I really enjoyed being a rep for Welcome Week and had a lot of fun. I had trouble tolerating the weight gain, and my mood still wasn’t great. I also became stressed about school very quickly. I was also stressed about having enough time to spend with my boyfriend along with my volunteering and tour guiding. I’d also started a research placement at an addictions lab at St. Joseph’s (which happened to be located extremely close to the eating disorders clinic). I was excited for this but stressed about the added time I’d have to spend commuting there.

On top of all this, I spoke with my psychiatrist and decided to try switching to a different antidepressant at the end of September. Quickly, my mood dipped to the lowest it had ever been.

My memory and concentration worsened. I had little to no energy. I had trouble seeing a point in life and felt like I was doomed. I woke up each day filled with dread. I felt unsupported and unsafe in a house with few people I knew, and a friend who was struggling with depression herself. Everything became extremely difficult, and my grades took an initial hit. I did poorly on midterms I’d written. I had trouble explaining any of this to Henry. I cut back on volunteering and tour guiding and did my best to make it through each day. My mom often visited me and picked me up from my research placement. I cried a lot to her. I started noticing a correlation between my mood and my hunger, so I ate more. I also cared less about what I was eating. I quickly started taking my old medication again and my psychiatrist doubled the dose. Very slowly things got better, but I was terrified of failing school. I was terrified of not doing well and ruining everything I’d worked so hard for. I almost broke into tears in class. I considered taking a break from school, but was encouraged to just try my best. As the semester ended, I began feeling a bit better. I tried taking an antipsychotic to boost my antidepressant, but this just made me feel weird. I also didn’t want to be on antipsychotics (they’ve been linked to weight gain). I’d been supported by the eating disorders clinic throughout the semester and was grateful to have access to free therapy. My lowest grade that semester ended up being an A-. How I was able to pull this off, I have no clue. I was grateful to have a break over the holidays.

During the break I was able to visit Henry at his home in Bracebridge. I loved all of the snow they had, and was able to try snowshoeing. I felt more comfortable going to his home this time and genuinely enjoyed the break. I liked how close knit his community was and how they prioritized outdoor activities.

Second semester was smoother because I now had two friends in my program: Brianne and Luke. I sat with them in a lot of our classes and was grateful to feel more connected. One of my courses involved doing some work in a neuroscience lab, and I was grateful for the experience. I finally had more time to exercise, and I took advantage of that. My goal was to be healthy and lose a bit of weight.

During reading week I went skiing with guys I had met at Tremblant earlier. We had a lot of fun, but I was stressed about eating and drinking too much during the week.

By the end of February my mood was starting to dip, and I was aware that I had lost weight. I was happy that I’d lost a bit of weight, but miserable otherwise. I was also scared of gaining weight again. Perfectionism consumed me and I was constantly stressed about school. I became more self critical and self punishing, especially when I didn’t do as well as I’d wanted to do on tests. I relentlessly compared myself to others in my program and believed they were all doing so much better than me. This also made me wary of making lots of friends in my program.

I had the opportunity to help with a bead looming activity on the pediatric eating disorders unit, and I took it. I enjoyed helping the children suffering from eating disorders do something that distracted them, and tried to boost their mood. I admired their strength and felt bad for what they had to face at such a young age. I continued doing this until the end of fourth year.

The one silver lining is that I had more of a social life since I was connected to Brianne and Luke. At the beginning of March I went to Luke’s roommate’s birthday party. I had a lot of fun, and met a guy there named Henry, who happened to be Luke’s roommate in first year. I had a crush on him from the moment I saw him, and chatted with him for a bit. He grew up in Bracebridge, which also happened to be where I went to summer camp as a kid. He was in engineering physics, a program that perplexed me, but I knew it meant he had to be smart. We exchanged numbers and texted a lot. (My friend Diana was also at the party that night and met Henry’s roommate, Mitchell. They also hit it off!) I can’t remember who asked who out on the first date, but I remember Henry and I got coffee at Starbucks. The more we hung out the more I realized I really liked him. Hanging out with him stressed me out because I knew it meant having less time for school, but I was really excited that I might soon be in my first relationship. We hung out quite a bit for the rest of the semester at our student houses and at the library, as he was also very devoted to his studies. I continued to be stressed about school and could tell that my own mental health wasn’t great, but I really liked Henry and wanted to date him. In many ways Henry boosted my mental health as well, it was cool having someone care about me romantically, especially when I’d considered myself to be gross and unlovable in the past.

Towards the end of the semester, I found out that I made the cut and was going to be a representative for the Faculty of Science for Welcome Week the following year. That made me feel very excited and accomplished. At the end of the semester, I was going to be moving back to Burlington to work at Starbucks, and Henry was going to be moving back to Bracebridge to work there. I was sad we were going to be apart, but he asked me to be his girlfriend before we moved away. I happily said yes.

I moved home and started working at Starbucks, and prepped myself for my trip to India. I was taking part in a Me to We Volunteer trip to India for just over 3 weeks, where I’d be immersed in the culture and help build a school. Upon moving home, I could tell that my parents were worried about me. I’d lost some weight again and was exercising more. I noticed that my eating had become more stringent, but again was scared to gain weight. I had an amazing trip in India, where I became more grateful for the luxuries we have. The trip was difficult with the long travel, extreme heat, and extreme working conditions. I struggled with my eating disorder while on this trip, but did my best to take care of myself. I became very close with the group of people I went with, and shared my story with them. They were very supportive and understanding. It was definitely a life-altering trip.

When I returned home, my parents were not pleased with what they saw. Though I wasn’t as emaciated as I’d been in the past, I’d lost a significant amount of weight and wasn’t acting like my normal self. I was scared and ashamed of what had happened, but quickly reached out to the eating disorders clinic again. They welcomed me back, and I was able to start seeing the dietitian, nurse practitioner, and psychologist there again.

Meanwhile, I had no idea how to explain any of this to Henry as I had told him I was past my eating disorder. I was also scared he would think I was crazy and break up with me if I opened up to him. I was supposed to visit him in Bracebridge for Canada Day weekend, but was horribly anxious. I was mentally sick and unsure if I should go. I ended up going and had a pretty good time. I tried to act as “normal” as possible. I enjoyed meeting his family as well.

The rest of the summer passed as I was once again focused on weight restoration and improving my mood. I was scared of starting third year when I knew I was struggling a lot, but pushed on. I made the decision to turn down the opportunity to be an undergrad Teaching Assistant for first year psychology. It was a very tough decision, but I’m glad I did it in the end. After the drama that had occurred in my first student house, with the guy dating the first year in the house while the ex-girlfriend lived upstairs, I had a feeling I needed to move out. I’d supported the ex-girlfriend as her mental health deteriorated (despite the fact she wasn’t super nice to me in high school) and didn’t want to risk a couple breaking up again. I moved into a house with my friend Diana with 5 others we didn’t know.

At this point, I had been connected with a private psychologist in Burlington to continue working on issues related to anxiety, perfectionism, depression and my eating disorder. I felt guilty because I knew my parents had to pay for it, but also felt like I really needed the support. I was living in a student house where I was now in charge of making all of my own meals. I liked my roommates, but early on there was drama in the house. Two of my roommates who had been dating had broken up, and it was not a nice break up. The guy then started flirting with the other girl in the house, a first year life science student going through her own struggles.

