Content Notice: This story contains references to Disordered Eating.
Before I drove home from my Tae Kwon Do class, I texted one of my best friends.
“I’m going to tell them tonight. I need to tell you so that I actually do it.”
I needed help and I knew it, but I had gone months feeling unable to reach out, feeling paralyzed at the thought of talking to someone about how much I was hurting. No one seemed to see the pain I was living with. No one realized that my switch to the same small lunch every day, the constant excuses not to go out to eat, and my inability to watch cooking shows meant that something was seriously wrong with me.