Living With Anorexia: Melissa Román
Restricting her diet from her teenage years to college finally led to collapse and recovery at a clinic.
I come from a very Catholic family in which everything has to be picture perfect, even if it's an illusion, like in "Desperate Housewives."
I was always thin, while my sister was the overweight one -- my mother put her on Weight Watchers when she was 12. Early on, I got the message from my mother that if you're thin, you get loved.
When I was in the ninth grade, we moved back to Nicaragua from Honduras, because democracy had been restored. All the girls in my new high school were so into dieting. I started restricting what I would eat and throwing up at the same time. My father caught me with laxatives once, but my family thought I just wanted attention. They didn't notice I wasn't getting my period.
Then I went to college at Louisiana State University. I looked at it as freedom, my ticket to salvation. I joined a sorority and there was much more pressure: LSU had a Latin community, but Latin girls didn't join the sororities, so I was the "different" one. Still, I made an incredibly close group of friends. My parents blame my eating disorder on the sorority, but they don't understand I would have had the same issues anywhere.
When they came for my graduation, they hadn't seen me in several months. They were shocked at how much weight I'd lost. They took me back to Nicaragua, where they took my passport away and wouldn't let me leave the country. But I couldn't get any real therapy there. I saw about seven therapists; one told me anorexia could be cured by pills, and another told me if I took vitamins I'd be fine.
I had no clear path ahead, and was just living at home with my parents. I was just going more and more downhill, and really depressed. The number on the scale was never good enough, no matter how low it got. In September of 2000 I finally told my dad, "If I don't get help, I'm going to die."