sara88
My story? I don't really have a story yet. Even when I was a little girl, I was always ten to twenty pounds heavier than kids my age. I always felt really bad about it then. What I wouldn't give to go back to those days, and start over. At eleven, I started falling into a severe depression, brought on by incidents in my early childhood. Being at an age to actually understand what had happened to me, I was overcome with guilt and inner rage and sadness. When I was a little girl, and I was mad, I'd take it out on my younger sisters. By the time I was eleven, I'd learned that I was too big to "fight" with them. But I'd never been taught the proper way to take care of my anger. So, I retreated to my room. And I ate. And I ate.. And I ate. I would stay in my room all day, and at night, when everybody was asleep, I'd go downstairs and cook. Usually junk-type food.
By the time I started the seventh grade at twelve years old, I was around 160 pounds. Going back to school was hard for me. I wasn't teased.. all that much.. instead, I was ignored.. unless it was to talk about me when my back was turned. Everywhere around me, former classmates were whispering.."Yeah.. she's really gained a lot of weight over the summer.." and then they would look right through me. I retreated in myself more. My life was simple. I fought not to go to school. Sometimes I won, sometimes I lost. I slept. I ate. I stayed in my room all the time. At the end of my seventh grade year, I was over two hundred pounds, and just about to turn thirteen years old. And I'd been to the emergency room twice for overdosing on my "anti-depressants". At the time, I truly thought I'd be better off dead. Now I believe it was a call for attention. To me.. to my problem. I don't know.
At fourteen, I tried to take my life back. I pushed myself out of depression. Or maybe I got better at hiding it. I was the person my friends went to with their problems. I was the person who always had a happy smile, and I could help everybody out. But not myself. I'm sitting here right now, and I'm two hundred and eighty-five pounds. I've watched my teenage years go by, wasted. And if I don't act now, my twenties will pass me by, and by the time I'm thirty, where will I be? Dead? I don't know. Maybe I do have a story. But is it over? I don't think so.
