“Why do you write?” Oddly enough, I love this question. I love this question because until sitting down and thinking about my answer I failed to realize what a huge impact writing has had on my life. As a little girl, I loved to write. When I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my response was always, “an author and a poet.” I was sure of it; Or at least I thought I was…

 

      It started when I was twelve years old, I found it extremely difficult to accept my body as it was. I joined a gym and began a diet. By the time I was 15 I had joined Weight Watchers because my mom said, “If you want to learn to be healthy than that’s fine, but I don’t want you doing something dangerous to lose weight.” Oh the Irony… I was a naturally small girl and was at the ideal weight for my height but, I just wasn’t happy. My doctor agreed to sign a note saying its safe for my goal to be 5 pounds at max. I handed it to the front desk at Weight Watchers and from there my journey began.

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       At 15 years old I decided, forget the writing, I am going to be a nutritionist. I figured, if I were to be a nutritionist I would have even more incentive to be skinny because, who wants to see a fat nutritionist?! My first year on weight watchers was very unsuccessful, but I loved the support system I had here.

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      By the time I was 16 I had it all figured out…40 pounds down in just 3 months. I cracked the system…I knew every trick in the book and I was gd damn proud of myself. I was the fitness and nutrition guru, writing was a thing of the past—a lost hobby per se.

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      At 5 foot 7 and under 100 pounds’ people began to question my safety. I was light headed, spent a minimum of 3 hours a day at the gym, and my hair was thinning. I was constantly shivering and refusing to go out to eat with my family. They realized it was time to intervene. At the age of 16 I was officially diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and had found a team of doctors dedicated to helping me recover.

     By the age of 17 my disorder continued to worsen as I lost 16 more pounds and identified myself as the fitness girl. I truly felt it was all I had in life, it was all that I was good at. I was scared to eat, scared to gain weight, and scared of how narrow my life had become.

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      I went off to college having finally gained a bit of weight but I was in no way, shape, or form healthy. Mentally, I was a train wreck. Most days I couldn’t get myself to go to class I would either end up at the gym instead or stay in my room and hide from the world.

 

       The Summer of my 18th birthday I went to an intensive outpatient program in NYC. I spent 15 hours a week here and was forced to eat 3 meals a week here. I cried, I tried to cheat, I tried to quit. This wasn’t the girl I used to be…what happened to me? I was told time and time again to journal my thoughts, to write them out and see where it left me yet somehow I always resisted. I just didn’t see the point.

      At age 19 I had been weight restored. I had such bad body image that I was constantly depressed and constantly wishing I would get some sort of illness and lose all the weight. By the end of first semester, my boyfriend and I had broken up and I had to say goodbye to someone I once loved… I didn’t know what to do with myself. He was the one I went to when I needed to talk

 

      Three months had past and February 24th had rolled around. It was National Eating Disorder Awareness week and there were so many thoughts inside my head. I took out my computer and began to type. I put my story, my thoughts, my fears, and everything inside me out on paper. Everything I tried so hard to internalize was now external. It was released. It was February 25th at 1:00pm when I made decision...Publish. I shut my computer and turned off my phone for the next hour as I sat in my lecture. Once it had ended I opened my computer and found an outpouring of messages, “likes”, comments, and shares on my recent odyssey post. It was titled, “I cannot believe I’m posting this.”

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        The day I sent that story live was the day, I finally began my true journey to recovery. My eating disorder was no longer my weakness or my secret. It revealed to me my strengths as I so desperately wanted to get out of this disorder and give hope to all those who were struggling.

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      Today I sit here, a 21 year-old, healthy girl and I can confidently say that I have never been better. Though this disorder is something that will always be a part of me, it is not my life and it is not my identity. I am not anorexic, I struggled with anorexia. I am not the health and fitness girl, I am Sam, a girl who enjoys many things including living a healthy-balanced life. I owe all these discoveries to writing. Voicing what I thought was my weakness helped me discover that I did have strength. It helped me remember that before this disorder, there were activities that I loved, people I cared for, and past–times I once enjoyed. Writing helped me remember. Writing allowed me to share my story rather than hide behind it. Writing gave me purpose.    

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      Since that one article, I have published several others and received messages from people from all over the US. People were thanking me for sharing my story and for reminding them that they were not alone in this battle. People began to message me when they needed someone to talk to or simply needed advice, and I was honored to be that person.

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      I like to believe that my writing is good for reaching out to others and reminding people that there is always so much more to life. My writing is useful in helping me understand my own thoughts, feelings, and actions. It motivates me to live the life I want to live, look back on my journey, and remember to keep moving forward.

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       I write to be sane, to be healthy, and to be the most authentic version of myself.