Thin: scarce, scant; not abundant or plentiful.

Scarce in body fat, scarce in control, scarce in rationality, scarce in sanity, scarce in self satisfaction, self love, and self confidence. This word corrupts and invades your mind until the only thing that is left is the obsession. The obsession that feeds and preys on it's victim like a parasite, and you are the frail host. It starts small, nothing but a swift thought. But the longer the thought lingers, the more permanent and harmful it becomes. The invaded mind is torn from rationality, and lacks a sense of reason. As you drift into the grasping hands of the devouring monster that threatens to tear you apart from reality, remember the word that started it all.

I'm Jewish,16 years old, I love skating, writing poetry, and animals. I am currently living life by a Japanese proverb; "Fall seven times, stand up eight". This is my story.

I once made a list of things I've lost to Anorexia, it included some of the following:
-Weight
-The ability to live
-The ability to be happy with myself
-Hair
-Control
-Passion
-Self confidence
-The ability to think clearly

"Dieting", a word used by an immense amount of people on earth. I found myself repeating this word through my mind. It was so desirable, no matter how hard it was I was determined to make it possible. It began with exercising for long periods of time after I ate, during my second year in high school. Summer came around, and I went to sleep-away camp. There was no treadmill in camp, so the only thing left to do was to eat less than I usually did. It wasn't as hard as most people imagine, since I was a vegetarian there weren't so many options. Back then I haven't limited my eating habits as much, and was therefore unhappy with the results. Many times, I have attempted to purge, and was very fortunate to have not been successful. Camp ended, and I was back at home forgetting about the weird behaviors. During my Junior year, they crept up on me when I found a calorie counter app on my Android, and soon that was all that I was thinking about. My hobbies included running around with my app scanning everything I ate. It looked pretty odd to everyone else, but to me it was very important and soon I couldn't go through a meal without knowing how many calories I was eating. One day, the trigger is still not known, I decided that I was going to take these weight "issues" into my own hands. I started only eating half of the portions that I was given. I reduced the amount of food at each meal, it was harder to detect because I was still eating something during three meals. Three meals became two, and eventually one. There were days when I wouldn't be home, for instance, my friend's birthday party. I took that "opportunity", as I called it, to not eat anything at all. I started becoming more obvious, when friends saw me throw out my food, and my mood was completely changed. One night I came home and found my parents looking through my garbage can, finding spit out food in paper towels. I was so mad at them, "how dare they look at my stuff?!" What I couldn't see was that they were trying to save me. My mom right away looked at me and told me how my face looked different, as in it was getting skinnier. A vein under my eye was bulging out, and my jaw bones were beginning to be very visible. I brushed her off, telling her how everything was fine, and how I was fine. Fine was the word I would use with everyone who shared some concern with me. After a speech given at my school, later I was told it was given for me and a few other girls, I was motivated to get help. I went to my parents and told them how I thought I had a problem, they contacted my doctor and got me a psychologist. I have seen eleven psychologists through out this horrific journey, many would be shocked at the number, I say it's a number of hope. Things were spiraling out of control, I started sinking into depression. One day I was so depressed, I was debating with myself whether I deserved to live or not. When I went to my psychologist, and was weighed, I was told that I needed a higher level of treatment. I ended up going to Long Island Jewish Hospital's eating disorder program for three weeks. It started at eight in the morning, and ended at around five thirty. The patients there receive group therapy everyday, and all kinds of activities to help understand the feelings that they were experiencing. We were watched every meal time, and had to finish everything. It was hard for me to accept, my disease stemmed from a lack of control, and now it was being taken away again. I slowly accepted the fact that these people knew what they were doing, and that if I ever wanted to live again I needed to trust them. Throughout my Anorexia, I felt so alone. Not because I was alone at all, in fact I had amazing friends who cared for me so much, and amazing parents too. It's the disease that makes people feel so alone, it made me feel like my life was over. I would be forever indulged in the silent battle in my head over whether or not to lift the fork to my mouth, and if I talked myself into doing so, I tasted only shame. There were times when I would cry asking myself what I did to deserve such hell. “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” -Oscar Wilde

Today I am learning to live, to do the things I love, and to think about my future.

I can't say that I am completely recovered from this mind consuming disease, since it is an ongoing struggle that can't be turned on and off. I am currently meeting every week with my therapist, and every two weeks with a doctor and nutritionist. Everyday I am trying to stay strong, and with the amazing support group of friends and family, I know that recovery is possible. With out struggle there is no progress.