My name is Regina. I never dreamed that I would be where I am today, and yet, I am here. I am alive. And it is because of this continuation in life that I MUST share my story with you. I believe it is a miracle that I am still living and breathing today, because that life was almost taken from me by a deadly eating disorder.
I grew up in a loving family. My mother is a Christian, but my father remains unsaved. There was always a lot of discord in our family, and my parents fought a lot. But, I was always the peace-maker, and I never made it known that their fighting hurt me too. Many hours I would spend upstairs crying to myself, only to wipe away those tears and put on the smile that everyone loved. I was never a fan of conflict, so I always tried to make everyone happy. I was your typical people-pleaser, all-A student, top "Godly knowledge", an aspiring violinist, and a perfectionist all the way. I learned at an early age to do everything within my power to make others feel good and be happy, and to push my own feelings aside. I never got angry. I programmed myself not to feel that emotion--- or any emotion. From the conflict in my family, I learned that emotions only hurt people. . .and I could not handle getting hurt. So, I dismissed my emotions.never dealing with them again. My family was very controlling, but only I could control how I felt.
I was always a skinny little girl. I could eat anything, and still be stick-thin. Momma called me "Bean-pole"; Daddy called me "Zipper". I took pride in that thinness for so long.it was my identity. But, around age 11, it took on a whole new meaning for me. I had been hurt by many people, and because of that, I decided never to trust anyone again. . .and it remained that way for most of my teenage years. My thinness became a quest of destruction, and my body repulsed me. Perhaps it was fueled by my hitting puberty---- for I was afraid (and probably still am) to become a woman instead of a little girl. But no matter what all took place to lead me there, I started down a deadly path of anorexia. I found out that even when others controlled everything about me, they could not control my weight or what I ate or didn't eat. I was in control of that--- or at least I thought I was. At first, I would only eat half of my lunch at school. Then, I'd start skipping breakfast. This went on into my teenage years until it got to a point where I weighed less at the age of 14 then I did when I was 11 years old. I no longer ate breakfast ever, I threw away my lunch at school, and I would do my best to eat minimally at dinner time. Often, I would chew my food up at the table, only to spit it into my napkin.
I have always been anemic, but during those years, I became excessively so. I got dizzy all of the time, and blacking-out was a daily occurrence. I passed out or fell down several times, but I always kept that mechanical smile---the smile telling everyone that I was all right.
It was at this age that my young career starting blossoming. My violin-playing became the passion of my life even more. I started playing the music of my ancestors, the Irish, and became the fiddler for a Celtic band. I have always been a hard-worker, pushing myself beyond normal limits, but this new-found love fueled this determination even more. I practice 7-8 hours a day, and loved every minute of it. The band grew, we produced several of our own recordings, and we started playing concerts on stages around our state. I felt amazing. My dreams were coming true. . .but the eating disorder was still there. With the added pressure of 'stage-appearance' and the added stress, my starving got even worse and I ate even less. I felt I needed to be perfect in all aspects, and that included looking perfect. To me, I never saw what everyone else saw, and when I looked in the mirror I saw nothing but imperfection.
And I remember it clearly now. December 23rd, 2001 , my self-hatred and stuffed-pain became too much. That evening, I took out a knife and cut my arm three times. I will never know what possessed me to even think of that, but I felt freedom and release from seeing what I had done. From that moment on, I found out that I could take care of the pain and my perceived imperfection on the inside by making it visible and painful on the outside. And that started my hellish trek into self-injury. My arms became a battlefield of all the pain I could not express emotionally, and day by day I would cut myself, roll down my sleeve, put on the smile hiding what I felt, and I would once again become the 'perfect girl' everyone believed me to be.
After a while of wearing long-sleeves all year-round and wincing in pain whenever anyone touched me, people started questioning me. So, I started being even more secretive and cut on my legs instead. It was at that same time I struggled to hide the fact that I did not eat. People would ask me questions and I would have to eat---just to show them that I was "fine." That's when I found restrictive-bulimia. I felt confident in the fact that I could starve myself, but if anyone ever made me eat, I could always get rid of the food by vomiting. The deception was a huge part of everything. I no longer was myself, but a mask of who I thought everyone wanted me to be. And deep down, behind those smiles, was a girl struggling to survive in her own self-hatred, hidden emotions, and imperfections.
