This ... is the beginning

My story took roots as a fourteen year old girl who portrayed everything positive on the outside but was plagued with the darkness of a lost soul filled with self-loathing. I always felt like a pariah, never fitting in with family nor friends, forever an outcast. I suffered from a dark depression for as long as I could remember. My public persona was perfect and I excelled at everything I undertook. An honour student, an above average pianist, the star of the fastball team, and the virtuoso of my strict ballet teacher. Perfectionism was my driver, and I refused to fail at anything.

As a young teenage girl, I was babysitting my younger cousins one Saturday night. Once all my chores were complete, and the kids asleep in their beds, I decided to pull out the new book I had just borrowed from the library and spend the rest of the evening indulging in my favourite past-time. I was intrigued by the title of the book and looked forward to cuddling up under the blankets on the sofa while I awaited my aunt and uncle's return. My book of choice that evening was a fictional story of a young girl suffering from anorexia nervosa – an illness little acknowledged and even less understood at the time. The title of the book was "The Best Little Girl in the World," and as I sat all alone in the dimly lit living room, I was grazed by the chilling talons of the disease. An ominous voice whispered a message to me which would take years to manifest > WOW, IT WOULD BE GREAT TO HAVE THIS DISEASE ... TO HAVE CONTROL OVER EVERYTHING ... AND EVERYONE WOULD WORRY FOR ME, AND LOVE ME <

Fast forward four years and I was a successful eighteen year old in my first year of university, living in residence with lots of friends, studying my passion and dating the BMOC – Big Man On Campus. I was the envy of many. But an off-hand, and seemingly innocent, remark from the love of my life would rekindle the flames of despair within my soul and careen me down a dark and tragic path.

I had unfortunately gained the typical ten pounds in my first year living in university residence. Eating the starchy food and not maintaining the active lifestyle that I had in high school had resulted in what my boyfriend casually dubbed my "Dairy Queen legs," which I perceived as his disgust with my fat thighs; yet looking back now, I realise was meant as a term of endearment. I made the vow to myself to return to the tall, slim and desirable young woman I started university as – the one who caught JT's eye. I cut out all dairy products, carbohydrates/starches and meat from my diet, and started a rigorous exercise regime. I was not alone in my quest to lose weight. Residence was full of (mostly) girls who felt they were not their ideal weight. There was an undercurrent of competition to be the prettiest and the thinnest. As now, the media at that time glorified slim physiques, and the exercise craze of the 'eighties' was exemplified in movies and magazines. However, being the perfectionist that I was, I was determined to lose the weight quicker and more successfully than any of my fellow co-eds.

I pursued my quest easily throughout my summer back home with my family, typically staying under the radar of their concern. I would claim I worked one hour later than I actually did and snuck a five mile run in before going home. It was easy to say that I was meeting friends for dinner to get out of having to join my family for the evening meal, thereby allowing myself time to also fit in an aerobics dance class along with my daily run. The extra pounds were easily dropped, and this so encouraged me that I decided I should lose extra weight to combat any I may gain back upon my return to residence for my second year.. > SO YOU LOST A COUPLE POUNDS ... BIG DEAL ... YOU'RE STILL SUCH A FAT PIG AND WILL GAIN THEM ALL BACK ... THEN WHO WILL LOVE YOU ... NOBODY ... NOBODY LOVES YOU <

I had the perfect summer job working in an office with many (male) engineering students. My summer goal of physical perfection was driven by my need to be invited into this group of desirable young men! I was faithful to my boyfriend JT – at the time I thought that he was my true love - but I needed the constant affirmation of my attractiveness and enjoyed the attention these guys showed me. Every weekend was spent partying with my new friends, or going out dancing at the clubs and having all my drinks paid for.

DEMON thought he was cunning enough to have duped my parents and I thought I was sailing through my summer back home, keeping my dark secret hidden. Mom is a very perceptive person – like most mothers are – and she realised something was not quite right. Thinking my weight-loss and exacerbated isolation from my family was depression-driven (which I suppose it partially was), she tearfully requested that I meet with a psychiatrist. After only a couple of sessions, Dr. L. convinced her that I needed to be hospitalized. I agreed, DEMON laughing inside me, proud of the fact that my eating disorder was concealed and the emphasis was placed on depression. > WOW ARE THESE PEOPLE EVER STUPID ... THEY CAN'T SEE WHAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM < I viewed my impending week in the hospital as a holiday from work and pranced onto the psych ward with a gleam in my eye and strategy in my heart. Once admitted, I was easily lost in the shuffle of the more serious cases and could pretty much do as I wanted. I was not placed under the same restrictions as the other psych patients, as I was not considered a threat to myself or others. I had to put up with a couple of consultations with Dr. L., but he was not as tuned in to me as he was with his other responsibilities, and DEMON humoured his weak requirements of me. The anti-depressant medication I was given was hidden under my tongue and quickly spit in the toilet once the nurse left my room. > YOU DON'T NEED THIS SHIT ... IT WILL TAKE AWAY YOUR CONTROL ... BE STRONG ... SPIT IT OUT <