Meanwhile, I was thrown into a new program with no friends. Within the first few weeks it seemed that everyone already had their clique of friends. I felt stressed, lonely, and isolated. School was also much harder (even though I didn’t have organic chemistry). All of the information in my courses was brand new, whereas in first year a lot of it was review from high school. I did my best to support the struggling first year in my house, and still struggled with food. I wanted to lose a little bit of weight, not a drastic amount, but a bit. I still struggled to find time to exercise. I also had my bike stolen while writing a midterm one night, that was a rough time. I also made the decision to try to make a friend in my program.

One girl in my program also happened to be in my biology tutorial, and her name was Brianne. I’d met her in first year because we were in the same residence, but thought that she didn’t like me at the time. She also hung out with some pretty wild people. One day in tutorial we were picking groups for a project, but she was late. We’d chatted a bit before, and I didn’t want her to have to be alone, so I put her in my group. We talked more since we were working on the same project, and she seemed like a nice person. During exam season I asked her if she wanted to study with me at the library, and luckily she said yes. Her boyfriend at the time also happened to be in our program, so I wasn’t sure if she was open to me third wheeling, but I was grateful to have a friend.

Despite consistently freaking out about school all semester, I managed to still do well. I enjoyed the holiday break, and jumped into second semester.

As second semester started, I once again felt intense pressure to excel. I proved to myself in first semester that if I tried, I could do really well. In first semester I had physics, chemistry, psychology, economics, and biology, and I got an A or A+ in all of them. This combined with my stress over my higher weight made second semester difficult. One silver lining was getting hired as a campus tour guide despite only being in first year. I was inspired by the tour guide who showed me McMaster, and wanted to share my story and help high school students who were nervous about university. I greatly enjoyed doing this.

In second semester I was still seeing my therapist once per week, and the dietitian, nurse practitioner, and psychiatrist occasionally. I volunteered, gave tours, and took math, chemistry, biology, psychology and economics. I was more perfectionistic and had a lot of breakdowns. I wanted to use the academic accommodations I had, but felt bad about using them. I was terrified of not doing well in math, and struggling with a bad professor. Fortunately, I was able to find a good tutor.

In terms of recovery, I was making some progress but not as much as in first semester. I’d started eating more and was almost weight restored, but psychologically I was far from recovered. I didn’t exercise as much because I felt consumed by school, like I didn’t have time for it. I rarely ate with others and was still particular about what I could and couldn’t eat. Treats and junk food still scared me. I was still horribly self critical as well. However, I felt as though since I looked better I should “be better”. I felt like everyone expected me to just get on with my life as I was “done with the eating disorder”. I had a smaller meal plan, so I made my own breakfast and lunch, but usually got dinner from the cafeteria. Though I felt way better and made a lot of progress, I wasn’t “cured” at all.

The semester was even more stressful because I needed to start looking at off-campus housing options. Initially, I looked with two of my roommates and their friend, but that didn’t work out. They told me that we were looking for different things, so I couldn’t live with them anymore. This deeply hurt me and strained our relationship. I stressed about figuring out where to live, but was luckily messaged by one of my friends from high school who was in second year at McMaster. His parents were buying a student house just off campus, and he had an extra room that I could live in. I used to be good friends with him, and knew a few of the others who were going to be living in the house, so I agreed to move in.

As first semester came to a close, I had to move all of my things out of residence. I was sad to move out and move back home, but grateful for the experiences I had there. In first year I fell in love with the subject psychology, and decided to major in biology and psychology. Fortunately, I was accepted into this program. I knew that it required two organic chemistry courses, and knew that organic chemistry was a very tough subject. I was also scared of not being in school in the summer. I believed that if I wasn’t in school, I’d be more prone to falling into the traps of my eating disorder. So, I signed up to do organic chemistry in summer school.

My treatment at the eating disorders clinic was supposed to continue, but I found out that the psychologist I had been working with was moving back to Toronto. This saddened me, but I was grateful I had the opportunity to work with her. I was eligible to take part in group treatment focused on body image, and I jumped at the opportunity. I was scared to do group treatment, but desperately wanted to improve my body image. I also had a strong desire to work at Starbucks again. Starbucks typically doesn’t hire people to work only in the summer, but I reached out to Starbucks stores in my area to see if they could use me. I was fortunate that I got hired at a different Starbucks in Burlington part time as a barista.

The summer was challenging, but I liked being busy. I juggled summer school and working, but barely had any time to spend with friends or family. Organic chemistry was extremely hard and fast paced, and I was terrified of not doing well. I enjoyed working, but continued to struggle with my body image. The group I was in was helpful, but I was avoiding a lot of the more difficult aspects for me. I avoided wearing a bathing suit or wearing shorts, as I still felt uncomfortable in my body. I spent most of my time stressing about organic chemistry, and felt very down when I didn’t do as well as I’d hoped to on the midterms. I was consumed with anxiety and depression. By some miracle, I ended up getting an A in the first course and an A+ in the second course. In the second course my exam ended up being worth 70% of my grade! It’s also important to note that organic chemistry is notoriously hard at McMaster. Many students opt to take it at different universities where it is supposedly easier.

I had a few weeks off in August before moving into my student house and starting second year. I’d applied to be a Welcome Week representative, but unfortunately didn’t make it. This made me very upset, but I knew it was extremely competitive.

A Poem that was published on NEDIC’s website in 2016 that I wrote:

Poetic Madness: She’s Still Fighting

She looks into her father’s eyes
Words emerge between inconsolable cries

“I do not want to live”.

This pain and this misery is no joke.
Yet to most, misunderstanding is what it seems to invoke.

So let me start at the beginning, of a most certain spiral downwards.
A girl who looked in the mirror and saw fat everywhere.
And this fat, it was her fault.  She took the blame.

And so restriction and self-loathing is what she became.
It started out harmless, no hot chocolate, no juice.
Yet it continued on, and on until barely anything was left.

So once she had some spare time, weight loss became her lifeline.
Numb the pains of imperfection? Check.
Numb the fears of university? Check.
Numb the perpetual anxiety and thoughts of self-hatred? Check.

And you thought this was all about vanity.

The summer proved to be dangerous,
as she met a boy that liked her
A shock, something that hadn’t happened before
“Well then”, her mind wondered,
He must like me because I’m now fit and thin
So the illness became stronger.

“You look good” they commented
On her thinner, toned body,
A few weeks left of summer
Until school was at war with her new hobby.

Terrified she moved away,
Studied food and nutrition,
Where the words of eating healthy were implanted in her mind and twisted.

She couldn’t stand the feeling
Of her stomach feeling full
So she ate less and less, and rules overcame her head,
No carbs, no sweets, no sugary drinks
As she compared the calories in bread.

Portion, portion, portion,
Don’t gain the fat you hated
And this was her fear
That she would hate herself again
Because she was never good enough.

Exercising, restricting and studying became her mantra.

But all the while she was disintegrating.
Crippled with anxiety she barely slept.
She no longer felt hunger, and avoided feeling full at all costs.

Study, study, as she tried to perfect her notes, her coursework.
Anything less than perfect was a fail.
Meanwhile, as she walked down the halls
She began to notice creaking in her bones.  The creaks of frailness.  Yet to her these were a testament of her fortitude.
Going to bed one night she thought her heart might stop, the beat was so weak.

