For over 16 long and traitorous years I struggled deeply from disordered eating in some form. Anorexia nervosa was the primary diagnosis, intertwined with bulimia and eating disorders not otherwise specified as time went on.
After falling into a particularly bad relapse in five years ago, I gave myself a difficult ultimatum; I either recovered fully, or I would be dead by 30.
I turned 30 last September and it was then that I realized I’d made the right decision. As with any mental illness, some days are better than others.
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