My escape from myself came in three forms: starving, bleeding, or with my head peering into a toilet-----a far cry from the confidence I portrayed on stage. I felt so fake--- but that is all I knew. The real Regina had been lost since early childhood when she first found out that she would rather hide emotions then feel the pain of life.
I played this deadly game for years, getting sicker and sicker, and losing more and more of myself. However, after an amazing stage performance at the age of 17, my life came to a sudden halt. I was diagnosed with a deadly childhood cancer, and my days were filled with doctor appointments, surgeries, chemotherapy (losing my hair), radiation, sickness, and hospital stays. I thought that I would die, and doctors, family, and friends believed the same. My whole focus shifted to fighting to live, and I believe my faith is the only thing that kept me alive. God held me, protected me, and gave me the grace to be okay with whatever came in the face of the cancer. I grew stronger in Christ, and I was at peace with whatever He brought my way---be it life or death. I knew that God was in control and that He was being glorified through me.
However, even during that time, the eating disorder plagued me. I lost a lot of weight because of treatments, but the anorexic part of me loved it that way. I was not able to eat because of the sickness, so they hooked IV food up to me. I cried in the hospital, logically knowing that that food was saving my life during this cancer, but feeling awful because the eating disorder screamed that I "was not allowed to have any food" and that I would get fat from it----- when in reality, I was wasting away into a sickly waif.
After a while, miraculously, the cancer was put in remission and I started to get healthier. I felt it a blessing to even be able to eat without getting sick from chemotherapy, and I thought my worries with the eating disorder were over. After all, I had been given a second chance at life---cancer didn't kill me.I was alive! However, shortly after I was put in remission, the eating disorder picked up exactly where it left off. I had gained weight when my health returned, and the eating disorder would have none of it. So, I fell back into the starving and vomiting.but a new element was added---- laxatives. I was determined to get rid of any amount of food I ever had to put into my body.So, not only did I throw up after meals, but I would over-dose on laxatives too. This continued.I graduated from high-school as the valedictorian, and stood among peers and teachers, skirt hanging loosely from my deteriorating frame. . .thinking that after moving away from home to go to college I'd find a new life and not have so many problems. At least, that is what I hoped.
I moved to college at Cornerstone University , and honestly thought I was doing better. I only ate one meal a day, but I truly thought that that was 'normal' and 'okay'. I thought I was better. I gained weight and I was having fun with friends. I thought I was over any destructive behavior that plagued my past.
It was that first year in college that I met Jessica. God had a miraculous connection with her and I one evening. She shared her story of her struggling with eating disorders and cutting, and I could not believe my ears. I had never heard of anyone struggling with the same issues that I did. So, I told her my story, as well---and how I was recovering (which I honestly believed at that time). However, that same semester, I found myself cutting again, starving more, and purging.
That continued into the summer of 2005, where everything got extremely worse. I had my own apartment, and I was able to be even more secretive than I was before. The cutting got worse, and I barely ate. My break-time at work was spent vomiting into the toilet of a dirty public restroom---desperate to get rid of the food that my co-workers kindly offered to me to eat. My evenings were spent exercising compulsively and cutting before I went to bed. Jessica called me one evening when I was hurting so badly. I had been throwing up at least three times each day, and my legs were a bloody mess of scars and cuts. I confided for the first time that I was in trouble. I told Jess what was happening, and how I wanted to be free from all of it. So, over the phone, we communicated and started a plan to help me get better. I started with eating small and trying to keep it down. Together, we kept in touch, and I was able to eat between 500-1,000 calories a day for a couple of weeks----which was a huge accomplishment for me, as I had never eaten that much in years. But then, I panicked---I had no way to cope because eating disorders were the only way I knew how to deal with life. I plummeted. I started restricting, purging, and cutting even more. I had publicity photos taken for my music, and I felt that I looked hideous in them. I needed my control back.
