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...