I don't like it when people pass me in the lunch room and say "Did you remember to eat today Sierra?" It's overbearing and annoying. They act like my parents (who also do that) and I hate it. Though they do it for the well being of myself, it gets on my nerves.
REWIND:
Early May 2009, I started to feel sick. Every year I get a stomach bug so I assumed it was that. It was the first weekend in May and it was also my father and my brother's birthday weekend, so we had a whole bunch of people over at our house. I tried eat as much as I could, but my stomach bothered me so badly I was crying my eyes dry. It was terrible.
The next monday was a schorchering hot day. I played modified softball for school and I had a game that day. I am extreamly athletic and pretty good at it too. I was the best pitcher in the school (I attend a small school). Long story short, I had all of a few pieces of bread the 2 days before the game and passed out in the 7th inning of my game on the mound. The ball was deep into the outfield. I whipped my head around and the next thing I know everything is spinning and I wind myself laying on the dirt with my coach, my mother and my aunt standing over me. I was rushed home quickly as possible and put in a cold shower. Screaming bloody murder and tears pooring down my face thinking "what is going on?" Meanwhile, my mother is on the phone with the doctor who can hear me in the background. The doctor said that by the way my mother described the situation, I need to get to the hospital immediatly.
HOSPITAL?! I've never been there for a real emergency! As fast as he could, my father raced the car to the hospital and I was taken in and put on a stretcher. I was sleeping like a little baby on that thing. When I woke up I was on a stretcher in the hospital hallway with an IV stuck into my arm and a doctor and my parents standing over me.
"What's going on?" I asked in confustion.
"We're at the hospital," my dad replied. "You passed out in your game."
Three hours later the doctor came to the conclusion that it was heat exhaustion and dehydration (of water and food) that I passed out from.
So what does this story have to do with struggling with myself? Well, all of May, June and most of July, I deprived myself of food and water. I had extreame stomach pains which were so bad sometimes I couldn't walk. I landed my self in the hospital seven times, with five IV's, a cat scan, two ultra sounds, and a bunch of other fancy tests that made a dent in our health insurance.
In the end I ended up going to a coucler for my eating and we figured it out after three months. She diagnosed me with depression after my dramatic break up with my boyfriend. My depression made me want to take on more things which made me stressed and made my mind have racing thoughts. Most of them about why I don't have a boyfriend. I came to the conclusion that I was too fat for anyboy and if I stopped eating that maybe I would lose weight. Yep, I was annorexic. Legit annorexic.
That summer I met an amazing guy, who like me for who I was. I regained the wieght that I had lost while I wasn't eating and it was all okay.
Today, I have a boyfriend and I joined the cross country team and started to lose some wieght. I'm happy with myself and my body. Sure enough I would love to lose some wieght so maybe I could wear a bikini this summer, but it's not at the top of my list.
Before I wrap this little fairytale life story thing up, I'd just like to say. If my friend Melanie hadn't told my mom that I haden't been eating, my parents wouldn't have known that their perfect daughter was losing her mind.
That day when I admitted to being annorexic, I had a major life check. I couldn't believe the things I did just to look good. Looking back, I feel really stupid and honestly I would have kept it up if Melanie hadn't told.
In a way this is my thank you to her.
I'm still watched by everyone about what I eat, and the stomach pains start to come back sometimes. But when they do, I get this vision in my head of me on the mound. Whipping my head around, collapsing, and waking up with a crowd over my head. It scares me sometimes, to even think that I would do that to myself.