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By Natasha Files
ALL I could think about was how much pain was in my
heart.
It had been a long day at school – and what with
only getting 89 percent on a French test, and the boys calling me fat, I
was overwhelmed. Somewhere between the front door and my bedroom I found a
knife.
Bandaid solution
As I stood in front of the mirror and pushed the blade
into my forehead, a feeling of relief overtook me.
The intense hurt that had been in my heart was now
trickling down my cheek in the form of blood. Sorrow is not tangible, but
an open wound could be dealt with by applying a bandaid.
Despite being adopted at one month, it seemed like I
lived a stereotypically perfect life. Every summer we went away to a cabin
on the ocean, and during the year I attended church and was in dance
classes, swimming lessons and any other extracurricular activities that I
wanted.
Although there was no obvious reason why, inwardly I
believed no one wanted me. I thought my biological mother hated me so much
that she gave me away.
In grade 7, the lies that had been rooted in the back
of my mind surfaced – as other children began making fun of me for
being the smart kid. I secretly started eating to numb the pain, and
discovered a form of coping through self-harm. Not wanting to worry my
family, I became well practiced at making manipulative excuses for the
newfound scratches that kept appearing on my body.
High school brought the promise of a fresh start; but
in actuality, my problems followed me. I entered grade 8 as a
self-conscious, scared, perfectionist, people-pleasing over-achiever. My
life was miserable.
I decided that losing weight was the only way to be
happy. In grade 9 a peer made a comment to me – and I promised myself
that I would lose weight, no matter what it took.
Wanting to be liked
I prayed to God to give me an eating disorder. I just
wanted to be liked, and thought the only answer to my problems was to be
skinny.
That summer, I was dancing more than 40 hours a week in
a semi-professional opera, and found it easy to restrict food. Some days
only eating an apple, I lost weight very quickly. I lost 25 pounds in two
months; the people around me thought I was outgrowing my baby fat.
After that summer, I continued with disordered eating
– and swung between binging and restricting. My weight often
fluctuated, but didn’t change too drastically.
Right before grade 12, one of my youth leaders died
from a heart attack. I used her death as an excuse to begin purging. It
began periodically, but by the time grade 12 started, I was purging
everything I ate.
I made a deal with myself that I was not allowed to eat
– but if I did, I would have to purge. I also started punishing
myself every time that I got a bad mark or had a disagreement with a
friend. Cutting and purging took up all of my spare time.
I lost weight very quickly, and was sent to the school
counsellor. With counselling three times a week, my parents were informed
of my issues. I did not want them to worry, so I created a lie – and
pretended to grow out of my issues.
Disordered lifestyle
Living on campus in university brought the ability to
fully embrace a disordered lifestyle. Although I went to a Christian
university, I never truly understood what it meant to be a child of God. I
fully turned against myself and did anything self-destructive that I could.
I would skip class to binge and purge, over-exercise,
or self-harm. My evenings consisted of talking to my friends on pro-eating
disorder websites where we encouraged each other to continue to lose
weight.
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The number on the weight scale determined the outcome
of my day. If it was lower, I was more lenient on myself; but if it stayed
the same or went up, I would find ways to punish myself – to the
extreme of breaking my arm, or chiseling the word ‘fat’ into my
stomach. I often prayed someone would kill me, because I was too afraid to
attempt suicide.
The summer after first year, I gave up. I was seeing a
nutritionist, therapist, doctor, family therapist and psychiatrist
regularly, but nothing seemed to change. The anti-depressants that I had
been put on only made me believe the lie that I was a bad Christian.
I ingested 120 extra-strength Tylenol. I found out
later that the first night in the hospital my blood pressure dropped to
something ridiculous like 30/20; the doctors could not assure my parents I
would make it.
Choosing to get better
I saw how much I had hurt everyone in my life; so I
chose to start getting better – even if it was just to keep them off
my back. I started eating again and allowed myself to continue to gain
weight. I stopped restricting and purged irregularly. I looked as though I
was getting better.
For me, recovery became a game of how well I could fake
being perfect for the day. Those who knew me were separated into two
categories: those who knew the truth and had to deal with my prideful,
attention seeking, self-destructive ways; and those who thought that I had
my life all together.
Things secretly escalated. I was purging up to 23 times
a day – sometimes just drinking water so I would have something to
throw up. My self-harm changed from visible scratches on my wrists to deep
burns and lacerations on my upper arms and stomach.
I regularly abused and over-used laxatives; I would
wake up completely dehydrated, after passing out on the bathroom floor. I
was a textbook case of a full-blown, depressed bulimic.
After a final, unsuccessful attempt to end my life, I
called Mercy Ministries. I had lived a life believing that I had been
created to be rejected, and could not comprehend why anyone would want to
love me.
Over time, I learned in my heart what it means to have
an identity in Christ. Instead of running to staff, I turned to him for my
support. I also learned that he created me and chose me to be here, on
Earth, for such a time as this. He formed me in my mother's womb, and knew
the paths that I would choose – and still promised to love me!
God used Mercy Ministries to save my life. I am so
grateful. I stand here today completely transformed. Statistically
speaking, I was a write-off. I did not expect to still be alive – let
alone free and excited for the future!
Trials and temptations may come; but I have the Greater
One in me, and have been given the tools to make healthy, abundant life
choices.
I choose to stand. I choose to live this life to the
fullest – and to run into the destiny God created me to experience.
Mercy Ministries, based in Surrey plans to open a new
residential facility this spring. For info: www.mercyministries.ca.
January 2009
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