Rock Bottom

I could tell you about all of the crazy diets I’ve ever done, and how they all temporarily worked, but ultimately fell apart. I could tell you about all of those uneventful days, and unmemorable moments of watching my number go down on the scale. But truthfully, those moments were nothing more than a blip on my map. Instead, I thought I’d share with you one of my most memorable moments. A memory for so long, I had wished I could erase.

This moment wasn’t memorable for the weight I had lost, or for the compliments I had received. It was memorable for the fact that for the first time in my life, there existed something more important than being thin. It first time that I cared about something deeper than physical appearance. It was the first time I discovered self-worth.

My most memorable moment began with a pretty routine errand for me: shopping. Not just any shopping, but grocery shopping. A task that I looked at as a challenge. A challenge to find the healthiest foods, and an opportunity for others to see how committed I was to my diet.

I don’t remember exactly what I came in for that day, but I do remember scanning the aisles filled with diet products, and locking eyes on a bottle of weight loss pills.

Before I could convince myself otherwise, I picked up a $15 bottle of pills that would change my life. My logic? – short money for a big solution.

For the next couple of days, I would dig into my secret medicine cabinet, stashed with the best $15 weight loss hack money could buy.

A couple of days later, I would be met with one of the worst days of my life.

I had dinner plans that night that I was looking forward to, and reactions to my appearance, I was eager to hearing. I did the usual preparations all women do before an event: shower, makeup, hair, outfit. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing especially notable.

Just as I was about to walk out of the door, I paused, and the thought that would change everything, crossed my mind, “what if I double up on pills today”. This thought, that I decided to act on, undenounced to me, would be the reason that I start my first social media platform.

Without a second thought, I swallowed another pill, grabbed another diet coke, and walked out of the door for the night.

Upon arriving to the restaurant, I ordered a diet coke; my fourth or fifth of the day, and an entrée; just about the only thing I had put into my body that day.

I ordered an entrée I deemed appropriate for my diet, and waited to eat my first meal of the day. While waiting, I took a sip of my diet coke, and began to notice that I could barely swallow the small volume of liquid that I held in my mouth. I felt an electrical impulse of panic surge down my spine, and my anxiety kicked in, full throttle. I abruptly got up from the table, announcing, “I think I’m gonna be sick”.

I remember walking to the bathroom, unbalanced, disoriented, and scared. I pushed my way through the heavy metal doors, walking into the biggest stall there was. I hung my heavy head over the toilet bowl, unsure of what was happening, but consciously aware that this was something I had never felt before.

In a matter of minutes, my eyes would become tiny little pools of tears, and my arms would lose all feelings of strength. Cool shivers and hot spells would hit my body at the speed of light, and impending fears of doom would knock me down. I soon would grab for my phone with shaking hands, and call my mom, telling her that I think I am dying. I could not explain the feeling, and I could not reasonably come up with a diagnosis that made sense, but I knew something was not right.

Minutes later, my friend would accompany me in the bathroom. She would see the look of pure panic, and fear on my face, signaling that this was no stomach bug; this was serious.

My friend grabbed my hand, and escorted me to the car where I would be driven home for my parents to take care of me. On the way home, my vision would begin to disappear, and my left side would begin to fall completely numb. I would hang my head out of the window, desperate for a cool gust of wind to take away my fears, and to relieve this impending sense of doom.

I would then begin to beg the driver to take me to the hospital; a request I had never made in my life. I was sure that I needed medical attention immediately, and I was sure that this was an emergency.

Upon arrival to the ER, discombobulated, and disoriented, I would run past my mom, and straight to the main lobby of the ER, desperate for help. I begged for anyone, someone, to find out what was wrong with me.

I could barely breathe, and I could barely talk, without the fear of dying overtaking my speech. I could not focus on anything other than the stroke-like symptoms I was feeling. I was taken back for a full body examination, and received my diagnosis in a matter of minutes. The diagnosis: caffeine overload.

The doctor would begin to ask my mom and I what this could be a result of, and before the Dr could finish her sentence, my mom would pull out that $15 bottle of pills.

My head fell in shame, and my body sunk in despair. I could not believe that something anyone could buy, could cause so much harm. I had never been so scared in any other moment of my life.

While this experience was completely and utterly terrifying, I would relive it if it meant finding complete and total peace in my relationship with food, and my body .

This experience would become my identity for the next year. Frequent emergency room visits, consistent emotional phone calls with mom, and regularly terrified moments of anxiety - something I never thought I would have to deal with. I was scared of dying. I was scared of that moment happening again, and it not being a “drill”. The next year consisted of an anxiety level so great, I could barely recognize myself.

That small, $15 bottle of pills changed my life. While it was positive, and brought upon a whole new life for my body and I, it brought upon the battle of dealing with daily anxiety; a challenge I never truly understood the strength of, until I myself, became paralyzed by it.

Ridiculous diets that promise results too good to be true are never worth your money, and certainly are never worth the mental destruction you will face. While this memory is hard to relive, it is one that has helped to form an identity that I am proud of. I needed a reason to stop the destruction, and I needed a rock bottom to lift me back up to the top.

Whoever you are, wherever you are, if you are reading this, let this be your sign to stop the dangerous cycle, and begin the life changing journey.

I hope to use this blog as a platform to share my story, spread my message, and build a community full of people who love themselves, and love their bodies. I hope to create a safe space that allows struggling individuals to reach their goals, before hitting their rock bottom. And I hope to be the fuel that fires that spark of hope, in those unsure of their next steps.