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I wanted to go to school when Carly did. She would moan endlessly about it over the years, and sometimes . . . sometimes I hated her for it. I learned to read because mum was happy to teach me after work. Dad would lend a hand now and then too, but I didn’t enjoy those nights very much.
I was unhappy, and Carly could sense it, even though I never said anything. One day she left a copy of The Outsiders on my dresser. Her post-it read: Have to read this for school. Thought it would be boring but was actually kind of cool. Thought you’d like to see.
I read it in hours. I loved it. I wanted more.
I broke the rule about not invading each other’s space, and I rifled through he school bag. Found a stream of English homework that she hadn’t done, next to notebooks upon notebooks of science homework that she’d done, and then some.
I think that was the first night of the new routine. It helped her, and it helped me. She would bring me the books she was reading for English; I would have a night filled with more than just boring infomercials and home movies, and she would have her essays ready to go the next day.
English literature saved me from myself. I will always remember that. Every book was a new secret, a new adventure, a new tale.
They are the study of life.
In the NOVEL SECRETS Blog Tour, readers will discover some fascinating behind-the-scenes information connected to brand-new YA novels! I’m thrilled that author Lisa Schroeder is sharing some information that none of us would EVER have known just from reading her latest book, ALL WE HAVE IS NOW. I’m always fascinated by how authors infuse parts of themselves in their books. Lisa is no exception. Read her “I Wish Everyone Could Visit the Enchanted Forest,” to find out why she included this special place in her book.
NOVEL SECRETS BLOG TOUR – check out the following posts:
Reading Teen’s post on LEGACY OF KINGS by Eleanor Herman – I Wear Ancient Dead People’s Jewelry
– Giveaway ends August 22nd.
In my new novel, ALL WE HAVE IS NOW, Vince and Emerson go around helping people do fun things as they make wishes come true before a meteor is due to destroy North America in a little over twenty-four hours. One of the places they end up going is a place called the Enchanted Forest in Salem, Oregon. What some people may not realize is that this is a very real, and very special, place, dreamt up and built by a man named Roger Tofte. In 1964, he purchased twenty acres of land and for the next seven years, he spent all of his spare time building a small amusement park smack-dab in the middle of a forest (thus the name).
Lisa Schroeder at THE MAD HATTER’S TEA PARTY display!
The fact that it feels a teensy-bit “homemade” adds to the charm of the place. I’m lucky in that I’ve been visiting the Enchanted Forest since I was a little girl. Much of it is based on children’s stories and fairy tales, so you can see why I love it so much. Over the years, they’ve added various rides in an effort to continue to attract visitors, but the trail that takes you down Storybook Lane at the beginning of the park has hardly changed in forty years. Here, visitors get to say hello to Humpty Dumpty, wave at Little Red Riding Hood, and take a trip down Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit hole, among other things. It’s so fun to write about cool places most of the world doesn’t know about – definitely feels like letting people in on a well-kept secret.
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Release Date: May 12, 2015
ABOUT THE BOOK
Love can be lost but never forgotten. Beautiful, sophisticated, and engaged to the son of a Senator, Evie Masterson has the perfect life. Except for one thing: it’s all based on a lie. Five years ago, she created a new identity for herself and cut all ties to her criminal past. But she can’t run forever, because something she witnessed years ago comes back to haunt her. And the only person there to help is the man she thought she left behind forever—the one man she’s never been able to forget.
Devastatingly gorgeous and just as ruthless, Riley Everett is the criminal for hire who once stole Evie’s heart. Years have gone by, but he’s never been able to forget her either. Now her life is in jeopardy, and even after all this time, he’d still do anything to protect her, even if that means breaking into her mansion and stealing her away.
As they hide from the world, their long-lost passion reignites. But despite their undeniable chemistry, Evie can’t give up the perfect life she’s been working toward…and Riley has no part in it.
ABOUT BRIGHTON WALSH
Brighton Walsh is a storyteller at heart. Love is her first love, and writing about it is a dream come true. When she’s not overwhelmed by the incessant chatter in her mind, you can generally find her with her nose buried in a steamy book or partaking in some retail therapy in the Midwest where she lives with her own real life hero and her two energetic kids who (fortunately) know nothing about the naughty things she puts down on paper.
Connect with Brighton here:
I had to research this way more than I had to research anything else I’ve written. I watched self defense videos, looked up sedatives, spoke to nurses about bullet wound treatment, talked to dozens of different people who held a specific set of knowledge or experience that was relevant to the book. Lots and lots and lots.
Their real names? No. I just liked them. Their crew names, yes. Ghost was chosen for the reason he told Madison in Captive—they call him that because people don’t know he’s there until it’s too late. For Riley, I chose Kid because it was something Riley had to face his whole life—growing up in his brother’s shadow.
Communication, trust, friendship, and passion.