But slowly, depression crept in
When the hunger highs no longer allowed her to thrive
She spiralled into darkness.

Couldn’t concentrate in class
Couldn’t last.
On her own she went to see a dietitian.
Who promoted the restriction
Psychologists were booked up
So she went off campus anyways
Because she couldn’t escape her sadness
She wanted to turn to alcohol to drown the pain away
But resisted.

Before she knew it, all she wanted was to leave
To get out of that jail
To go somewhere else
She lost interest in everything
Depression robbed her of her will to continue.

Her dad whisked her home, moved her back
She thought everything would be better
But oh, mental illness came along, it was packed.

She went to a university to party for Halloween
and her friends saw the massacre of their once jovial companion
As she looked and lived like a skeleton
Avoiding food at all cost, and drinking to numb the pain

She looked in the mirror and thought she was going to die.

Her friend drove her home
And began to weep
Because she had been through it as well
And couldn’t bare to see it happen to someone she loved so much.
She begged her to eat

She returned home, and madness ensued.
For the voice that criticized food attacked her at another angle.

“You’re a failure
You dropped out of school
Would your old self have ever done that? Not a chance.
You used to be smart, athletic and involved.
And now you’re nothing.
That scholarship and everything you worked so hard for,
Gone.
Because you’re a stupid loser.  You jeopardized the one thing that defined you: School.
Without school, you are nothing.  Without the smart label, you’re nothing”. 

The girl couldn’t take these voices.  The food, the failure.  She wanted it to stop.  She begged for it to stop.  A trip to the doctors and a prescription, promised to interrupt them.  In about 6 weeks.

But she couldn’t wait six weeks, she was in such despair.  The voices tormented her day and night she couldn’t concentrate on anything.  All she wanted to do was sleep for this was the only reprieve she received.

Her father took a week off work to watch her
But by Wednesday, she couldn’t imagine going farther.
“Dad, I just don’t want to continue”
Imagine
Hearing those words from your child’s lips
A child you held as a baby, and did your best to raise
Tell you she wants it to all end.

They drove to the hospital.
Where she waited for assessment.
Doctors came to talk to her.
But she wasn’t deemed fit for inpatient care.
All because she didn’t have a specific suicide plan.

Her cries for help were unanswered.

And so began two months of living like a zombie, accompanying her Dad to work and helping him out.
Therapy did nothing.
Drugs had serious side effects.
She slept a lot more
Was pulled out of the house by her friends
Her mood so unstable.
She left a note for her mom
“When I go to sleep, I don’t want to wake up”
For sleep was a break from all the madness.

By January she knew she had to get better, books taught her so.
She did some self-help, and improved a little.
With online courses she rebuilt academic confidence,
she was still unsure if she could survive university.
Where to go, what to do?

She was still very sick at her new job.
As a volunteer as well.
She hated her thin body but couldn’t find a way out.

Only did improvements begin
in the end of August 2015.
Still at her lowest weight,
but determined to get help at the eating disorders clinic.
She had to redirect her fate.

She took a leap of faith and began university,
still struggling.
Still restrictive.
But she had to fight back and realize school was more important than the number on the scale.  Fight the voices telling her to stop gaining weight.
She would have enormous hunger signals in class, when she’d get so hungry she could barely concentrate.  She made sure to nourish herself before her labs.

She fought every voice that told her she wasn’t good enough, she wasn’t smart enough, she wasn’t thin enough. 

And she still fights.  For you can’t see the war going on in her head.
Oh, but rest assured, it’s there.
Has it improved?
Significantly.
But it’s still there.
And she’s still fighting.
And always will.
Because in the end
She wants to live.

At the end of August, I moved into residence at McMaster University to start my undergraduate degree in Life Sciences. The morning I was supposed to move in, my mother sat down at our family table with me. She said, “So, are you going to eat this year?” I was mortified. By then I knew that my issues constituted a real mental illness, that not eating wasn’t a choice. This comment hurt me deep within, and I just couldn’t wait to move out.

I was nervous to move into residence at McMaster, but was more confident in my abilities to survive and do well. As we drove up to my residence building, we saw many students dressed in bright coloured pants and cheering and chanting. As I stepped out of the car, they cheered for me, and then helped me take all of my stuff up to my room. My residence room was apartment style, so I had my own room and 3 roommates. I shared a bathroom with one girl, and we had a small living room and kitchen. I unpacked my things and mentally prepared myself for Welcome Week (aka Frosh Week).

I’m grateful I was able to have a lot of fun during this week. I met a lot of new people, and being older made me feel more mature and prepared for what was ahead of me. I enjoyed getting to know my roommates, and doing the various activities they set up for us during the week. Everyone at McMaster seemed to be very kind and caring, I definitely sensed a different vibe compared to where I had been before. I threw myself into the activities and partying and got myself used to my new environment. Throughout all of this I was still struggling with my mental health and was underweight, but I was looking forward to my future rather than dreading it. I also enjoyed moving out of my parents’ house and having more independence.

As I started first year, I started outpatient eating disorders treatment at St. Joseph’s. For the first 5 weeks my appointments occurred twice per week, where I had a 45 minute bus ride to the hospital and back to campus. I threw myself into my schoolwork and recovery simultaneously. When I reflect on this time in my life, I have no idea how I was able to handle the stresses of recovery and school. However, I know that school motivated me to want to recover. I didn’t want to have to withdraw from school again due to my issues with food. I also believe the support and validation I received from the therapist I was working with was critical. I also received support from a nurse practitioner and a dietitian. They validated my concerns, and used research and scientific knowledge to help me shift my perspectives on food and exercise. Before meeting them, I was convinced that grains were evil, and that junk food was always bad. I believed that I could decide what I wanted my weight to be. They helped me develop a good meal plan and encouraged me to keep nourishing myself. My therapist was also with me when I had to do my weekly weigh-in. It was still stressful, but having her support as I gained weight was crucial.

Meanwhile, school was stressful, but it kept me busy. I didn’t really work out the entire semester because I always had so much schoolwork to do. Also, once I started eating more, my hunger ramped up voraciously. This combined with support from the hospital enabled me to gain weight. However, gaining weight was not easy at all. I remember crying a lot, but knowing that I couldn’t focus on it too much because I had schoolwork to do. I wrote a lot of poetry and developed a crush on a guy I knew. I was still anxious and nervous about school, but had more confidence than when I was at Western. I made friends, including some international exchange students who were really fun to be around. I learned about what it’s like to live in England, Australia, Holland, and New Zealand. I even invited them to Thanksgiving dinner!

Making friends and connections with others was a big help in getting better. I enjoyed the residence environment I lived in and being around different people. I made a lot of study buddies! School consumed me and stressed me out a lot, but it was better to be consumed by school than to be consumed by my eating disorder. I also was getting good grades in school, which helped boost my self esteem. I hadn’t lost my work ethic or my academic aptitude. Volunteering also greatly boosted my self esteem. I volunteered at McMaster Children’s Hospital in the elementary school room helping kids with their homework once a week. It made me feel useful and purposeful, and I was inspired by the kids I met.

I started hanging out with a guy who promptly ghosted me, so that was hard for me to cope with. I couldn’t do much on my 19^th birthday because I had an exam the following day, but I was able to go to the LCBO and buy some things. I remember enjoying the holidays a lot more than I had my previous year, and my family was happy to see that I looked healthier and happier. As my weight increased I became more uncomfortable, but tried to trust in my treatment team.

