i used to have an eating disorder

i used to have an eating disorder.

that's not easy for me to say.

because most people don't know.

and i thought most people never would.

it's not that i'm embarrassed or ashamed.

because i'm not.

but i know how some people are.

i know that once they know the truth, they'll look at me different. they'll watch my steps and wonder if i'm slipping. they'll start to find ways to assume it's still me.

because some who do know...do that to me now.

but it's not me anymore.

and it hasn't been me for awhile.

but just because i say it's not me, doesn't mean some people forget.

because some people don't. and some people never will.

and it's hard when they remind me. it's hard when they won't believe me.

because i've tried very hard to overcome my past.

so i've told very few and trusted very little. 

even now i hesitate to share the truth. i hesitate for people to know.

because i'd rather avoid the questions. i'd rather avoid the comments.

but i can't avoid the obvious.

i can't stand by when i see too many people like me. too many fighting the same fight.

and i can't let them think they're alone. because they're not.

and so i share my truth for them. i take the risk because someone once risked it for me.

food used to be a major issue for me. my weight used to be a major issue for me. 

and it took a long time to overcome the fear of both.

i experimented with weight loss pills. weight loss drinks.

i made myself throw up. i tried laxatives. i exercised continuously.

i binged. i purged. i stopped eating. i hid my food.

anything to lose weight. anything to reach a number i thought was ideal.

but it wasn't ideal.

it was ridiculous.

but i didn't see that then. i didn't know that then.

all i knew was that the world rewarded skinny and that's who i wanted to be.

skinny. thin. envied. complimented.

skinny meant popular. skinny meant victory. skinny meant i had made it.

but all i really made was a mess.

it was a secret that i kept from everyone.

oh people whispered. and people talked. usually behind my back. rarely to my face.

some assumed i was anorexic. or bulimic.

or both.

but it didn't matter what they named it. it didn't matter what they called it.

it only mattered that i was lost. and i needed help.

and though people whispered and talked about me, no one actually talked to me.

until one friend did. 

she didn't whisper. she didn't assume. she just shared the truth.

her truth.

she told me her own story. her own struggle. her own issues with food.

and she invited me to go talk to someone...with her.

and by trusting me with her truth, she allowed me to do the same with mine.

because admitting i needed help was the first step to getting better.

admitting i was broken, was the first step to finding my way again.

sharing my struggles with those who had struggled, gave me strength. gave me hope. gave me the desire to change.

it wasn't easy. and it wasn't overnight.

but it was a start. and it was a step.

and though it's not who i am anymore, it will always be a part of me. it will always be my story. it will always be my truth.

my dad used to tell me, "tell the truth and the truth will set you free." and he was right.

because i did. and it has. and i am.

and if it's your truth, i hope you will do the same.

it won't be easy. it won't be overnight. but it will be worth it.

because you are worth it. 

your life is worth it.

and you are not alone.