Nothing can snap you back to reality quicker than a 6'4, tattooed, built man crying at the edge of your bed because he's afraid of losing his daughter--afraid of losing you. Even now I can only recall my father crying twice during my lifetime; once when our family dog of 10 years passed, and at 16 years old on the night of my diagnoses.
I'd been struggling with depression and anxiety long before that, and while having recently moved did impact me greatly, it was nothing new. My newly developed eating habits however, quickly became an issue. I had struggled with my body image, as most teenage girls do, and upon finding out I had gained weight (something I now know was perfectly normal), I began working out and watching my diet. While at first I was heavily encouraged, it soon led down a dark, isolated path that I didn't know if I'd ever be able to escape. My life became consumed at the idea of loosing weight; any moment I was sitting was a moment I was gaining weight.
My eating disorder progressed like a dark shadow looming over me, taking over my mind and my body one day at a time, until I was just a bystander in my own body, watching this monster control my life.
While the physical aspect of anorexia is awful-- you become a walking skeleton, constantly exhausted, hungry, cramping, and weak, the emotional aspect is what took the greatest toll. Not just on me, but on those I loved.
I was struggling with anorexia for 2 years before I was officially diagnosed and began treatment, and deep down I knew what I was doing was wrong the entire time. I knew my mindset wasn't healthy, but by the time I acknowledged it, it was too late, and the shadow had taken control. Even that day at the doctor, when they were discussing treatment with my parents I refused to believe it was that bad. The shadow was all I had, and I didn't know who I'd be without it. When we got home all I remember is feeling angry. Angry at the doctor, angry at my parents for making me eat something with substance, angry at everyone, because no one could possibly understand. I went to my room as soon as I could, and cried in the dark for what felt like hours.
Until my dad came in.
Originally prepared to get scolded for behaving so irrationally, I put on my stone face, refusing to budge. But then I heard the defeated sigh, and the six words choking back tears that changed my life--
"I can't lose my little girl." It was that second that the shadow melted away, and I returned to my body.
I walked out of my room, and sat down to eat dinner, having no clue how many calories were in my meal.
It wasn't an automatic switch, I don't think anything ever is. I still had a lot of bad days, panic attacks, restriction, and so forth, but every time I started to feel the shadow start taking over, I remembered my dad.
It took about 2 years of recovery and managing my eating/thoughts to get to a physically healthy point, where I was able to discuss other issues with my therapist. I allowed myself to begin antidepressants, and for the first time I actually felt good. I was able to enjoy being around those I cared about, began socializing at my new school, and began opening up to other people.
During this time, I was also an editor in my high school newspaper. I started writing articles on eating disorders and mental illness' to inform people of the topic and how to get help. Even now I'm a heavy advocate for body positivity, and bringing awareness to mental illness.
If it weren't for my dad talking to me that day, I would be nowhere near where I am now. I wouldn't have recovered enough to focus on and enjoy school, let alone get in to UC Davis and begin studying genetics. I've stopped using social media as often as I used to, and have learned to love and appreciate my life in the moment. I go on hikes and enjoy my time in nature, and I never let a day pass where I don't talk to friends and family, or learn something new. I focus more on enjoying my life and what I'm learning, rather than being perfect at everything I do, because the reality is, I'm never going to be perfect, and I'm okay with that.