Stepping onto an anonymous place, I asked ‘Daddy, why do the people look so different?’ he smiled and whispered ‘Look around, you are now in the United Kingdom, a whole new world’. And indeed, a whole new world it was. Truly oblivious at the age of six, I had migrated from my home country, Mongolia to England.
At the time I never understood why my parents chose to live through such hardship. Hardship which consisted of my father working two full-time jobs, while earning his degree and my Mother earning up to her capability upon her tiresome jobs. I failed to see that the only thing that kept them going was me. I was their world, their golden girl, and their fuel to live. Carelessly, at one point in my life, I had nearly thrown away their entire burden. And through what? Through my own act of stupidity which lead for my extreme eating disorder.
It all began in Year 4, I had yet again transferred to a new primary school, but this time it was different. It was in a small town with hardly anyone who looked similar to me. This intrigued the others into teasing me, making remarks every time I entered/exited the classroom, tormenting me at recess… Sobbing I would run home and pretend nothing ever happened. Hiding my feelings was the toughest part…especially from my Mother. Then, after days of dejection, I ran into a solution, ‘Eat’. Helping to take my mind off things while making me feel safe and secure; food was my only comfort. Soon it became a habit, everyday I would run home crying and binge until I block out all the hurtful memories.
After two years, I was done with my ‘Eat’ regime and was in Secondary School. Then came the day, in Science class, Mr.Espin had us measure our weight, fat and BMI. Pleased that the others didn’t make any remark, I soon came to acknowledge the hard fact that this time I had to swallow a bitter pill from my actions. From that day on, I had decided thoroughly on something and that was indeed, to lose weight.
Feeling like a girl on a mission, I started to do everything possible to achieve my goal. Dieting until 'food' was my only enemy, 'water' my main fuel and 'Exercise' my best friend. There were the days where I could see the outcome of my hard work and feel proud and most importantly, satisfied from the resemblance I saw in the mirror...but I had completely lost my sense of limit. At first I told myself "Just 5 more kilos...” then it converted to “7 more” and “10 more”. My family, friends and professionals would beg me to stop, but a more dominant impulse from my brain would tell me that they were fibbing and that I must obey the ‘Rules’.
One day, after an ‘oh-so frequent’ quarrel with my mum, I was hiding up in my bedroom, puffing to my daily sit ups. Suddenly, my mum came barging into the room…all watery eyed. Trying act totally oblivious, I shouted at her “What happened to knocking?”. After failing to take off, I was forced to sit and acknowledge a photo in her left-hand and a tissue box in the other. Quavering, she passed me the photo. I stared at it.’ What on-earth was she on about?’ I wondered silently. It was a picture of an ‘anorexic’. Then it hit me, BANG. It was me.
Days passed as I battled against my eating disorder. I realized that my anorexia was not only hurting me, but also making me hurt the ones I love. Through my wrongdoing I was not only digging my own grave but most importantly throwing away the sweat, the sacrifice and the love that my parents had given me. I am now fully proud to announce that I have fully overcome my eating disorder. Having done so makes me feel as if nothing is impossible for me to for fill.