I was connected with a psychologist and started taking the antidepressants. I was extremely fortunate that the antidepressant seemed to work fairly quickly. It definitely numbed my thoughts and made living more bearable. I remember getting some strange side effects, like a tingly nose and feeling very fatigued. My dad watched me at home, and my mom ended up taking me with her and my aunt to her conference in San Diego.

Growing up, I’ve always loved traveling. I loved the excitement of being in an airport, getting on a plane, and looking forward to experiencing something new. When I went to the airport for this trip, I felt none of that. I recognized this and this made me even more sad, I was scared my brain was going to be messed up forever. On the flight there I had dreams idealizing going back to Western. It wasn’t that bad, my attitude was. I could go back and pick up where I left off. My brain had completely flipped on me.

I remember using the exercise room in the hotel in San Diego and weighing myself to ensure nothing had changed. I remember walking around the city and the conference as well. I remember shopping at Victoria’s Secret, even though I didn’t want to. It didn’t make sense to buy new things if I couldn’t imagine living, but my boobs had shrunk and none of my bras fit. My mom bought them anyways.

I also remember waiting in line to go to the top donut shop in San Diego. They sold specialty donuts (something that wasn’t yet popular in Toronto). We went to the waterfront to sit down and eat them, slicing them into pieces so we could have bites of each. At the time, donuts were a forbidden food. I had cut them out in my quest to lose weight. I don’t remember how much of the donuts I actually ate (but I can fairly assume it wasn’t much). I remember the feeling of horror after eating them. I was freaking out, terrified that I’d gain weight. I remember desperately trying to find a bathroom, because I wanted to puke up what I had just eaten. I had never really puked before other than when I was drunk, and felt strange about doing it in a public bathroom. I’m pretty sure my mom and aunt found me in the bathroom and I knew I couldn’t do it.

I don’t remember much else about that trip, but I remember the dread of waking up the morning we had to fly back home. I was despondent and in denial. I spoke with my mom on the plane about how I couldn’t go on, I couldn’t forgive myself for being so stupid and not eating. I couldn’t live with the guilt. She had to talk me down most of the plane ride home, and I probably freaked out the stranger sitting next to me.

When we got home, it was clear that I still needed to be closely monitored and watched. My mom had a connection with a psychiatrist in the anxiety treatment and research centre at St. Joseph’s West 5^th in Hamilton, ON. Since I was still experiencing debilitating worry and anxiety, I was able to get a consultation with her relatively quickly. I remember the day my parents took me to that appointment, and how the hospital looked very beautiful. It was newly built. I sat in their waiting room, so nervous I was unable to sit still. I remember going in and chatting with the psychiatrist and her student as they asked me numerous questions. She was extremely nice, caring, and understanding. She mentioned that even she was thinking of taking a year off to do something different, as life wasn’t all about academics and work. Unfortunately, I wasn’t followed by her because it was determined that I didn’t have a primary anxiety disorder. I had major depression and “eating disorder not otherwise specified”.

Since moving back home I had gained a few pounds, but then stagnated. In my mind I was eating healthily, and though part of me knew I was underweight, part of me was terrified of gaining weight. I loosened up my food rules a bit, and believed I was more or less fine. The truth was I was still being very restrictive, and not giving my body the nourishment it needed.

My dad ended up taking me to his office with him. He only worked with one other person, so this was quite feasible. To pass the time, I read various books and “pretend studied”. I also tried to start looking at what I could be doing for school the following year. This brought up a lot of stress and anxiety in me. I was helping my aunt create a recipe book to honour my nana, and spent time doing that as well. It took a long time to put together as it incorporated many pictures. I was also fortunate enough that my aunt worked at the Arthritis Society, and they needed a volunteer. I started going in to help out.

I didn’t talk to any of my friends, I was ashamed, lost, and alone. In December I started working back at the grocery store I worked at earlier that year, and it was extremely difficult. I hated being on cash because if I didn’t have a customer, my mind was ruminating about negative things and about how stupid I was. Luckily, I was able to help the grocery department with restocking shelves. I was embarrassed to be back there looking the way I did. A few people asked me if I had lost weight, and all I said was yes. I didn’t know how to respond, or what to say to people. I also went to my cousin Chelsea’s birthday party and knew how strange and different I was. I only allowed myself to have a bite of a cupcake and felt terrible after.

I remember my 18^th birthday, definitely not wanting any sort of cake. I could care less that I was older, because frankly, I had no interest in living still. I was still overcome with shame and guilt. I was able to have a lot of friends over for a party, as many of them were back from university. All I can remember from that is that I drank way too much. My friend made me an amazing scrapbook that brought me to tears. It contained photos of me and my friends and family over the years, and in the back were kind messages from my friends. Those messages meant the world to me, and I still go back and read them to this day. They all had faith and believed in me when I certainly didn’t believe in myself.

For New Years my family went to Blue Mountain to ski. I was sad because even skiing wasn’t as much fun as it had been in the past, and I definitely got colder faster. The most notable part of that trip was when we were playing a game downstairs and I laughed. It was the first time I had really laughed in a very long time. I was still very sick, but happy to see small bits of myself poking through.

I continued reading, seeing a psychologist (which I didn’t think was helping much), and signed up for a business course in the New Year. I’d been reading about neuroscience and pharmacology and found it very interesting. I had the belief that I would possibly go into a life sciences program, and knew that I would need to take high school physics. I signed up for online Grade 11 physics, and started a continuing education course through McMaster University in business administration. I was terrified that being out of school I’d lose my academic aptitude forever. Going to the business class was strange, I drove to Hamilton and was in a class with many older people. Many had jobs and were just trying to boost their credentials. I was inspired by all of these older people furthering their education.

During this time I was becoming a bit more responsive with my phone, and started applying for volunteering positions and part time jobs. I also had a lot of informational interviews with people in different careers. I felt lost about what I was doing, but knew that returning to Brescia to study food and nutrition was likely not the best idea.

I felt quite lonely, but was grateful to have the support of my childhood friend Zoe. She had decided to withdraw from the pre-nursing program she was in, and went out of her way to spend time with me and do things with me. I know I was not fun to be around during this time, but she supported me no matter what. I also visited my friend Nina at Laurier. She was doing first year health sciences, and I helped her with math. The fact that I could still be helpful gave me a huge confidence boost, and I had more belief that I hadn’t completely ruined my brain.

One of the books I read during this time was “All Fall Down” by Jennifer Weiner. I’m not exactly sure how I came across this book, but it truly changed my life. The book is about a regular suburban mom who becomes addicted to Oxycontin. She ends up using more and more to cope with the stresses of life, and ends up in rehab. She rebuilds herself, and eventually gets better. This book made me realize that mental illness can affect anyone, and that it’s not someone’s fault for developing it. It reinforced that you can’t change the past, you can’t undo mistakes, but you can change moving forward. I still felt horrible about what had happened at Western, and was still convinced that it was all my fault. However, part of me knew that I still struggled with food, and that I could reach out for help and hopefully get better like the lady in the book did. This inspired me to want to be referred to the eating disorders program.

