I was a very happy-go-lucky kid. My favorite things in the world were coming home from school, getting the chance to play with my dog, going to church on Sunday, and reading Goosebumps books. You might say I was like any child.

For my entire existence, I have been at the mercy of my chronic illness. Over the course of my short life, I was subjected to many surgeries to deal with it. These surgeries were often ineffective, painful and forced me to spend almost all of my holidays in bed.

The doctor informed me of a new, innovative drug that would be the answer to my prayers. They made it sound as if all I had to do was take 3 pills every day and I would have no more symptoms. Growing up, the kids who played sports were the most popular. I ultimately decided at 12-years old that I should take these pills and then I would be able to play sports and be confident and then I would have everything that I wanted.

Instead, these pills made me want to die because of my physical disability. My motor skills are very limited, so the only thing I could think to do was deprive myself of food. And I did. I would stay up all night eating huge quantities of Chex Mix, ice cream and anything else I could get my hands on, and then I would go to the bathroom and throw it up.

The thing no one tells you about Bulimia is that you get addicted to the endorphins that are released by your brain when your body is under the stress of purging. This went from something I did when I was hurting to something I did all the time.

I had a really difficult time coming clean to my parents. Eventually I did, with the help of my school social worker, who I’m still thankful for to this day. I was able to get help and get better, but the thing is, you don’t get better. Everyone tells you that you go through ups and downs when it’s something you want to do.

It’s been a struggle to tell my parents that I relapsed in 2016. I had left home and I was in a very toxic relationship. I internalized the fact that he cheated on me and that he was lazy, so I  started indulging in my old habits when he was out of the apartment.

Eventually he came home, and I regained control over my life to the best of my ability. But I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m going to fall off the wagon again. Graduation seems like a shadow that is sliding over my shoulder ready to drag me down to Hell. I still have a lot of social anxiety and I worried that I’ll be overwhelmed at the ceremony and I won’t be able to control my vomiting. No one tells you that Bulimia is used to control nervousness and that you rely on it at first when you are nervous or upset.

I am worried because during my last job interview I had to run to the bathroom and get sick. Luckily, it’s over the phone so I lied to my potential employer.

I don’t know if I’ll ever really get better and I feel like this is something that’s over my shoulder all the time.

I feel like this eating disorder is a monster that’s never going to die. I absolutely despise it and want to kill it but I worry that I’ll never succeed.