Yes, this is another article about eating disorders. I know you've had your fill. From the myriad of testimonials, which appeared last semester in The Observer to every awareness article you've read this week, you are on the brink of developing a new disorder — a sickness spawned by reading too many sob stories about young women who suffer from either bulimia or anorexia.

Only your disorder is of a far more dangerous kind because it reflects the attitude you carry towards this issue. An attitude that if not changed today will continue to plague you, your family and the Notre Dame community. Apathy, indifference, call it what you will, but if you think that eating disorders do not affect you and you call yourself a Domer, you suffer too. You not only suffer from your own sickness but you contribute to the suffering of others, those students diagnosed with these diseases and those students and counselors trying to help them. I know, you don't think you can possibly handle another article on eating disorders, but I implore you to read on. Because this article is written by someone who was just like you.

Three years ago, when I arrived on this campus, the issue that was the furthest from my mind was eating disorders. I was so excited to be here, so happy in this wonderland that I really forgot about suffering altogether. If you had asked me in the first several weeks or even months what I thought about U.N. inspections in Iraq or Clinton's foreign policy involving the former Yugoslavia, I couldn't reply. I, like so many other students on this campus, became absorbed by my new life, filled with new friendships, new classes and of course a new football season.

Naively, I began to think that nothing could go wrong on this hallowed ground. No one suffered here. I thought this until that fateful day when my roommate, my new best friend, told me she was bulimic.

I describe that day as fateful because it truly changed my life, but the truth is I can't really remember much about the moment at all. I know I didn't even suspect that she was bingeing and purging, so I know I didn't question her. But my friends and I had suspected another friend of being bulimic and we would talk about it alot, especially after meals. My roommate was nearly always present for these discussions. I think that's why she decided to tell me that she suffered too. Looking back, I think about how much it must have hurt her, our shallow assessment of this other girl, transposing our judgements about her onto herself. Looking back, I can see how my apathy towards and my inexperience in dealing with eating disorders truly affected, if not harmed, my roommate.

So, she told me she was bulimic. Not to sound crass, but I was glad for an instant. Happy that within a few months we had bonded enough for her to share something so intimate, so private. Also, for a few fleeting weeks I thought she would get over it. What did I know? I had never dealt with this before. We would talk. I would ask her if it was a good or bad day. I would ask her if she saw her counselor. I began to play mother hen. And I never questioned her honesty. With this minor bump in the road, life went on as usual. I went back to being absorbed by college life and the idea that no suffering happened here, at least any that couldn't be placated with a little care and some counseling.

And then she didn't wake up. Again, it took me a while to recognize something wasn't right. Everybody skips a few classes when they get to college. No parents, no calls from the school secretary. And when your first class is Calculus at 8:30, you sleep in. But my friend didn't just sleep in, she went into hibernation. And I naturally began to worry. I had to deal with that fine line between being a friend and following my parental instinct. At first I remained the friend. It wasn't my job to make her get up. If she didn't want to go, I wouldn't force the issue.

Instead, I began to adopt her pattern. I would go to class but immediately come back and sleep. I wouldn't work or interact. I would just sleep. I would sleep to try to recapture that dream world where no one suffered. I would sleep to avoid the problem, but as I slept, the issue — her eating disorder — began to plague us both.

I would sometimes ask how things were going, but I noticed a distance had come between us. Worried that my questions worsened the situation, I stopped asking. Big mistake. Because after that point I started focusing on myself. I looked at her and saw this beautiful girl who got tons of attention from the male species, and I would think how I would kill to be her. Then I would think how unfair it was that she got all the attention when she cheated to look that way. Then I would think about how I couldn't seem to help her and how I had failed her as a friend. Making her problem disappear, saving my friend, was my goal. And I was a failure.

During this time, my own self-esteem plummeted. And worst of all, I had lost my best friend, my confidant, to this disease. I didn't know what to do. I called my parents crying every other day, but the moment they mentioned transferring I said no way. I still believed in the mystical power of this place that would someday make everything all right. My initial solution was to move off-campus, a little distance would solve everything. Unfortunately, my new roommate was also bulimic.

I kept trying to tell myself that eating disorders were not my problem. I certainly didn't suffer from one, I wasn't binging and purging after every meal. But I did suffer, like so many other students trying to cope with friends who have eating disorders. And I needed help. It's so hard to admit that you suffer because of your friend's problem. She's hurting and she will struggle for the rest of her life with this disease. How could I begin to compare my coping difficulties with the problems faced by my friend?

After almost two years, two friends/roommates with bulimia, denial after denial, chunks in my shower and people constantly telling me their solutions about my friends' problems, I admitted I had a problem. I was overwhelmed. I was depressed. I wanted it all to go away. I needed help and I needed to admit that eating disorders were my problem. I decided I needed to confide in others even if that meant revealing my friend's secret. I had to address my problems about eating disorders before I could hope to help my friends. I had to learn how to help them without betraying myself.

If you live on this campus and you think eating disorders are not your problem, you're so wrong. If you have a friend with an eating disorder, don't be afraid to get help for yourself before you try to help them. Your ability to cope is critical to opening the lines of communication and maintaining honesty in the friendship. You also have to admit you will never cure your friend's disease. Just listen, listen to them, but most importantly listen to yourself. Recognize your limits and never feel guilty about putting yourself first. There are counselors available to help you, to teach you how to cope, and to listen.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

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