I developed an eating disorder.
The only thing I could think of was; as long as i'm thin enough, the world will love me. Guys will like me, I'll have lots of friends...bla bla, but of course this was far from the truth.
Instead of going off to university like everyone else, I had to be admitted into a treatment facility, cause I stopped eating and lost a lot of weight. I was THIN! But miserable as f*ck!!!
This went on for quite some time. In and out of treatment, running away from my issues too scared to deal with them. I knew I was destroying my body with 6 hours of exercise a day, not eating or eating just enough to stay alive, losing a lot of hair, very compulsive behaviors like: counting every calorie, weighing my food, stepping on the scale 10 times a day, throwing up etc. This just had to stop!
I didn't want my life story to be: SHE WAS THIN. In my mind the only way I would get better was by leaving everything behind and starting over somewhere else, despite the fact that of course i would take myself with me wherever I went. I left at 18 to go traveling in hopes to find a way out and ended up living and working in Australia and New Zealand for two years, by myself. As time went by I did get a lot better, made friends for the first time in my life and being surrounded by incredible nature definitely helped. Unfortunately it didn't fix it all.
When I came back from traveling I still had many unresolved issues with myself and it was time to deal with them. I just wanted to feel and be 'normal' again. A couple of years and lots of tears later I scraped every little bit of courage I had in me together and called a treatment facility to deal with it once and for all. A week later I flew to South Africa where I spent the next three months in rehab. It was the hardest thing I have ever, ever, ever done. It's very confronting and nothing was left unresolved.. Of course it took a little longer than the three months in treatment to heal but I can tell you...