At my primary school, if you were one of the girls who had hit puberty early or were over a certain weight, it was shocking, embarrassing and what’s known as "social suicide". To this day, it scares me to remember that when I was around 8 or 9 years old, i went over to a friend’s house and we had weighed each other! Although the number didn't affect me, we were so young to be even interested in what the number read. What did affect me was being bullied. Until year 5 or 6, I was never the popular girl and always thought i was different to every other girl because i was different looking. I had tanned, olive skin (which I’ve only come to appreciate now) and chocolate brown eyes whilst everyone had fair skin and blue eyes. Friendships changed all the time at my primary school. Each day, I'd have a new best friend and a new enemy. I came from a very small primary school (around 120 kids altogether) so it was hard to find a new friend if you'd just had a fight. In addition, I was never the smart girl either and that’s another reason why i was bullied by a boy in my year. I was also a bit of a wimp and cried if I didn't understand a maths problem which didn't help my case.

I eventually became really good friends with two popular girls in my year. In the past, we had our fights but I was willing to move on. They gave me the best two years of my life! Thanks to them, they made graduating school enjoyable and extremely missed. Even the boy who used to bully me, became one of my best friends and one of the funniest people I knew. Life was so great and I loved every minute of it. I enjoyed school a lot and I was so confident because I had a lot of friends even out of school. Which brings me to a new topic. My good friend out of school. She's been my best friend for 14 years (off and on) and still to this day. Our mums are really good friends and our brothers went to school together so we've known each other our whole lives. She was always the chubby, funny girl with all the jokes. I was always the tall, lean girl with all the giggles. I thought this was always how it would be. Then during primary, she decided she wanted to lose a few pounds, to be healthy which was great, but then something went wrong. A little demon got to her. A little demon called Anorexia. I had no idea she even had it. I thought she had gone crazy and I hated her for being like this- exercising all the time, wanting to be something she wasn't. I judged her without knowing what she was actually going through. I use to say to my mum, "can't she just eat?” and it’s only until now do I realise it’s not that simple. It’s far more extreme than just putting food in your mouth. 

I found high school really hard. Not only was I struggling friendship wise with my poor friend obeying anorexia, I was put in a class where I knew no-one except a quiet Asian girl from my primary school. All my other friends were together except me. Excluded again. Like primary all over again, I thought. I learnt that this was one of the best things that could've happened to me! I made new friends quickly and really liked my teachers. As for my primary friends, some stuck together; others found another group. I felt hopeless in trying to help my friend battle anorexia because I had no clue what it was she was fighting so therefore I gave up in trying to be her friend which is something someone should never do. We were drifting and she hated my "healthy eating". I've always loved food and plenty of it, especially fruit and all I wanted to be was simply healthy but she saw this as competition. 

I wasn't the popular girl in high school because there were so many bigger, over-exaggerated personalities. But I was happy and that was all that mattered. The new people in my class became my best friends in year 7. In summer, I'd go to the beach everyday of the with a funny, new girl I'd met from high school. It was the best days of my life! I've always loved the ocean. I was born and raised around it. It’s a 5 minute drive from my house. When I was a little girl, mum would take my brother and I down there all the time but during the bad stages of primary I let go of the ocean, not by force, it just became a low priority and I didn't have the confidence or friends to go down there with. Anyway, during that summer I was so happy and didn't care what anyone thought. During this summer, I decided to take up more exercise as I'd given up sport when i got to high school to focus more on schoolwork and eating really healthy to lose maybe 5 kilos or so. Mum encouraged me and said it was great. I loved doing my daily routine. As always holiday’s end, so school came. Year 8. It was a big change for me. The feeling of not being the baby of the school felt really weird for me, it was like now you’re not cared for or protected because you’re growing up. I was always putting myself down saying stupid things like I’m not the favourite child and that I’m probably going to end up having a crap job when I’m older. I never told anyone how I was feeling because I thought I’d get judged or that no-one cared to listen. Anorexia took advantage of this feeling and made the rest of the year miserable and lonely. It was winter when it got bad. I had never thought I was ugly or fat, even when i was incredibly sick, i just thought a couple of kilos off would look better. Then i thought to myself that if I got just below what is deemed as underweight, then if I ate something fatty, I still wouldn’t be overweight. That number on the scale fell lower and lower. I was losing more and more weight. I couldn't stop myself. I remember a lot of the time when my mum used to ask me if i was okay whilst exercising that would make me so angry. I liked people thinking I was happy all the time and had no other emotions but being constantly happy. So I laughed it off to and said "Yeah, mum don't worry I'm fine". I was also so paranoid. I loathed with a passion being asked how I was or even simply spoken to. My friends never noticed how sick or sad I was because I was such a good liar.