This was also the time that I decided to take up smoking. Everyone on the psych ward smoked and I quickly realised that cigarettes would temporarily stave off any feelings of hunger. I was sitting in the lounge up on the ward visiting with the other patients watching TV and having a cigarette one afternoon when my Mom popped in for an unexpected visit. As soon as I saw her round the corner I threw my cigarette into the ashtray, hoping I had managed to conceal it from her. I am unsure if I was successful, but she did not say anything about it to me. Mom was quite efficient by that point at ignoring things she did not want to know about. DEMON picked up on this and was encouraged in his efforts to mislead her in the future. >HA ... YOU GOT AWAY WITH THIS ... SHE'LL NEVER FIGURE THINGS OUT <

I was very friendly and jovial during my time in the hospital, as I had to prove that I was not suffering from depression, and made friends with a number of the patients. One girl, Barb, was close to my age and was in the hospital because of a suicide attempt. We became close and were the two radicals on the ward, quietly breaking any rule that we could. > YOU DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO THEM ... THEY DON'T CONTROL YOU ... YOU CONTROL THEM ... GO < We even managed to escape the confines of the hospital a couple of times and spend a few hours roaming free at the mall across the street from the hospital. Patients on the psych ward were allowed to wear regular clothes if they wished - there were no requirements for the hospital gowns as on other wards - and Barb and I would disappear stealthily down the stairwell and out the front entrance of the hospital. Obviously this hospital stay was not effective at all for my recovery, and Dr. L. discharged me a week later with "no sign of my previous depression apparent." I went back to work, no-one the wiser as to where I spent my 'vacation,' and I resumed life as I knew it.

Upon my return to university for year two, my determination and efforts to lose weight were rewarded by JT's renewed commitment to our relationship, as well as compliments cast my way by other guys; > TOLD YOU HE WOULD ONLY LOVE YOU IF YOU ARE SKINNY < but even more so by the (mostly) covert glares of jealousy from the other girls. I was winning the (furtive) competition; I was the slimmest, the most successful dieter, the most desirable!

However, with every mile run – I was now up to ten miles a day, run mostly during the late night hours around the dark university campus – and with every pound dropped, the more entrenched in this disease I became. It was getting so difficult to concentrate on my studies with my mind being consumed with thoughts of food and DEMON'S negative comments. The voices in my head were relentless, and I never had a chance to think thoughts of my own choice. Both body and mind had been taken over by this disease, and my spirit was crushed. I was constantly planning what was 'safe' to eat, how many calories I would be forced to ingest, and how many extra miles I would have to run to work them off. I knew the caloric count of everything, from a baked potato to a glass of milk to a piece of licorice. I relied on cigarettes and Diet Coke to carry me through the hunger pains. JT and some close friends noticed not only my continued weight loss but also a change in my personality. I was very moody and quick to anger or tears. I was always cold, dressed in layers of baggy clothing to hide my physique, which I justified by the cold winter weather. My 'manageable' decline in weight and descent into my personal hell was still mostly hidden though, or so I thought ...

My first intervention happened when my RA (Residents' Assistant) Shelley invited me into her room for a 'chat.' Waiting for me were three of my closest friends who quickly bombarded me with questions and concern. They were worried about how little I was eating, about my solo, late-night runs around the university campus and my growing seclusion from 'the group.' I almost, almost, gave in and admitted my fear of what was happening to me, but DEMON quickly took control of the situation > THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND ... THEY WILL MAKE YOU EAT ... THEY WANT YOU TO BE FAT ... DON'T LISTEN TO THEM < and I turned on the tears and explained it all away as the stress of university life.