Even though I was told a dozen times to prepare for how slow publishing moves, it’s still jarring to be in the middle of it and just…waiting.
I have so many pet peeves, it’s not even funny. People who don’t use their blinkers or who drive slow in the left lane or who don’t use the turn lane to actually turn. People who misuse the word literally. Close talkers. And probably a dozen more I’m forgetting. I have not written them into a book yet, but I probably should.
EVERY LAST BREATH Synopsis:
Some loves will last ‘til your dying breath
Every choice has consequences—but seventeen-year-old Layla faces tougher choices than most. Light or darkness. Wickedly sexy demon prince Roth, or Zayne, the gorgeous, protective Warden she never thought could be hers. Hardest of all, Layla has to decide which side of herself to trust.
Layla has a new problem, too. A Lilin—the deadliest of demons—has been unleashed, wreaking havoc on those around her…including her best friend. To keep Sam from a fate much, much worse than death, Layla must strike a deal with the enemy while saving her city—and her race—from destruction.
Torn between two worlds and two different boys, Layla has no certainties, least of all survival, especially when an old bargain comes back to haunt them all. But sometimes, when secrets are everywhere and the truth seems unknowable, you have to listen to your heart, pick a side—and then fight like hell…
Roth cleared his throat. “Shortie, look…look at your hand.”
Look at my hand? Why in the world would he be asking me to do that in the midst of all the cray?
“Do it,” he said quietly and too gently.
The dread exploded in my gut like buckshot, and my gaze dropped to my left hand. I expected to see the weird marbling of black and gray, a mixture of the demon and Warden that existed inside of me and a combination I’d become almost familiar with by now. My nails had lengthened and sharpened, and I could tell they were hard enough to cut through steel, as hard as my skin, but my skin…it was still pink. Really pink.
“What the…?” My gaze traveled to my other hand. It was the same. Just pink. My wings twitched, reminding me that I had shifted.
Zayne swallowed. “Your…your wings…”
“What about my wings?” I almost screeched, reaching be‑ hind me. “Are they broken? Did they not come out—” The tips of my fingers came into contact with something as soft as silk. My hand jerked back. “What…”
Stacey’s watery eyes had doubled in size. “Um, Layla, there’s a mirror above the fireplace. I think you need to look in it.”
I met Roth’s gaze for a second before I spun around and all but ran to the fireplace I was sure Stacey’s mom had never used. Clutching the white mantel, I stared at my reflection.
I looked normal, like I did before I shifted…like I was going to class or something. My eyes were the palest shade of gray, a watered-down blue. My hair was so blond it was almost white, and a mess of waves that went in every direction like usual. I looked like a colorless china doll, which was nothing new, except for the two fangs jutting out of my mouth. I wouldn’t show them off at school, but that wasn’t what caught my attention and held it.
It was my wings.
They were large, not as massive as Zayne’s or Roth’s, and normally they were almost leathery in texture, but now they were black…black and feathered. Like legit feathered. That soft, silky thing I’d felt? It had been tiny feathers.
“Oh my God,” I whispered at my reflection. “I have feathers.”
“Those are definitely feathered wings,” Roth commented.
I whipped around, knocking over a lamp with my feathered right wing. “I have feathers on my wings!”
Roth cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, you do.”
He was absolutely no help, so I turned to Zayne. “Why do I have feathers on my wings?”
Zayne shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, Layla. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Liar,” hissed Roth, shooting him a dark look. “You’ve seen that before. So have I.”
“Armentrout is a major talent…I just can’t stop reading!”
—New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter
“Armentrout works her magic with swoon-worthy guys and a twist you never see coming.”
–#1 New York Times bestselling author Abbi Glines on White Hot Kiss
About Jennifer L. Armentrout:
# 1 New York Times and # 1 International Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki.
Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV. Her young adult romantic suspense novel DON’T LOOK BACK was a 2014 nominated Best in Young Adult Fiction by YALSA.
She also writes Adult and New Adult contemporary and paranormal romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.
This is my Hello? bookmark handcrafted by Liza @ReadingwithABC! It’s my FAVORITE! Liza was so incredible generous to make additional bookmarks for giveaways!
The selection of gorgeous bookmarks!
Tricia: A girl struggling to find her way after her beloved grandma’s death.
Emerson: A guy who lives his life to fulfill promises, real and hypothetical.
Angie: A girl with secrets she can only express through poetry.
Brenda: An actress and screenplay writer afraid to confront her past.
Brian: A potter who sets aside his life for Tricia, to the detriment of both.
Linked and transformed by one phone call, Hello? weaves together these five Wisconsin teens’ stories into a compelling narrative of friendship and family, loss and love, heartbreak and healing, serendipity, and ultimately hope.
Told from all five viewpoints: narration (Tricia), narration (Emerson), free verse poetry (Angie), screenplay format (Brenda), narration and drawings (Brian).
