Courage isn't the lack of fear, but the triumph over fear itself. It took a lot of courage for me to battle anorexia and depression, and to fight something that had become a part of me. My story begins and ends with a fight; a fight for control and a fight against the domination of disease.

I wasn’t overly skinny. My illness had hidden itself well. I wasn’t skin and bones on the outside, but mentally, there was nothing. I had exhausted myself through my endless mode of starvation, my relentless calculations of calories, and the omnipresent wish of death.

Anorexia attacked me the first time in 4th grade. I healed, but not completely. It attacked again my sophomore year, and brought with it depression and knives. The knives, I used to slice my skin when I was unable to feel a sense of control, and depression enabled the acts of self mutilation to continue.

I felt very helpless. I was controlled by my unrecognizable thoughts, and I did their every command. I hid myself from the world, hid my scars and my feelings, underneath the warm blanket of anorexia. I was slowly wasting away, and giving in to my fears and frustrations. I am ashamed to say that suicidal thoughts came as well, along with the blade and empty plates.

Eventually, I realized that I didn't want to die. I had dreams for the future, for writing books and seeing the world. I didn't want to lose all that because of my disease. I was very alone at this point. The only way out was through my parents. I would have to do the one thing I dreaded, and admit defeat.

It took a lot of willpower, which has made me that much stronger of a person. Beating down self taught instinct is mentally and physically exhausting. I realized this, as my parents explained how long recovery would take. As they told me this, I knew that I had the power to fight it. I had brought it upon myself. I knew its secrets.

When I first confessed to my parents how much I wanted to live, they were shocked. But, they promised to do everything they could to help me. In that moment, as I stood with tears in my eyes, shoulders hunched with embarrassment, I realized how much they loved me. They would give me the power to fight, the desire to live. I have never been so grateful for them, and their quiet understanding.

From my current perspective, it’s been difficult not to be angry over the lost time. But I stand here today, with power over myself. I was my own worst enemy. I am so thankful I was able to live, and become the person I am today. I know have dreams and desires, and can’t wait to change the world! Anorexia has become a thing of my past, and it will always be there, but I have the force to fight it.

It’s impossible to fight the war alone, which was probably my biggest realization. I do need my family. Without them, I wouldn’t have won. No war has ever been fought by one soldier. My family realized how strong we were to be able to fight through that together. They all gained a greater respect for the body and mind, and how powerful it truly was. We had all fought the war, and we had done it together.