April 8, 2000

Dear Diary,

I'm so scared. I almost died today. I think I might need help, but I don't want to tell anyone what happened.

I ate too much today. I haven't binged like that in a while. I had a mountain of candy bars before gulping down an entire pizza. I was going to purge it out, and then go running. But, when I got rid of it, the chocolate came up first and kind of burned my throat. Then, when I "coughed up" the pizza, the mozzarella cheese wasn't chewed or digested because I had eaten it so fast.

The long strings of cheese were lodged in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I was choking, and my eyes were watering. I reached my fingers down into my throat, trying to pull the strands out.

Then, thank God, I remembered how to do a self-Heimlich maneuver from this lesson we had in health class last year. I was by a park bench, so I leaned my stomach onto it and pushed, while at the same time clawing at the strands of cheese with my hand.

The cheese came up in a big ball, and suddenly, I couldn't stop. Usually, I can control things, but the vomit just kept coming. I kept puking and puking, and then after the food, blood came out. It was bright red and frothy. Finally, when it stopped, I was bent over, coughing and gasping for air. There was blood all over my shirt and snot running down my face.

It's the scariest thing that's ever happened to me. I thought I was going to die. I'm so afraid. I don't know what to do. I can't keep living like this anymore.

Help,

Jessie

April 9, 2000

Dear Diary,

Kim and Dana just came into my room. Dana was holding this diary and my food log in her hands, and Kim was crying in sad little sniffles. My body just went cold, my palms started to sweat, and my legs started shaking. I forced myself to get up, grabbed ahold of Kim's arm, and led them into their bedroom, where we could shut the door and talk with some privacy.

"We found your diary," Kim whispered.

"We read it," Dana said, elbowing Kim in the ribs a little bit.

"OK," I answered. It was all I could think of to say. We just sat there, looking at each other. Me on Dana's bed, and both the girls on Kim's. I took a deep breath, trying to think of some explanation.

"We don't want you to die," Dana said. At the same time, Kim whimpered, "Do you think we're fat?"

I wanted to cry. I came over onto the other bed and they made a space between them. I put one arm around each of them, and hugged them to me. We all cried a little bit, and I leaned over to kiss the top of Kim's beautiful little blond head, "Sweetheart," I assured her, "you are not fat." Then, I kissed Dana's identical head, "And, I'm not going to die. I promise."

"But look," Kim said, stretching out her arm, "my arm is the same size as yours, even though you're older, and you keep saying that you're too fat and no boys will like you. So, how will any boys ever like me? If Dana and I are this big now, we'll probably be three times as big by the time we're your age."

I took a deep breath. They were facing each other, examining their thin arms worriedly, trying to see how much skin and baby fat they could pinch with their tiny fingers. Their little wrists were crossed in my lap, and as I looked at my hands next to theirs, I realized that they weren't completely wrong.

I don't know now actually. I felt they were right at the time, but maybe they were wrong. I don't know. Now, I just feel confused, but looking at them, I realized that they're both ten, going on eleven in only a few months. And that's when it all started for me—when I started middle school and everything in my life changed and suddenly became complicated.

So, I hugged them both and said the words I'm sure to regret tomorrow. "You're not fat," I started, "I just have this problem where I'm not ever good enough. And sometimes, that's because I feel fat and gross inside..."

"Like the part with the pimples," Dana asked.

I winced. I should have gotten a better hiding place. "Right. Like the part with the pimples. Pimples are gross and filled with bad stuff, and you're not supposed to squeeze them out because they leave a scar. But when you do, it sometimes feels good to get all that gross stuff out of you. So, it's like that. It's not good to make myself sick, but it makes me feel better because I'm gross on the inside."

"I'm gross on the inside," Kim practically wailed, "but, they told us in Sunday school that it doesn't matter how black or gross you are because Jesus can just take that away and make you clean. So can't you just do that? Just pray and stuff?" She looked at me, expectantly and my heart dropped.

I answered, "I guess I could start there, but..."

It was hard to finish that thought because sometimes I believe in those things, but I have a lot of doubts too. I hadn't prayed in a while, and also, even if God is real, you can't expect Him to be like Santa Claus, bringing you whatever you want and fixing every problem just like snapping your fingers.

But, I didn't want to express these thoughts out loud because I couldn't remember right then whether they still believed in Santa Claus, and I didn't want to ruin that for them too. So instead, I continued, "I think I might need help from people down here I can actually see and talk to."

"Like one of those places Mom and Dad found," Dana asked, bouncing up and down.

"Did they put you up to this, or did you two just totally ransack my room like secret agent spies?"

"We ransacked your room," Dana shrugged nonchalantly. "You don't have a door anymore, and we were curious."

"And Mom was out grocery shopping, so we had plenty of time," Kim added. "But Jessie, one of those places has horses. Wouldn't that be fun? Then, you can do horses and go away like a real camp."

"Well, I'd miss school," I said, trying to explain.

"Seriously," Dana rolled her eyes like a much older teenager. "Who cares? School is boring, and you'd get to play around with horses all day. I'd do it."

"You wouldn't miss me?" I tried.

"We'd miss you," Kim said, "but you're going away for college soon anyway. We don't want you to die, and you said yesterday that you almost did. You were choking and throwing up blood and everything."

I held back my tears; I didn't want them thinking they were fat and ugly and ending up like me in a few years—with no boyfriend, no friends, and no life. And, I didn't want to have another incident where I passed out, or threw up blood, or worse. So I just nodded, unable to actually say yes. They hugged me, and I told them to get into bed.

When they left, I looked through the brochures and found the one with the horses. Then, I took it into Mom and Dad's room. "This one," I said, tossing them the brochure, "but I'll only agree to go if you can figure out a way for me to take my AP exams next month. I don't want to fall behind." Then, I just walked away because I was afraid they would say something that would make me angry and I'd change my mind.

I don't know if I did the right thing. But, I can't keep going on like this. I'm so tired of all the lies. Lying and hiding things and pretending to be perfect all the time is exhausting. I can't keep up. I'm too tired to fight anymore.

Love Always,

Jessie