My name is Natasha and I am 18 years old.
When I think about my life, I’m never really sure when exactly I started hating myself.
I had suicidal thoughts when I was around 9 years old.
I was raised thinking I had no worth, no place in this world.
My stepmother starved me, beat me, and ridiculed me daily.
Despite my father telling me I was beautiful and wonderful, I felt like a true piece of crap.
I ran away at age 11 and was placed in a foster home.
My life only got worse from there.
I was abused there, so had to go to my mom’s house.
My mother was doing cocaine/meth and drinking a lot so parenting me wasn’t her concern.
I was really depressed all the time.
I always felt like I didn't belong anywhere.
Nobody wanted me... nobody could ever love me.
Then at 13 I met Zach....my first boyfriend...
come to find out he also was into drugs...drinking...and abuse.
But he told me he loved me. He gave me attention. He made me feel like I had worth.
Zach ended up changing my life forever, more so than Julie,
In fact, she is a raindrop compared to the storm he brought on.
Zach raped me, almost every day, for the 8 months we were together.
He took my virginity by knocking me out, and continued to do so.
I HATED myself. I blamed my body for his actions. I STILL do.
Now I was 13 when we got together, but while we were still together
I turned 14 and started my period.
Like any normal teenage girl, I had bodily changes afterwards and started getting hips and a new body that I still struggle with today.
So he told me these words that I remember so perfectly to this day, “You look bigger. You’d be so much prettier if your bones were sticking out."
So I took his advice, and starved myself. From that day on, I was NEVER the same. ever. I went from 115 to 91 instantly. And stayed that skinny for a while.
I was cutting everyday, hating my body more and more with every breath I took.
I couldn't handle what I felt, I still can't. He took my femininity, he stole my freedom, he destroyed me.
I continued starving myself, or hardly eating anything at all, over-exercising up until I was about 16-17.
I went into a treatment center for depression because I had tried killing myself.
In that place, I met a girl who was bulimic... well, she was anorexic too,
but she explained how better she felt after puking, how much relief she experienced.
And for me cutting wasn't doing the job anymore, none of it was.
I either had to kill myself, or find something else to forget everything, something else to make me numb.
That very day is when I met my best friend and worst enemy: bulimia.
I have been bulimic for almost a year now.
I went through phases at first where I did it for a little bit, then stopped for a few days even a month one time...but now a days I do it almost everyday, usually all day.
My life is miserable. My life revolves around the next binge, the next puking session...
I HATE my body, but I hate myself more.
Everything I see in the mirror is a disappointment, regret. Its not about being skinny anymore, it’s about forgetting, it’s about dealing. It’s about coming to terms with the pain I feel inside, which I cannot do.
I can't face myself, I can't face the memories... the hurt.
I don't see my life ever changing.
I’d love to be normal, happy, and free again.
I have so many goals and aspirations but my problems hold me back from all of them.
I destroy myself and my body because he destroyed my soul.
If I could go back and change it all and be normal, even chubby, I would.
This isn't worth it.
It never was.
I believe I’ll die doing this and feeling this way.
I’ve lost all hope.
-thanks for listening