In early March, I came to a conclusion that the medication I was on wasn’t working well. I still felt anxious and down, and didn’t like how uppity it sometimes made me feel. I went to my family doctor who prescribed a different antidepressant, which ended up working better for me. At this time I still often felt cold, and my hair was still dry and brittle.

In March I went to Mont Tremblant to ski with my family, and was actually able to enjoy it a bit and have some fun. Some guys I had met the previous year on my graduation Tremblant trip with my friends ended up being there at the same time. They were inspired by the trip I organized, and decided to organize a graduation trip with their own friends. I hung out with them some evenings and enjoyed socializing with them.

Meanwhile, the business course was extremely stressful for me. I remember crying after writing a test because I believed I had failed it, then being upset because I got an 80-something on it. I also had a very stressful group project that just didn’t seem to be going well. I had applied to life sciences at McMaster and Guelph, but was told that before they accepted me, they needed to know the mark I got in this course. Considering my high school GPA was 98%, this was ridiculous. I became delusional, fearing that I wouldn’t do well in this course and that I wouldn’t be able to get into university. I dropped the course, but still technically finished it. I ended up getting 100% on that stressful project.

By the end of March, I’d been trying to get a part time job for a few months, and I really wanted to work at Starbucks. I’d applied earlier in the year, but hadn’t heard anything back. I ended up dropping off notes for the store managers, and was able to get an interview at a Starbucks near my house. Believe it or not, they have a two-step interview process for hiring baristas! I had an interview with my future store manager, as well as another store manager in the district. The interviews went well, and I ended up getting the job. Working at Starbucks was extremely hard, but exciting. I enjoyed the challenge and loved the coffee.

In March I also started volunteering at Hamilton General Hospital, as I had an interest in working in healthcare. I helped patients on floor 8 fill out their meal forms, and submitted them on their behalf. I enjoyed being able to help others who were sick and suffering. I also became an operating room waiting room attendant. I answered the phone, helped individuals who were waiting for a loved one in surgery, and gave people messages. I was inspired by people’s resilience and the magic that the doctors did. I liked being able to support people in their time of need.

I finished Gr. 11 physics with a high-90. I immediately signed up for online Gr. 12 physics, and was accepted to McMaster for Life Sciences. I looked forward to going there for school. I spent the next few months working part time at Starbucks, doing physics, and preparing myself for what lay ahead.

Becoming a barista boosted my confidence and self worth in ways I will never forget. I was able to develop new skills and excel at something that wasn’t academic. Working there saved my life, it helped me to feel better about myself and to overall get better. I developed a passion for excellent customer service.

When I had a referral put in to go to the eating disorders clinic, I was informed that the waitlist was about 6 months. This hurt me, as I was hoping I could get help straightaway. I didn’t like the psychologist I had been seeing too much, and felt like I wasn’t making much progress. Luckily, the intern psychologist in the eating disorders program did some private practice appointments on the side. She agreed to meet with me and give me therapy before I could officially get into the program. My eating was still restricted, and I continued to exercise regularly along with working a physically demanding job. I enjoyed speaking with her and felt like she truly listened to me.

Eventually, I finished Gr. 12 physics with a low-90. I was a bit disappointed by my performance but was happy to be done with it. The summer before I started school at McMaster, I organized a trip to Vancouver with three of my friends. I was also able to have a pretty good time on this trip, though I was still restricted in my eating and more down than usual. We did the typical touristy things including visiting Stanley Park and the Vancouver Aquarium. We went to Whistler one day and took a chairlift up the mountain. We also took a day trip to Seattle, where we went to the first Starbucks store as well as the Starbucks Reserve and Roastery. It looked very cool, with coffee beans moving through clear tubes that went up to the ceiling. I also was able to visit my cousin Taryn who had moved out there. Overall, I had a good trip in Vancouver, but could tell I still wasn’t acting like myself.

I attended orientation for the outpatient eating disorders program mid-August. Attending this orientation was a life-changing moment for me. While I was reading through the information and doing their surveys, I felt as though someone understood what I was going through, and that my problems were real, legitimate problems. I found out that I could work with the psychologist I had been seeing privately in their transitions program, and I was eager to start in September.

Coming home didn’t end up feeling as good as I thought it would. I think I had some delusional fantasy that if I went home all of my mental and physical issues would just go away. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Halloween weekend was coming up, and I was already thinking about where I wanted to go to school in January or next Fall. I was thinking of pursuing a business degree, and had an interest in going to Laurier. Two of my friends from high school were in residence at Laurier, and it just so happened that my friend Hailey was going to visit her friend at Laurier as well. She gave me a ride so I could have fun with my friends and check out the school.

That weekend was hazy, I remember fitting into jeans from a “smarties pants” costume that fit me when I was in Grade 9, and feeling ecstatic. I remember partying and drinking, and feeling so cold when we were walking outside that I ran into a random apartment building, and my friends had to find me. I remember walking around a costume store looking for things and feeling like I was going to faint. I remember eating way too many goldfish while drunk one night and feeling horrible the following morning. I looked in the mirror and thought I was going to die. I paced up and down my friend’s hall, as I reflected on what I’d just done and what was happening to me. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I felt so bad about eating so much that I resolved to skip breakfast. My friend Hailey pleaded with me to eat something, and she sat with me at Starbucks as I tried to eat oatmeal. On my way home from that weekend trip, my friend Hailey sobbed. She gave me a protein bar to eat, and was upset because she knew what it felt like to feel like I was feeling. Her heart broke to see me battling such an evil disease.

When I arrived home, guilt, shame, embarrassment, and sadness enveloped me. I believed that all of this was my fault. I started eating less, exercising more, and caused myself this hell. I’m the reason I had to leave school. My only identity was school. I was so smart, and had so much potential, and I’d ruined it. I was nothing without school. My brain ruminated on this constantly:

Laura, you are such a f**king idiot. How could you be so stupid? How could you let food get in the way of academics? School is the most important thing, you are nothing without school. You are such a failure, a waste, an idiot. So so stupid. You are worthless. You don’t matter. There’s no point in anything. You’d made a massive mistake and you will never forgive yourself. Idiot.

This was in a loop in my mind, and I couldn’t stop it. I had trouble falling asleep. My parents couldn’t leave me alone, so my Dad took time off of work to watch me. The following Monday we went to my family doctor to explain everything going on, and I heavily emphasized how depressed I was. I begged for anything to take the thoughts away. My doctor gave me a prescription for antidepressants and benzodiazepines. I was supposed to take Cipralex (antidepressant) daily, and the benzodiazepines when I was extremely anxious. However, I was told that they were habit forming so I was wary of using them. I also stopped taking the birth control pill because it was thought that it may have been messing with my mood.

I was sincerely hoping that the pills would make me magically feel better. One morning I got so anxious I curled up in a ball on the hallway floor, acting like a three year old. I got so anxious I thought I was going to throw up, and remember my vision going black as I sat in front of the toilet. The antidepressants gave me weird side effects, like a tingling face and nose, and made me very lethargic.

I remember my dad staying home with me, going on short jogs with me, and going out for coffee with me. I considered going to McMaster the following year because it was close to home. I remember waking up one night, and feeling unable to stand still. I felt the need to escape, to get away. I walked down the street at 2am, and eventually my  parents caught up with me.

I didn’t use my phone at all, and completely ignored my friends. I was silent on social media. I spent most of the day ruminating about how much I hated myself.

