The Mirror Lied: Surviving Bulimia

I can’t even remember the first time I felt like I wasn’t enough, but I know the feeling’s been there for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t just about being skinny—it was about control. Everything in my life felt chaotic, and the only thing I thought I could control was what I ate.

At first, I just started skipping meals. “I’m not hungry,” I’d say, even when my stomach was growling so loudly I thought everyone could hear it. But then came the binges. I’d eat until I felt sick—until I hated myself even more than before—and then the guilt would crush me. That’s when I started purging.

I thought I’d figured it out: eat, get rid of it, and pretend like nothing happened. But I was so wrong. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. It was about punishing myself for not being perfect, for not being enough.

The worst part was the secrecy. No one knew what I was doing, and I became an expert at hiding it. I smiled in photos, laughed at jokes, and acted like I was completely fine. But inside, I felt empty, like a shell of who I used to be.

I started losing energy—physically and emotionally. My hair got thinner, my skin looked pale, and I couldn’t even focus at school anymore. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw someone I hated staring back at me.

One day, after a particularly bad binge, I broke down in front of my best friend. She didn’t say anything at first; she just hugged me while I cried. I’ll never forget what she said next: “You don’t have to do this alone.”

That’s when I realized I needed help. My friend encouraged me to talk to a counselor, and even though I was terrified, I made the call. Therapy wasn’t easy—it forced me to confront all the things I’d been avoiding for so long. But slowly, I started to understand why I felt the way I did.

Recovery wasn’t linear. There were days I slipped up, days when I wanted to give up altogether. But for every bad day, there was a better one waiting. I learned to replace the voice in my head that said I wasn’t enough with one that reminded me I deserved love and kindness—especially from myself.

Now, when I look in the mirror, I don’t see someone who’s broken. I see someone who’s trying, someone who’s healing. And if you’re reading this and you’re struggling, I want you to know: you are so much more than your reflection.

Recovery is messy and hard, but it’s also worth it. You’re worth it. And even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, I promise there’s light waiting for you on the other side.