My life began on April 16, 1985 at the Provo Hospital. I’m the youngest of six children. I have two sisters and three brothers. My oldest sister is 16 years older than me and my closest sibling is five years older. I spent the first 14 years of my life in the same neighborhood. I grew up with two friends that I spent most of my time with. One of these friends had cycstic fibrosis. Her disease and treatments of her disease were a very big and normal part of my childhood. I would often help pat her back after her treatments, or get her another cup to spit the mucous from her lungs. We would often have to take breaks in the middle of staircases while she caught her breath. We often spent little time outside in the winter due to the bad air quality. As her disease progressed she had to be on oxygen. That too was a normal part of our play. Also, quite comical when we tried to play hide and seek and realized that her oxygen cord kind of gave her away. I have very fond memories of my two friends, but I also have very hurtful ones. As with most girlfriend triads they just don’t seem to work that great very often. Sadly, I was almost always the one left out and mistreated. I still don’t understand why I didn’t allow myself to make new friends that would treat me nicer. As we matured the meanness lessened and even though my two friends often picked on me I do not hold grudges on them.
When I was in the 6th grade my friend Sarah became more sick. She didn’t have the same energy and needed more oxygen. One night I got a call from her and she asked if I would come “babysit” her. That was the term we used because her parents didn’t like to leave her alone in case an emergency. My 12 years old self at the time was sick of this needy and boring friend whom I’d grown up with. I denied her request. A few short she passed away. It has been a trial in my life to overcome the guilt I felt from that. I’ll never forget the phone call I received that morning. I was the only one home and getting ready for school. I got the call and I sat on the couch alone and grieved. I spent many years grieving her death and the regret I felt.
Backing up a little, I started to develop physically in about 5th grade. I also at the time was accumulating some puberty chub is how I’d like to call it. I was very embarrassed of my body and the maturation that was happening to me. I walked with my shoulders pulled in as much as possible trying to hide myself. I have struggled with posture since. I started my period the summer before seventh grade while on vacation in Catalina. I didn’t tell me mom. I managed using bunched up toilet paper for about two years until telling my mom.
Seventh grade was a very tough year for me. I had attended a private school first through sixth grade so I didn’t know very many people going into seventh grade. I felt alone and socially unaccepted.
I met a boy in the eighth grade and we became boyfriend and girlfriend. This boy had many problems. He was very manipulative and a liar, but I wanted to “save” him. I’d say now I was emotionally abused by him for a couple of years. He later committed suicide after we had been broken up.
Going into tenth grade was amazing. I felt great about myself, sure I still had certain insecurities, but for the most part I felt confident and social. I soon found a new boyfriend who also was emotionally abusive. I felt trapped by him, but I also felt very strongly connected to him.
My parents decided to move me to St. George my junior year to escape my boyfriend and all the problems they wanted to blame on him. St. George was a lonely transition, but I soon found friends that shared my same “brain”.
I met my husband Chaz my junior year of high school in a creative writing class. He sat on the other side of the room and I was infatuated by him. We never spoke and I had learned he was in a current relationship. One day when I came to class I realize he hadn’t been there for awhile and learned he had moved to Colorado. I was so saddened even though I still had had very little communication.
The beginning of my Senior year I was at a party and very drunk. Chaz walked into the house and I was ecstatic!! I told my friend to let him know that I “loved” him! Did I mention I was very drunk? Well, he called me later that week. That was the beginning of a two year relationship. We eventually broke up due to my drug use and unfaithfulness.
Unfortunately, I was on a path of drug addiction and I am blessed that my bottom of drug addiction was a lot higher than others. I new fast that the road I was headed on was not the road I wanted. I was able to get clean through local 12 step groups. Through sobriety I was able to have an amazing experience going to Guatemala for 3 months on a service mission. I met amazing people, did amazing things, and saw amazing places. One of the best experiences of my life.
After coming home from Guatemala I got a job and enrolled in cosmetology. Everything seemed to be really great except I felt awful. I really feel that the environment of cosmetology especially the school I attended was triggering to my eating disorder. It was one of the most depressed I’ve ever experienced. I remember leaving my class and sitting in my car hysterically crying out to God. I felt abandoned. I felt I had done my part and yet I felt so depressed. I’ll never forget the blanket of warmth that embraced me there in the front seat of my car.
During this time of hair school I knew that being in that environment was unhealthy for me so I withdrew from school. My doctor prescribed me some prozac and xanax for anxiety explaining it was the anxiety that was causing my bulimia. Unfortunately, the xanax led me right back out to Heroin. My parents flew me out to Malaysia where they were serving a mission. I was able to live with them for about 6 weeks and again have more amazing experiences. I flew home and checked right into a drug rehab and walked out at 22 days. Literally, I walked. I left the premise and I walked probably about 5 miles to the nearest gas station where I could make a call. I’ll never forget the last thing a staff member said to me. He said “If you walk out of here right now, you will die.” Which of course only made me more angry and happy to leave.
Leaving the treatment center I got back in contact with Chaz. I was sick of having a ball and chain with my parents who provided everything for me. Therefore I had no choices of my own without consequences from them. I spoke with chaz who had an extra room at the house he was renting with some friends and decided to move in with them. I had relapsed back to drugs and alcohol and I was pregnant within a week of moving in with him. Pregnancy for me at the time was a gift from God and I truly believe that. It turned mine and Chaz’s lives around in an instance and neither of us looked back to that lifestyle.
Pregnancy was a great thing for my eating disorder, so I thought. It took my appetite away the first trimester and I was so fearful of gaining weight I followed a very restrictive regimen of calorie counting and exercise. After having my daughter I was the thinnest I had ever been and I loved it. Despite the constant comments from my husband and family that I was too thin and need to put on some weight. I sloughed off their comments. Truly I felt like life really turned for the worse when i got pregnant with my second son. My appetite was ravenous and it was the first time I actually planned a binge and purge.
I feel like ever since 2008 my life has been literally nothing than ED. From the moment I wake until the moment I sleep. Even my dreams are consumed with ED. In the meantime I managed to have another baby and somehow have kept them alive. My eating disorder has robbed me, my children and my husband. I have spent a lot of precious time locked into a bathroom instead of spending time with my kids.
I have a memory of a time that I was in the bathroom. We had a vanity that was open and the toilet was behind a door. My 18 month old daughter at the time opened one of the vanity drawers while I was in the bathroom preventing me from opening the door to get out. It was such a reality check for me.
What bothers me most is the time I feel I’ve been robbed of. It was a depressing day when I turned 30. I always imagined that time would naturally heal me and turning 30 I realized that I had gone no where in the last 10 years and it was painful.
This last year I have rediscovered substances and alcohol. I got to a point in my life where I didn’t care if I was becoming an alcoholic, or damaging my body taking other ridiculously damaging things. I didn’t care because if it let me escape bulimia it was worth it. Nothing is worse than bulimia I feel.
I did something this last fall that hurts so intensely. I had a tubal ligation done. The real and true motive behind it was 1. hope that I would go under and not come back and or 2. I would be given some percocets. I have taken away my body’s ability for children just because of my addictions.
There are irreversible damage that I have done to myself and it hurts really bad, but the only way to move on is to accept it. I have so many dreams for myself and I know the life I want and should be living. I’m embracing every moment of recovery and a chance to get my life back. I look forward to the success and change I can do in this world. I know I have worth and I have something to give.