I'll never forget one day whilst waiting at the bus stop to go home, my ex-bestfriend, the one who had suffered from anorexia approached me and asked me if I was okay. I hadn’t spoken to her in ages but I knew what she meant by "okay". I told her I'd been taking up swimming with my dad and that I was fine. She told me that when she went through, what she called a "hard time" (meaning anorexia ) it was the worst thing that could’ve happened to her and that she'd never wish it upon anyone, especially me. And again, it’s only until now that i realise what she means. It’s awful to have all your thoughts and energy wasted on counting calories, kilojoules and fat. But at the time, I didn't know what anorexia was. I had turned 13, I was just a baby. I thought what I was doing was right; eating clean and exercising a lot. 

So this kept on until my mum pulled me aside one day and told me how thin I was. She made me put on underwear and clothes that use to fit me perfectly but now just looked way too big. I didn't like nor hate what I saw because I didn't feel anything, ever. It was like I was numb and my only thoughts revolved around my exercise. Mum made appointments for this physiologist who diagnosed me with anorexia and provoked my mum in taking away all my exercise. This made the demon inside me furious so I turned to other destructive coping mechanisms because I knew my exercise was forbidden. I had never done this before as calories had never concerned me because I had my exercise but now that that was gone I felt like it was the only option i had. By doing this, it lead to me being extremely depressed. I use to wake up and go to bed saying horrifying things like "I wish I didn't wake up". I remember this like it was yesterday. The sadness and the pain. 

The physiologists then referred me to the Sydney Children's Hospital and that'll be the day I'll never forget.

It was the 4th of October, 2011 when I entered this hospital. My mum and I expected to come back home with a meal plan, telling me when and what to eat which I was actually excited about. We never saw what was about to hit us. The doctor and dietician called us in to their room and told me that I couldn't go back home because I was too sick to walk. My heart beat was beating on 20 beats per minute when it should've been 60 or above. I remember being so heart broken and asking if I could just go back home to pack and say goodbye to the rest of my family. They told me I wouldn't be going back home for another 4-6 weeks. I was put in this black wheelchair whilst waiting until 3pm for a bed as the ED (eating disorder) ward was full. The look on my mums face was shattered. I couldn't help but feel guilty and said sorry every few minutes. She rang my brother to tell him the bad news. I haven't really spoken about my brother before but he is a very sensitive, anxious person. He couldn't take the news and hung up because he heard the tears coming from mum. I felt like I had made a huge mistake. I promised myself to get better and swore I'd eat everything and do anything to get better. I only realise now that thinking like that was wrong because to fully recover you need to do it for YOURSELF first. So 3pm came and I got a private room all to myself, not in the ED ward, it was still too full. I felt welcomed by all the nurses. They made me feel safe and secure, something I hadn't felt in a long time. These two bright, bubbly nurses came in and told me they had to have a tube put in my nose. My immediate thought was ”Please don't, I’ll just eat 24/7. Just please don't put that thing in my nose". I didn't want to be one of those girls I'd seen who had anorexia and had the tube.  Not only was it annoying but the feeling of having the tube up my nose all the way down to my stomach made me feel sick. It was like having a tissue up your nose all the time. When mum came back, she saw a sick, lifeless girl with a tube in her nose. Although she never said anything, she was scared. She wasn't allowed to stay the whole night which made me angry. That night's sleep was awful because it was the first time they hooked me up to a heart monitor and fed me me through my tube. Going to the toilet was a pain because it meant buzzing for a nurse to put me in a wheelchair even though I had a toilet in my room and was about two steps away from it. I was so sick they thought I may collapse in the bathroom. I didn't want to be a burden to the nurses so I held it in for as long as possible. 

