Perfection

Heaving up the last bits of my dinner, I slouch down on my bathroom floor emotionless. Slowly, my hand reaches for the razor; staring at my arm, I make a small cut watching the blood ooze out. The sting of the cut wasn’t the best feeling but at least it was a feeling. I was always like this after I purged; emotionless and depressed. I always needed to feel something, anything after purging, so I cut.

I hadn’t always been this way; I used to happy and carefree. I used to wear short sleeve shirts and shorts because I didn’t have anything to cover up. When we’re children, we don’t let things get to us; we just live. But now that I’m a teenager, I notice things more; how I’m not skinny, how I don’t have perfect hair, and how I’m not good enough. Last year, I started purging; it wasn’t a long period of time that I would purge; I ended up stopping for six months. Then when I got in ninth grade, the purging started up again. The need to be perfect and thin grew stronger. Soon, I was consumed in my own misery.

The only problem with perfection is that it’s never enough. You reach a goal but that never seems to fulfill the need; the need to be thin. When you have an eating disorder, you start thinking differently; you start planning out meals, planning when to purge, and planning when to not eat. The need to be in control takes over and you lose yourself in the mess of the disorder.

My name is Lena, I’m bulimic and this is my story.