Growing up with anorexia, I came close to losing my life. Several times. I remember the first time my eating disordered thoughts began. I was seven. 

I am blessed with an amazingly loving family. But even so, something in my brain told these me thoughts shouldn't be shared. That they were true, they were mine, and I needed to deal with them on my own. Little did I know that that is the nature of the disease: shame, secrecy, silence. 

As a composer, my purpose always seemed (keyword, seemed) straightforward. Even before I dealt with anorexia nervosa, I thought my sole reason for existence was to make music and have it heard. While that is a major goal of mine — as it is for any composer or artist out there — it’s by no means my reason to live.

While both anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa are associated with a litany of medical complications , with timely and successful treatment the vast majority of these complications do not leave permanent residual sequelae (conditions that are the result of a previous disease). 

I was raised with the belief that language is important.  I was taught that that the precision of my words could greatly affect the impact of what I say. When I first met my partner a little over two years ago, one of the main things we bonded over was our love of language. A creative writer herself, I could see how carefully she spoke.

British Member of Parliament, Brooks Newmark, was just 17 when he endured anorexia nervosa. He surely knows that overcoming the disease takes not only mass amounts of support, but research to help understand the dynamics of such a crippling eating disorder. Fortunately, the newly appointed minister of the Civil Society has recently donated his blood to a study that seeks to collect 25,000 samples from those who have suffered, by 2016.

“I am not as sick as the other women… I don’t need treatment.”

I heard this statement from time to time in my role as a support staff counselor in an eating disorder rehab. My response? I’d say,
 
“Interesting. Tell me, what makes you less sick than the others?”

The answers I would hear were:
“I am not that underweight…”
“I am not that overweight…”
“I am not as crazy as her…”
“I am not as angry as her…”

I would then ask,

When you’re struggling with an eating disorder and body dysmorphia, you and your body literally live on two different planets, you’re so far apart, so disconnected, so estranged.

You probably believe your body is ugly, repulsive, basically just a thing that’s connected to your head. A thing you don’t like or want and would give away in a heartbeat.

I’ve been there. I know exactly how it feels.

Hello, gorgeous people, my name is Nikki. I am a model, host, commercial actress, writer, believer and dreamer. I am an advocate for NEDA, and sponsor those in eating disorder recovery because I am a survivor of a 17 year battle with bulimia and anorexia. At the height of my modeling career, I was known for my beautiful curves; however in Europe as my battle with anorexia overcame me, I became known for my bones. Recovery for me has been filled with years of ups and downs but I decided from day one to never give up.

A few months ago, my 19-year old happy, healthy, anorexia-free son handed me a “thank you” card. Inside, Ben had written that his eating disorder had been “a struggle fought together not against each other”. He wrote that I was “a shining example to the world that love can overcome anything” and that “we would not be here today in such a state of contentment” if it had not been for my “sheer strength of willpower and motherly love”. Finally he thanked me “for being the one that never gave up”.

Well, the floodgates opened and I wept buckets!