After taking the antidepressants for a few days, I still didn’t feel much better. I was disappointed because I thought it would magically make me feel a lot better, and it didn’t. I wasn’t willing to wait 6-8 weeks to see improvements. So I told my dad that I needed to go to the hospital.

My mom worked in Hamilton, and knew a bit about the hospital system there. She knew that St. Joseph’s Hospital had a specialized psychiatric emergency department, so she told my dad to take me there. I remember walking up to the registration desk, and the man asking my dad how old I was. When my dad told him I was 17 years old, he told us that we had to go to McMaster Children’s Hospital, because I wasn’t 18 yet. My dad tried to explain that I was a few months away from being 18, but we were ultimately told to just go to McMaster.

So my dad drove me across the city to McMaster. I don’t remember much of this encounter in vivid detail, but I remember seeing the triage nurse and being weighed. I remember waiting for a very long time, and speaking with a doctor and a social worker. In my head, I desperately just wanted to be put to sleep. I didn’t want to be alive. I mentioned that I’d take a bunch of pills if I had to. I knew I was messed up and I wanted to be in the hospital, I figured that by going to the hospital I’d somehow get better. After hours, I ended up just going back home. Since I didn’t have a specific suicide plan and my parents were supportive, they didn’t deem it necessary.

I returned home. I remember having trouble concentrating on watching television because of the negative thoughts. I don’t know why I did this, but I drank a bit of wine hoping that it would numb me or at least maybe make the medication work faster. I didn’t drink wine at this point in my life.

I remember feeling anxious driving to university with my parents, with all my things packed in the car. The move-in went smoothly, I had a private room in a beautiful new residence, and I shared a bathroom with a friend from high school. My parents helped me set my things up, and left. I remember having a meeting for our floor, and feeling nervous about my new environment. I was excited to participate in Orientation Week activities, which were focused on drinking and partying. You’d think all this drinking would cause me to gain weight, but I focused on drinking low calorie alcoholic drinks and reducing my food intake to compensate.

The next few weeks were a blur. I attended classes, but I was extremely scared and nervous all the time. The only time I would relax was when I drank and partied on weekends. I didn’t attend any of my floor events (partially because many of them revolved around food), and I had so much work to do from all of my classes and was scared of getting behind. To make things worse, I had pre-acceptance to the Ivey business program, and in order to maintain it I needed to get an average above 80%, and be involved in three activities/clubs. I was alone a lot of the time, and frankly going a bit crazy.

I would scroll through social media and believe that all of my friends were having so much more fun than I was at different universities. I still missed the boy I had a summer fling with. The friend I knew from high school was busy playing varsity field hockey most of the time. Internally, I was crumbling. I didn’t feel like myself, and felt extremely anxious and nervous every single day. I began questioning my program in food and nutrition, and worried about the prospects of becoming a registered dietitian. It was apparently very competitive, and I didn’t think I’d get in. I couldn’t see what my future was going to be and obsessively worried about it.

My food intake was variable and restricted. I tried to exercise as much as I could while doing my work, and ate little. I usually made my own breakfast, and worried about portioning my oatmeal because I didn’t want to eat too much. The cafeteria in my residence was very healthy (inspired by the popular nutrition program) but I had created rules for what I could and couldn’t eat. I didn’t touch the baked goods section, and I worried about the oil that the food was cooked in. I mostly ate salads from the salad bar, minimizing my intake of carbohydrates and trying to pick the dressing with the lowest number of calories. Balsamic vinegar was the lowest calorie option. I didn’t fill my plate too much because it was priced by weight, and I didn’t want it to be too expensive. I was also really worried about the price of everything, as it was all expensive and I didn’t want to run out of money on my meal plan. My parents didn’t care about this, and told me to not worry about it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. To top all of this off, I hated eating with others. Many people make friends and bond by going to meals with other people, but I rarely did. When I did eat with others, they were probably shocked by how little I had. I had a lot of snacks in my room, but felt like I couldn’t touch them. Skinny Pop had oil on it and my brain decided that that was bad.

My partying was wild. I desperately wanted to meet boys and make friends, and believed partying was a way to achieve that. Numerous times I went out with some girls from my all-girls residence, but would lose them when I was at concerts. One time when I was walking back to my residence alone, a boy came up to me and asked me to go back to his residence with him. I was in shock, we weren’t even allowed to have guests from other residences over, but he said he could sneak me in. I turned him down and was disgusted by the request. Another night I went to a different residence to party, and ended up staying over in a random guy’s room (we didn’t do anything) because it was raining and we didn’t want to walk back to our residence. A different night I remember drinking before going to a concert on campus. I started feeling sick, and puked in the University Student Centre. I hadn’t eaten enough and that’s how I got sick. Another guy who seemed nice and friendly invited me to a party at his residence. I arrived at his residence, eager to meet new people, but didn’t see a party anywhere on his floor. I was confused, and he took me to his room to chat on his bed for a bit. He randomly kissed me, which I wasn’t crazy about, but felt like I couldn’t say no. I felt uncomfortable and wanted to leave after that, as I sensed there was no residence party. Before I left he said, “can you at least suck my dick, so I have something to tell my friends?” Thankfully, I had the sense and courage to say no and storm out. I walked back to my room alone, and cried. My final failed partying attempt occurred when I went to a frat house for a party with some friends. As per usual, I lost the girls I was with, and ended up walking home alone.

As the weeks went on, I was miserable. I continued to be anxious all the time, it was definitely pathological. I had tried to make friends, but didn’t feel connected to anyone. I honestly can’t blame the people I was with for thinking I was odd and keeping me on the outside of the group. Part of it was petty, as one girl mentioned, “you didn’t hang out with us at the beginning of Orientation Week, so you aren’t really part of the group”. Part of it was valid, as I acted strange and unlike myself most of the time. One time we went out for dinner at Jack Astor’s. I had already eaten dinner, and couldn’t risk the calories from anything else, so I ordered a side of veggies. I cringe when I think about this, because it’s just proof of how sick I was. My illness was consuming me.

After 5 weeks of not communicating with my family (I needed to be strong and independent), my mom and sister visited so we could go apple picking. It was nice to see them, and we went out for lunch after. We went to William’s, a café with good food. I stared at the menu for a long time trying to figure out what the lowest calorie item was. My mom noticed my hesitation and encouraged me to just order. I eventually ordered a salad with dressing on the side. Before my mom and sister left, my mom hugged me, and through my sweater I think she could tell how small and frail I had become.

I began to notice something was really off with me, but wasn’t sure what was going on. I loved my weight loss, and was extremely proud of myself. For the first time I looked in the mirror and didn’t completely hate what I saw. However, I was terrified of gaining back the weight I had lost, and had no idea how to eat normally to maintain my lower weight. I reached out to a dietitian provided through the university. You’d think this would have been helpful, but unfortunately it wasn’t. She gave me a low calorie plan to maintain my low weight, and reinforced that I could “eat as many vegetables as I wanted”. She didn’t know what I was like before, she only knew that my weight and BMI were technically “normal” even though they were definitely not normal for my body.

As the weeks went on, my mood dipped even lower. I found it difficult to focus on my school work, and be engaged in my activities. I tried joining the orchestra but struggled with playing my violin. I felt incredibly lonely and isolated. I started to view school as a prison.

