It did not start as a problem. It started as a way to cope.

Nobody wakes up deciding to lose control. For me it started as something to quiet the noise — the pressure, the sleepless nights, the feeling that I was falling behind everyone. It worked, until it didn't, until the thing I used to cope became the thing I needed to cope.

The shame kept me silent for a long time. Admitting it felt like admitting I was a bad person. I've learned it's not about being bad — it's about pain that had nowhere to go.

Recovery isn't a straight line and I'm still on the road. But it started with one honest conversation. If you or someone you love is here, help exists, and you don't have to figure it out alone.