The next day, which seemed to take forever to come, I was moved to the ED ward. There were 2 girls and a boy. They were extremely welcoming. However, I hated not being alone and in my own private room. I didn't want to talk or socialize with them, i was still very sick especially psychologically. Although they were nice and tried to make me feel as included as possible, I was and felt on the outer. I felt awkward; all my social skills had gone due to lack of communication with people. I was also the youngest of all of them. The 3 of them had gotten to know each other, spent time together and were comfortable with each other. It took me about a week or so to feel comfortable and be able to be myself and have a laugh with them. When i got to know them, they made my hospital time so amazing and fly by. We encouraged each other to stay strong. 

I never really knew what coming home permanent would mean and I never really thought about it because it never occurred to me because I was constantly doing things. If I wasn't getting my bloods taken then I'd be getting my temperature measured or if I wasn't doing that i'd be at school or watching a movie. I never really thought about being discharged because each day,I was still thinking to myself, "am i really in hospital? " Even now, I'm still in shock that I was in hospital.

So when I was discharged, I didn't know what it'd be like. Besides from a weekend leave the week before I was discharged I had no contact with where I came from except from a visit from my friends and plenty of visits from my family. I thought everything would be perfect when I got home. That I'd be happy like I was when I was with the people from my ward but that wasn't the case. I felt like all eyes where on me when I ate and that the only topic on conversation was food. I didn't know at the time, but feeling like that was normal because I went from being one of four patients nurses had to keep an eye on whilst eating to having full attention on me when I got home. I decided to make my own memories for the rest of the year I had left and the years to come. It took me along time to find my feet after returning home for good. 

Before my eating disorder really took control of me, I loved drawing and making things especially cards for other people so I found my passion for creativity again and decorated my wall with encouraging quotes and drawings I made. Every day, I make one origami butterfly in honour of the girl in my ED ward that made origami cranes and The Butterfly Foundation, a foundation which supports Australians with eating disorders. I also read my angel cards daily to seek help and guidance. It's something I love doing and I do it because it’s something for me not anyone else. I spent too much time in the past trying to please others and make other people happy without doing what I wanted or doing what made me happy.

I look at my eating disorder now as a blessing in disguise because it has made me stronger. It took me months to come out and say I had anorexia, I was ashamed and thought people would judge me. I have definitely built up more confidence thanks to the support of my family and close friends. As I said before, it took me a long time to find my feet but I’ve really discovered who I am. I found myself enjoying writing so I keep a diary and write in it daily about the ups and lows of the day. I've learnt how I enjoy being alone, not all the time but having time to read a good book or spend time with my mum. I've re-connected with my mum again and she's become my home-therapist for me instead of keeping my feelings bottled up inside. I'm not going to lie and say life's perfect and that I'm sunshine all day everyday because that’s certainly not the case. I have trouble with making decisions on portion size and how much exercise i should be doing if its up to me. I struggle with stress; it gets the better of me and makes me extremely angry. I also find hard to see that when one little thing goes wrong, it doesn't mean the whole world is against me. Obviously, I have insecurities and imperfections because everyone in the world does but I'm learning that no matter how I look, people will always judge and that I shouldn't care what people who I don't even know nor like have to say about me. And as Dr Seuss said "Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." 

So as you can see I'm not fully recovered but I'm on the right track. I like having my mum organise my meals and decide how much yoga and walking I do because I feel safe to know I’m in good hands. But one day I know I’ll be able to pour my own cereal without thinking I’ve put in too much or too little and then panicking. One day, I'm going to choose the exercise I want and do it because I love it. I know one day I’ll be able to wake up and say "I'm recovered completely", it may take months and possibly even years but one day I will get there.