The only thing I remember from going home for Thanksgiving that year was that I cried a lot. I wasn’t enjoying myself at school, I was constantly anxious, didn’t have friends, and just felt very sad. My family encouraged me to try to look on the brighter side of things, but I believe even they could tell something bad was happening to me. They just couldn’t comprehend what was going on.

I returned to school, and decided it would be a good idea to see a therapist. I could tell my brain wasn’t functioning properly, and after doing some googling, believed that I might have an eating disorder. I was terrified, but one of my friends in high school developed an eating disorder, and was able to get better. I didn’t know too many details of her story, but knew that she worked with a psychologist, and was able to improve. I thought I may be able to do the same thing. I knew that the university offered counselling services, so I went to the wellness building in hopes of getting some help. I briefly spoke with a woman that said there was a long waitlist for services. I’d be placed on it, but there was also some funding in the wellness budget to see a therapist in the community. I was in no state of mind to be searching for and finding a therapist in the community, so I’m fortunate that my mom did that step for me.

I remember riding the bus to downtown London, quite a ways away from the university. I was lost and scared, and my phone died just after I got off the bus. I eventually found the office and sat in the waiting room, unsure of what to expect. I don’t remember many details of that appointment, but I know that I cried most of the time, and just unleashed my whole story to the psychologist. I saw her two times, looking for guidance and next steps. At this point, I was seriously considering leaving school. I didn’t like my program, hated where I was, and didn’t know what was happening to me. Psychologists don’t really give advice or tell you what to do, but I distinctly remember her saying that I probably could last the semester, but “at what cost?”. She gave me preliminary diagnoses of an eating disorder, anxiety, and depression. Hearing her say that was tough, but I think it ultimately made me feel better. I knew something was wrong, and was happy there were names for it rather than me just being absolutely nuts.

As weeks went on I stressed about midterms, assignments, everything. My mood dipped lower and lower, and I went home every weekend. I wanted to withdraw, but my parents were hesitant at first. Stress caused me to start seeing an aura in my vision. I called my mom in the middle of an evening class because I was having an anxiety attack. I remember seeing stars at the end of one of my runs. I was malnourished, but terrified of food.

One night I thought my heart was going to stop, because the beat was very weak. But I loved the feeling of my bony legs.

I had moments of clarity. I remember coming home one weekend, looking in my bathroom mirror, and being horrified by what I saw, how gauntly, thin, and sick I looked. I remember eating a shawarma (that I didn’t really want to eat), and then feeling guilty. My mind was still very sick.

Severe depression settled in, and I lost all motivation to do anything. Everything felt pointless, I hated school, hated my program, and was exhausted from being stressed. I continued to lose weight. The time to withdraw without academic penalty was coming up soon, and I knew that I wanted to leave. My parents were unsure about this at first, but after seeing me deteriorate further mentally and physically, they decided that withdrawing me was the best course of action.

I remember being happy packing my room up the night before I left. I was really excited to leave prison and go back home. I talked to another girl in my residence, and will never forget her say “you’re not yourself when you’re hungry”. That phrase really stuck with me. I was fortunate my dad was able to come and get me and all my things. Just before leaving I knew I wanted to use up my meal plan money, so I bought some candy for my sister and family.

The summer after high school went by very quickly. I was working as a cashier at Denninger’s, and trying to enjoy myself after successfully graduating high school. I no longer had to stress about grades and devote a good chunk of time to school, so that focus and obsession turned to food and exercise. I focused on eating less and exercising more. I also developed an interest in partying, and developed a crush on my friend’s friend. I was obsessed with this boy, and my weight loss plan. I tried to avoid thinking about university and moving away because it all made me too sad.

I went to the nurse practitioner because my irregular periods had gotten even more irregular, and I was really tired of its volatility. I hadn’t had it in a few months, so she prescribed me birth control to try to regulate it. I was completely unaware that birth control can seriously affect your mood and well-being.

I remember eating as much salad and low calorie options as I possibly could. I don’t think I ate dinner at home once, and was lying about eating dinner at friends’ houses or going out for meals with friends. I tried to go to the gym as often as I could, and didn’t allow myself to eat any desserts or treats. At my mom’s birthday party I didn’t want to have any cake. I also remember going on a walk with some friends in the middle of a party, and many people went to McDonald’s to get drunk food. I knew there was nothing at McDonald’s I could eat, so I went to Tim Horton’s. After staring at the menu and baked goods for a long time, I concluded that the only thing I could get was tea. Everything else had too many calories or carbs and would thwart my goal.

I started drinking more coffee at this time as well. I drank regular coffee with a bit of non-fat milk, because I didn’t want to eat too much sugar, and believed all added sugar was bad. I don’t remember whether I liked it, or if I just knew that it would give me energy and suppress my appetite.

My family went on an all-inclusive vacation to Costa Rica during the summer as well, bringing along my best friend Sara. I remember taking pictures in a bikini top and being proud of how I looked, but still hating my legs and stomach and thinking I needed to lose more weight. My dad commented on how I looked, commending me for exercising more and looking good. It was clear that I wasn’t my normal self on this trip. I was obsessed with the boy back home, and obsessed with meeting boys at the resort. The buffets freaked me out, and I did my best to load up on vegetables and avoid dessert. I enjoyed drinking, but remember being so cold one night after drinking that I had to sit down and put a sweater on-in hot, humid Costa Rica. I also remember feeling incredibly sad, and having trouble falling asleep.

As the end of the summer neared, my anxiety and sadness skyrocketed. I had a summer fling with a boy who was going to school 7 hours away from me. This was the first person who’d ever shown a romantic interest in me, and I was having trouble letting it go. I had my first kiss with him, and remember crying with friends from high school as we realized this phase of our life was over. My best friend was going to Queen’s (5 hours away from where I was going). I was extremely scared to go to school, but just figured I had to do it. I also noticed that I felt a lot more sad than usual. I remember crying after a soccer game, not knowing why I suddenly burst into tears. My mom spoke to me, but I could kind of sense that something was really off for me. Reluctantly, I packed my things to move into residence, and went out for dinner with my family one last time.

Reflecting on a picture taken at dinner that night, it’s clear that I had lost weight since the beginning of the summer. I was extremely happy with what I had accomplished, and terrified of gaining the weight back. I was absolutely terrified of gaining the “Freshman 15”. I didn’t know how I could maintain my exercise and food habits and excel in school.

I was terrified of going to high school. So terrified, I cried the night before, laying in my bed wondering what it would be like. Would I do well in school? Will I adapt? Will I get beaten up? Most of my friends from elementary school were going to the same school as me, so that should have given me some comfort, but it didn’t really.

Fortunately, I survived the transition. I was scared and nervous about school, and terrified of exams, but I was able to do them and to do well. I didn’t really join any clubs or activities because I was worried about my academics for most of the year. I did try out for the soccer team, but sadly didn’t make it. I was adjusting to my new environment, and trying to get used to my new normal. In my free time I hung out with friends, where we watched movies and played MarioKart. I wasn’t interested in drinking, drugs, or partying, partially because I was scared of the effect they’d have on me.

