grade seven I developed a really bad social anxiety and quickly became the perfect target for bullying. My best friend would constantly point out things that were “wrong” with my body, trying to make it seem like a joke. Worst part is that I let her do that and laugh at it, afraid to hurt her feelings if I said anything about her. So I just kept it to myself and spent hours and hours in front of the mirror. Contemplating every inch of my body. I hated myself. I hated my face, I hated the way my stomach looked, I hated my skin, and most of all I hated the fact that I was trapped in this body.

    when I was 14 years old, my family decided to move to a bigger city. Here me and my social anxiety started grade 9. Miraculously, I managed to make a couple of friends. At first it was going great but than more people (including my friends) started pointing out more and more things that were wrong with me. Annoying, clingy, stupid, ugly, and the list goes on and on. Every day they pointed out a new flaw and every day I would go home and spend hours in front of the mirror crying. I hated myself. I didn’t want to get out of bed, I didn’t want to go to school, I didn’t want to live. By the time I was 15 people have started noticing the scars on my arms and that something was very wrong. the words crazy, mental, weird, psychotic, were added to the already never ending list of everything that was wrong with me. That’s when the scars on my arms transferred to my thighs. My unhealthy eating habits were getting worse and worse. The obsession with calories, healthy eating, looking good, was taking over my life.

    The year I turned 16:
    One day, I was coming home after a fun shopping trip with a couple of friends. I was in a good mood for once in my life and somehow started a conversation with a boy who was approximately my age, who happened to be on the same bus as me. We exited on the same stop and continued the conversation as we walked down the dark street. He asked for a hug so I hugged him. He took it as an open invitation to sexually harass me and rubbed his filthy hands all over my body, trying to force me into a kiss (and more). I screamed and struggled out of his suffocating “hug”. When he finally let go, I ran home, locked myself in my room and spent another hour looking in the mirror. For once in my life I felt like I was actually pretty enough for anyone to even want me that way. So ever since that day I started letting guys touch me (no, I did not have sex with them in case you were wondering it was mainly just lots of weird touching and kissing). I hated it. I hated every second of it. I hated being touched. I hated the way they talked to me, I hated them. Every day after another hook up I would just come home, lock the bathroom door, take out another razor blade and slide the sharp edge against my thigh until the bathroom floor was stained with blood, until I could feel that I’ve punished myself enough for being such a useless waste of oxygen. Then I’d get in the shower, wash off all the blood and the stains of their hands on my body, and go to sleep telling myself that tomorrow will be okay.

    Last summer I was lucky enough to meet a boy I fell madly in love with. He treated me like a normal person. He let me talk to him and for the first time in my life I felt like someone actually cared about me. My obsessions with healthy eating were getting better. I even stopped self harming for a bit because there wasn’t really a place on my body where I could do it without him seeing it. For once in my life the world felt okay and I didn’t feel like killing myself in order to make people happier.

    After three months, he decided I’m a little too much to deal with and made the decision to end our relationship. That was also the night my world fell apart. I started cutting again. This time much deeper, sinking the blade into my skin, tearing my flesh apart because it was the only thing that felt right anymore. Once I even slapped myself right across the face in front of my mom because I let myself eat a piece of cake. Needless to say she was EXTREMELY mad at me that night and I spent the night in my best friend’s bed, sobbing in her lap. I started throwing up after meals, eating less, not eating anything sweet or fatty (and if I did I had to hurt myself in any way possible) and counting every little calorie. My own mom started calling me crazy, but she doesn’t even know it is an actual problem so I keep quite about it.

    I will be 18 next month and I’ve been clean of self harm for about three weeks now. I no longer make myself sick, but I still struggle not to count calories. Now I have a part time job, I am a full time student, I volunteer at a local hospital for wild animals and I like to think that I deserve to be alive no less than any other person on the planet. I still don’t feel happy with myself and I don’t think I ever will but I’m determined to stay alive and make the best of my existence.

    1. Hi Lisa,

      Thank you for contributing your story here so that others may learn what can happen if we let our thoughts about ourselves (and self-harm) gain momentum.

      It sounds like you’re rebounding from the darkest of your struggles with self-hatred and taking it out on your body. I would love to connect with you to see if I can help you along your journey to stay on track with your progress.

      You have been given a beautiful gift of life and a body to enjoy it in. Shifting your thoughts from those of “what’s wrong with me” to “who am I (really)?” can help you begin to imagine the possibility of how incredible you are.

      You are a part of the Universe in a human body. A soul inhabiting a body that can take you anywhere you want to go. Imagine the possibilities if you begin to believe how amazing you are instead of how disappointing or believing all of the negative things people are saying. You’ve got to get around new people!

      Contact me and I’d love to help you with techniques to work through these negative thoughts further.

      In joy,


  16. Hey everyone! It was so nice reading everyone’s story and feeling not so alone in this. I guess I’m here because I know admitting you have a problem is the first step in recovery and I know I need to talk about mine.

    My name is Shannon and I’m 19. I don’t even really know where to start. For about over six months now I’ve tricked myself into thinking I had really bad stomach issues that could not be helped. I missed many days of school and had to miss fun plans with my best friends on many occasions. I went to multiple doctors complaining of severe nausea and throwing up. I had one doctor tell me it was Irritable Bowel Syndrome (a quick and easy diagnosis for a patient with nausea) and another tell me I was taking too many vitamins causing me to feel nauseous. I knew very deep down I was just feeling nauseous all the time because I hadn’t eaten. (Later I researched that it is possible to feel nauseous and throw up from not eating). But, I kept my self-busy. I was always out with friends causing me to push those thoughts into the back of my head. I continued looking for another medical reason as to why my stomach was so bad. I also continued barely consuming any food, only eating at night most days.

    There were a lot of “voices” in my head telling me that I was crazy to assume I have an eating disorder. I knew that when I looked in the mirror, most of the time I wasn’t happy with what I saw. But I held onto those moments when looked in the mirror and I was happy with what saw and used them as reasons as to why I “don’t” have an eating disorder.

    For the past 6-8 months, I’ve been miserable with the amount of nausea I’ve felt. It took a toll on me mentally. My friends started to notice weirds eating habits with me and eventually confronted me. The first thing I did was break down crying and it was then I finally understood and accepted it.

    I’m on the road to recovery and I know it will take time and effort, but I’m ready.

    1. Hi Shannon,

      Thank you for sharing your journey so far. It sounds like you’re ready for a shift…even if it’s scary or uncomfortable. Sometimes we need to experience falling into a pit before we can bounce back and really let ourselves feel good again. I don’t know why it often works that way, but you’re not alone in this or where you’ve been. We’re here with you and will gladly help support you with resources, ideas, and accountability in any way we can.

      Let us know what you need now, ok?

      All is well,


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