I have never been a perfect child or teen. But I have always strived to become perfect – grade wise, character wise and body wise. I had accomplished a great personal feat by being accepted to New York City’s best high school: Stuyvesant High School. This definitely gave me a boost in confidence and naturally urged me to aim solely for Ivy League universities. I wanted to be perfect – the ideal person and student and end up at an ideal school. That was all I knew three years ago.

    Now an upcoming senior at the same high school, I have reached the nadir of my life only a few weeks ago. My perfectionism had finally devoured me like a ruthless monster. It made me become a coward and increasingly vulnerable to many illnesses. Once my school grades sunk drastically due to heavy competition among my peers, I was desperate to have some sort of control in my life. I intended to shed a few pounds to at least accomplish an ideal weight if an ideal transcript wasn’t possible.

    So I lost five pounds, which easily became ten, fifteen, twenty and twenty-three. I was eighty-two pounds, still unhappy, still feeling flawed. My grades continued to drown and I was drowning as well. I unknowingly developed anorexia nervosa and I refused to admit that I had such a shameful and almost foolish illness. Each day, I spent hours recounting the calories I had consumed or thought about food during each class in school. I made sure I only consumed eight hundred or less calories (a healthy teen consumes anywhere from 1,800 to 2,400 calories on a daily basis). My hair fell out, I was weak and tired and I was dizzy due to the extreme diet. My blood pressure dropped. Finally, I was left clinically depressed.

    Six months with an eating disorder seemed like an entire decade because living was so difficult. I was always tormented by food and feared gaining weight because I was desperate to remain thin. I avoided public events if I felt “fat” though I was still in the eighties. I avoided public events that required some sort of eating. I lost friends this way, even the closest ones, because they were busy studying for college when I was busy finding methods to avoid food or burn calories.

    Fortunately, I sought help when all went completely loose in my life. I wanted to die. Due to my depression, my appetite noticeably increased and I was soon consuming 3,000 to 4,000 calories per day. Ironically, I was still lethargic and slept nearly twenty hours. I screamed in agony of my low grades, my weight gain and my clear inability to accomplish something – anything, for that matter – in this world. I thought about dying every day for three months.

    Now, I am in recovery. My transcript reads lower numbers and my scale reads higher numbers but I have finally tasted happiness. Although it cost me a long and arduous journey for me to reach happiness, I honestly felt it was worth it. I have accepted the extra fat on my thighs, the grades that are lower than what I used to consider ideal and I have accepted myself. Receiving straight A’s, being eighty-two pounds and attending a top-notch school was not the answer and will never be. The experiences of depression and my past eating disorders still taunt me but in a positive aspect. They remind me that I must be stronger mentally and work twice as harder than before, for my own good. Hence, I have planned out my summer vacation intricately (mostly to inhibit myself from having negative thoughts which can easily evolve into a relapse) by keeping a balance with time spent with family, studying, personal leisure, friends and health.

    Depression, anorexia and bulimia are like a common cold. There are cures. I rely on my strong will to move forward, my understanding psychiatrist, my antidepressants and all the people who love me. It was a mistake for me to have these illnesses but I have learned through what seemed to be an endless chain of consequences, sacrifices and painful losses.