Transitioning to Gr. 10 was much smoother. I had the highest average of all the kids in Gr. 9, and was proud of my accomplishment. I enrolled in pre-advanced placement (AP) classes for some subjects in Gr. 10. I was scared for those as well, but felt like I should give them a try. I also became more involved in school as I participated in field hockey and soccer. I excelled in my Gr. 10 gym class, and tried to survive the drama and politics of high school. I placed more pressure on myself to do better, and to get higher marks than I had received in Gr. 9. I continued to hang out with my friends on weekends and play MarioKart. I definitely had bad test anxiety, having trouble falling asleep the night before tests. I also hated essays and other projects because they were hard to perfect. When it came time to select courses for Gr. 11, I was nervous and uncertain. I had no idea what path I wanted to head down, or what I wanted to be in the future. In my careers class I researched being a dietitian and an accountant. I had interests in business and science, so I decided to try both of those subjects. However, I wasn’t a huge fan of physics, and it scared me. I believe that at the time I didn’t think I would do well in it, and the physics teacher at my school intimidated me. I decided that I didn’t want to take it. I also decided to drop pre-AP classes. I didn’t want to devote my entire life to school, I wanted a balance of school and other activities, and to do well so I could get into a good university.

Gr. 11 marked the beginning of a lot of changes for me. I had received the overall second highest average in my Gr. 10 class, and was a bit upset at myself for this. However, my best friend Sara ended up getting the highest average. While I was initially jealous and mad, I was proud of her because she worked really hard and deserved to come first.

In Gr. 11 I got my first part-time job as a cashier at Denninger’s, a German family-owned specialty grocery store in my city. My other cousins had started working at that time, and my other friends had been working as well, so I felt like I should get a job too. School and my activities were a full-time job in and of themselves, but I pushed myself to work. It was at this time that I realized that life didn’t have a lot of free time. I felt guilty about doing nothing, and felt like there was always something I should be doing. I pushed myself to get even higher grades in Gr. 11, and was upset whenever I got anything wrong on my tests (even if the overall grade was fantastic). I enjoyed working, and learned a lot about the real world interacting with disgruntled customers. I enjoyed the “female fun fit” class I took, where we’d do various fitness activities, including playing around at GoodLife. I’d always been athletic and never thought too much about my body. People started thinking about university, but I tried to avoid that at all costs. I had no idea what I wanted to do, and struggled to think about the future. I was really terrified.

The summer after Gr. 11, I went on a month long trip across Europe with my best friend so we could get our Gr. 12 English credit. With about 40 other students and teachers, we traveled to England, France, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Italy and Spain. It was a lot of travel, and stressful trying to do schoolwork, but we had a great time. I remember getting an 89% on the essay we handed in at the beginning of the trip, and feeling quite upset with myself. I didn’t want to do anything, and felt like I didn’t deserve to have fun. Luckily, my friend convinced me it was fine, and I was able to enjoy a fun night in Paris. I definitely felt anxious throughout the trip, and some nights it was hard for me to breathe and I had trouble sleeping. I was happy when the trip was over, and I got 91% in the course. Though I enjoyed myself, I was very stressed. On the plane ride back, my life changed forever. For whatever reason, I noticed that my stomach seemed bigger, and I was a bit nervous about it. I didn’t want to gain weight. My fears were confirmed when I came home and noticed a lot of my clothes were tighter. I determined that this was unacceptable, I’d eaten too much on my trip. I started to hate my body, and make changes so that I could lose the evil weight I had gained.

However, Gr. 12 quickly started. I had my part-time job, was on the field hockey and soccer teams, joined student council, took violin lessons and volunteered at my church weekly. I had wanted to quit my job at the beginning of Gr. 12, but my parents encouraged me to continue working. I was busy most of the time, and had little spare time to relax. I also had to prepare myself to apply to university, and I felt very lost. I didn’t know what I wanted to be, or what I wanted to study. I felt like I didn’t have time to visit universities. I found out that my Gr. 11 average was the highest in my class, at a staggering 98%. I remember them announcing that number at the awards ceremony, and the mixed feeling of embarrassment and pride I felt. I felt accomplished and like a freak at the same time. Despite my achievements, I still felt lost as to what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t think I’d do well in university science, and was scared of having to do labs in a larger setting. I also had no intention of being a doctor (after witnessing my own mother work extremely hard as one), so I felt like a science degree didn’t make sense. I ended up applying to a bunch of business programs, and the food and nutrition program at Western.

My interest in food and nutrition blossomed during this year as I endeavoured to lose weight (even though my BMI was completely normal). My hate for my body grew, and I changed my diet and exercise a bit. I was passionate about changing the obesity epidemic by teaching others about good nutrition. I read the book “Salt, Sugar, Fat” and was appalled by how bad and processed a lot of our food was. I started swapping hot chocolate for tea, avoiding pastries and desserts, and running more. However, I was so busy with school and my other activities that I didn’t have a lot of time to devote to my weight loss goal. As a result, my body didn’t change much.

I was very glad when first semester was over, most of the pressure to excel to get into university was done with. I started drinking alcohol for the first time in Gr. 12, and was amazed at how much it numbed my brain and made me stop thinking about so much stuff. I drank way too much at New Year’s at my friend’s ski chalet in Blue Mountain, and learned a valuable lesson. At that time my friend’s mom mentioned that I should work out with my friend Hailey (who was recovering from an eating disorder), and I took this hard. It confirmed what I believed – I’m overweight. I was drinking very sugary stuff, and unaware that this was probably thwarting my weight loss goals.

By my second semester of Gr. 12, I was tired of having to work so hard all the time. I was tired of feeling burnt out. My issues with sleeping the night before tests vanished because I was sleep deprived all the time. I finally had a spare (a section of class where I didn’t have class) and a “bird course” (Gr. 11 cooking). I enjoyed going on adventures during my spare, usually to Starbucks to feed my growing love of coffee. My friends and I started partying and drinking more on weekends, and I felt as though I still needed to get super high grades to possibly get a scholarship. I was accepted to Laurier and McGill for business, and to Western for food and nutritional sciences with advanced acceptance to Ivey. Ivey is a fancy, expensive business school at Western that allows you to study any subject for the first two years, then do pure business courses in your third and fourth year to earn an Honours Business Administration (HBA) degree. I was rejected by Queen’s business school (for a still unknown reason). I wanted to be far away from home, but not too far away. The Western programs interested me because I could pursue business and science simultaneously. Without really touring any schools, I decided to go there for food and nutrition, and possibly business. I spent the rest of my Gr. 12 year having fun with friends, drinking too much occasionally, and still trying in school.

I remember trying on grad dresses, and feeling really sad because I was unhappy with my size. I truly believed I was fat. I visited a nurse practitioner in the spring because I thought I might have something wrong with my thyroid. I expressed my concerns about my weight to her, and she mentioned that I should avoid eating junk food with my friends. This strengthened my resolve to be better by eating better.

I’d also had a falling out with a friend of mine who said she liked my “womanly body”. She went behind my back and started dating the guy she knew I had a crush on. This definitely hurt me.

I enjoyed the rest of my Gr. 12 year, and avoided thinking about university. By the end I felt burnt out by school, and recognized that perfectionism was a serious issue for me. However, I didn’t know how to change. After having my make up professionally done for grad, I realized that I could be pretty if I tried. Up until now I thought I was an ugly, juvenile nerd. Harsh? Definitely. But it was my reality.  I remember feeling happy and proud at my high school graduation, but also sad as this era of my life was ending, and I’d have to adapt to something completely new in the Fall.