WARNING: the following information is intense and may not be suitable for all audiences....

I remember sitting across from the dietician. she asked me when I had last gotten sick. I told her not since last week. She raised her eyebrows and said no one just stops after getting sick 4-5 times a day for the past year and starving themselves before that.

My counselors said they just kept waiting for the bottom to drop out. But it never did.

I had an eating disorder for 5 years, but the irony is that most of that time I didn't even know it. I was surrounded by so many other people on diets;  I thought they were doing the same thing I was and therefore didn't find anything wrong with it. Eventually those thoughts went from "everyone is doing it" to "no one else thinks what I'm thinking, or does what I'm doing".  That was when I started to lie about it, to hide what I was eating or wasn't eating, to hide the fact that I was making myself sick, and to separate myself from anyone that would become suspicious, even those that were dearest to me.  And that, my friends, was a very lonely place.

Many of you don't know this deepest darkest secret of mine, probably because it  was just that, a deep dark secret, and you know how those work.  I hid it, because I was ashamed and embarrassed and worried about what people would think of me. But I promised my Father in Heaven that if He could make even MY weakness a strength (see Ether 12:27...I seriously thought I was the exception), then I would do anything and everything I could to make sure NO ONE feels like I felt. And I can't help those who don't know who to go to for help (or rather, who can direct them to the best help.)

When I was younger and heard about people that had addictions like smoking, drinking, drugs, or even eating disorders, I thought they were bad people. I just knew that People that starved themselves were vain and foolish and all they wanted was to look good at any cost.

It wasn't until I became one of them that I realized how untrue those farces were.

I'm not a bad person, for the record. I'm quite a good person, actually. I even got a young women in excellence award in 2002, and a leadership scholarship in 2004. beat that. I also served an amazing mission, where I had the opportunity of serving people and helping people come to Christ every day, multiple times daily. Unfortunately, that didn't leave me exempt from the feelings and emotions that lead to eating disorders.

Why the somber tell-all?  I guess its a big leap for me, as I’m unsure what response to expect from all of you.  But, I feet it necessary to express my deep love for what I do now, and who I am now.  Still the same person, just one that I accept and love for exactly what it is.  I don't think you could truly know the depth of my gratitude to my Savior and to my Father and to my current circumstances (job, AMAZING husband, etc) without first knowing why I'm passionate about it.

This is what led me to choose BOTH of my current jobs.  The one I want to focus on in this post is  notMYkid.org, a nonprofit organization where people that have recovered from addictions go into schools and tell their story, in hopes that if we can get them (the kids) living it first hand through OUR story, they'll choose not to live it first hand themselves.  I've only spoken twice now, but its already one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. Once I went to the Juvenile Detention Center, and once to an elementary school, where I was approached on two occasions from girls that struggled with eating disorders themselves. At the ripe old age of 12.

Well, yours truly just got promoted to the best/most daunting/most spiritually, emotionally,and behaviorally challenging job I've ever had. Its a very sobering position to be in, listening to the unedited version of people's stories that have been addicted to meth for 10 years, or hear a parent tell me how they were too ignorant and naive and scared to recognize their former eagle scout was addicted to heroin. I walked out yesterday drained and grateful, scared and proud. I can't imagine, and I am SO GRATEFUL that I can't imagine what that would be like, parents searching for me behind dumpsters, washing my clothes that I found in a hotel bathtub, waking up under an overpass in the arms of some unknown man in an unknown city with a dirty needle next to my body. I try to hide my horror and sadness, but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. My only fear with my new job is that I'll get good at it pretty quick.  The shock factor will wear away, I won't cringe at hearing how many times they've lost loved ones, how they felt seeing their parents cry, or how many times they slept in trash cans.

But I can truly say that I love what

I do, and I love where I am, and most of all, I love WHO I am.  

And that, my friends, is a dream. come. true.