A couple of my close friends from high school, Val and Joanne, came for a visit during their Reading Week at University of Alberta. I had a wonderful time introducing them to my friends, and they got a great taste of residence life. What mostly stands out for me though was Joanne bringing me a pair of jeans from back home that I hadn't fit in since I last wore them in high school. They were one of my favourite jeans and I was anxious to have them with me at university, and was excited to see if I had lost enough weight to fit in to them again. I remember trying them on and they literally fell off me...they were way too big! DEMON was so proud of me and I basked in the glow of my (over) accomplishment. It was with great pride that I handed the jeans back to Joanne to return to my home, and I decided that the three of us needed to go on a shopping spree before they left. After all, I had worked very hard and was so committed to losing weight that I needed to show off my new figure in skin-tight jeans. > SIZE 3?? YOU FAT PIG ... WHO WILL LOVE YOU NOW? <

My quest for popularity culminated near the end of second year with my decision to run for President of the Residence Students' Union. I campaigned diligently and was rewarded with a landslide victory over my opponents. This was another affirmation by DEMON that I was doing the right thing ... skinniest = most popular = President! This was a coveted position as all the students knew the President and looked upon her as the 'Queen of Rez.' I was walking on clouds and had an amazing third year to look forward to. This win caused me to change my earlier plans of moving out of residence and into an apartment with JT and his sister, whom I was close friends with. > THEY WILL TAKE AWAY YOUR CONTROL ... THEY DON'T LOVE YOU ... THEY JUST WANT YOU FAT SO THEY CAN LEAVE YOU < This became a significant turning point in my decline. I believe that staying in residence for a third year exacerbated my decline and if I would have stayed with my initial plan of moving out, the anorexia may not have kept such a strong hold on me nor progressed as far as it did.

'Color Night' was the big formal event in residence, honouring the out-going Student Executive Committee and welcoming the incoming. This was to be my big event and I was very much looking forward to it as this was my moment to shine! However, I would soon see that my 'gravy train' could derail ... and disastrously!

Thinking back on this night, I have to remind myself that my brain was so pre-occupied with thoughts of food that I wasn't thinking rationally. Of course, being a university event, the beer was flowing steadily and I had 'pre-partied' extensively before the formal evening began. And being a light-weight (literally), it didn't take much to become inebriated. At one point during the festivities, I saw my JT dancing with another girl. > TOLD YOU THAT YOU ARE TOO FAT AND UGLY ... HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU ... HE WOULD NEVER LOVE A PIG < Now this was not tragic in itself, as it was quite common for guys and girls to dance together even if they weren't boyfriend/girlfriend, but I was furious and lost any rational part of my brain that was still functioning. I ran up to him, slapped him across the face, flung the diamond promise ring he had given me the previous Christmas, and ran off the dance floor in tears, making an absolute spectacle of us both. But I didn't stop there. I ran back to my room, grabbed JT's sweatshirt and a glass of water, and went into the stairwell to light his shirt on fire. > SHOW HIM WHO CONTROLS WHO < Imagine the look of horror on the face of the shy Asian student as she ascended the stairs and came across the maniacal new president, standing over a piece of burning clothing holding a glass of water in case the fire got out of control!

Once the sweatshirt was nothing but a pile of charred remains I calmly walked away, almost as if in a trance, and went back to my room and passed out. I obviously wasn't thinking clearly, or thinking at all, because I left the evidence of my insanity in the stairwell. Upon awakening late the next morning I sat up with fear and dread in my heart that not only would I be relieved of my position as President and kicked out of residence, but perhaps even dismissed from the university. Running out to the stairwell however, I saw no remnants of the fire and over the next few days, nothing was ever said to me. I never found out who cleaned it up – either my Angels were looking out for me, or DEMON was protecting itself.

I returned back home to my family that April (at the end of my second year of university) as a skeleton of the person I left as eight months earlier. Totally entrenched now in the disease, I no longer cared to hide it from anyone ... in fact, I was proud! I had managed to get down from my original 142 pounds on my 5'7" frame to about 110 pounds – a loss of 25 percent of my body weight. Still though, that was not good enough for DEMON. That 99 pound mark was so close and I felt like a failure until I could reach double digits. I ignored all the signs of my destruction – the demise of a couple of close friendships, > SO WHAT ... THEY DON'T LOVE YOU ... YOU ARE DISGUSTING ... NOBODY COULD LOVE A COW < the screaming tantrums targeted at my parents, the tears shed at any given moment, the decreasing ability to concentrate, and the cold ... I was always so cold. The heat of the summer months no longer afforded me the excuse for bulky layers.

I managed to hold down a full-time summer job at the same office as the previous summer and continued my rigorous exercise regime on less and less food. I surpassed the point of being in control though. Somehow the reigns had been stolen from me and the dark DEMON took complete control of my mind and body. There were the odd lucid moments when I was able to view myself from the outside, but these moments brought such disgust and fear that I quickly turned back inside myself. This summer I was no longer the confident and popular girl in the office and the guys tended to stay away from me. No-one knew how to deal with this 'too thin' girl, who spent her lunch hour running off the calories of the sugar she put in her coffee. I was existing in a cocoon, ignoring the stares and comments of my co-workers. > THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND ... YOU CONTROL THEM ... THEY DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW YOU <