When I was invited to my school friends’ houses, I had uncontrollable cravings to eat. I would go to the kitchen and steal sweets, chips, candies, anything I could find, and devour it all quickly, being careful not to be discovered.
During high school, these binging episodes became more and more frequent, even at night. I would get up, go to the kitchen, and eat in secret. My body was changing, I was gaining weight, and I couldn’t stand my image in the mirror anymore. I wanted to be pretty, I liked tight clothes and short skirts, but I felt terrible. I wanted boys to look at me and I tried to lose weight to no avail.
Then, one day a friend of mine told me that there was a solution: “stick two fingers down your throat and vomit.”
One day, however, my brother found out and told my parents everything.
My mother sent me to a psychologist but it didn’t help. Even though my family was caring and kind to me, I couldn’t control my crises. I felt guilty, I was so ashamed. I felt bad, I felt deeply alone and misunderstood. I had a big void inside of me that I desperately filled with food.
In my senior year of high school, I went to study in England for a year. I thought that in a new place, far away from my parents, meeting new people, I could start a new life and my illness would disappear. It was a big mistake, the bulimia attacks got worse and it was a terrible year.
When I came back I was desperate, but more aware that I could never do it alone. I went to an eating disorder center where I started a therapy program with a team of trained psychologists, psychiatrists, and nutritionists.
For the first time, I felt understood, accepted, and no longer alone. I met many girls like me, and their stories, their results give me the strength and hope to overcome this illness.
This center saved my life, I realized that I would never have gotten out of this hell on my own. I know I’m not cured yet, but I’m much better and I know I’m on the right track.