(The Glee Version! I just had to share since it was one of my favorite moments on the show!)
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Brooklyn is a talented artist with an obsession for blood; one that she satiates at her uncle’s tattoo shop. It’s here at The Bleeding Heart that Brooklyn practices the art of dispensing pain onto others. Yet, nothing can dull the desire running through her veins, especially since the man she really wants to torture rots in jail for murder. When Daniel comes into her life, Brooklyn’s obsession with tattoos and blood quickly turns into desire for him. She dreams about getting him on her tattoo table as her first official customer, marking him as her own. But Daniel has a different idea as to what they should be doing with their bodies. As Brooklyn spirals out of control, her sanity begins to slip right along with whatever is left of her humanity. Daniel may be the only one left to save her, if she lets him in. In the end she will have to choose between exacting vengeance, staying alive, or loving Daniel.
Amy Giuffrida teaches language arts to teens by day, while working nights as supermom and a bookseller. The teen in her is never far away, calling to her to crank the tunes and write stories about the darkness that surrounds us all. Amy is known for taking the path less traveled, but can be always be found on Twitter @kissedbyink or online at one of her haunts: https://www.facebook.com/kissedbyink, amygiuffrida.com, kissedbyink.com, or midnightsocietytales.com.
All that matters is the moment when a connection is made. The touch of a hand. Leading right to the hear. Waking all those desires lurking in the dark corners, the thrill of moving as one. Hearts beating, hurting, screaming, no longer restrained. No longer fearing the strangers who judge, taking all choice away. Allowing the devil to rise above it all. Unleashing all the power and control. Letting go.
Daniel. Shaking my head doesn’t help to get him out of my mind. In the mirror, I try to still the image I see and swipe my make-up sponge one last time under my eye, finishing the look of eau de natural.
Picking up the curling iron, I twirl a piece of hair around the barrel and let it drop into a perfect curl. Through the hiss of the hairspray I’m using to keep my curls in shape, I hear the door close.
“I’m in here,” I call from the bathroom.
Stopping short in the doorway a surprised looking Jonathan says, “Hey Brooklyn. What are you doing to your hair?”
“Oh this? Trying something new. Does it look stupid?” I ask as I put the curling iron down in the sink bowl.
“Nope, just never seen you try this hard. You have a date or something?”
I don’t have to turn around to know he’s smiling. I hear it in his voice. Plus, I know he’s heard from Greg about Daniel and I wonder if I really am going to need to have this conversation with Jonathan of all people. “Meeting the usual people at The Wharf. Seeing a band. Hanging out.”
“Okay, if you say so. Have a good time and be home by midnight, so you don’t turn into a pumpkin.”
Only one girl will win the cash prize…and a chance at love with Jeremy Bane.
Monet isn’t just another lust-struck teenager trying to win the heart of Rock God Jeremy Bane–she needs the prize money from his new reality show to cure her illness.
Monet has Fluxem, a contagious disease that’s spread through saliva. It’s completely curable if you have enough money, which she and her single mother don’t. Now that she’s on the show, Monet has to work harder to keep her Fluxem hidden. She only has to keep the secret long enough to woo Jeremy Bane so he picks her as the winner. She doesn’t even care about the love part; the prize alone will change her life.
But the real Jeremy Bane is nothing like she imagined. Monet finds herself fighting against feelings that make her want to give in to her attraction and Jeremy’s attempts for a kiss. The further she goes in the competition, the more impossible it becomes to resist him–and when the producers turn the tables and start digging up dirt on the contestants, Monet fears her secret will be revealed before she’s ready and ruin everything.
The only way to win Jeremy’s heart is to tell him the truth, but confessing her disease could cost her the competition, the prize money, and him.
He looks around at the people on the beach. “What do you see out there?”
“People covering themselves with sunblock, talking on their phones, and enjoying the beautiful scenery all around them.”
“Okay, good. Now close your eyes and tell me what you hear.”
“Yelling kids, splashing water. The camera crew shuffling around the table.”
He laughs. “I like your perspective. So, if I were writing a song from your viewpoint, I’d pick those three pieces of noise and mimic them. Take a few yelling kids, draw out the notes, and repeat the sound until it’s more instrumental rather than noisy.”
I take a gulp of my drink. I’m stunned. He really is an artist. “That’s amazing to think about. How would your perspective be different?”
He grins at me. “I’d probably focus on you and the sound your coconut makes on the table, like a drumbeat. Then I’d pick a few key lines for you to say.”
“And what would you have me say?” I ask, leaning closer.
“Uh-oh, now I’m on the spot.” He takes a big drink.
I drape my hair over one shoulder, giving him a second to think. “You don’t have to answer.”
“Eh, my lyrics sometimes cut to the emotional center of an idea. But…okay. How about this: ‘Coconut liquor heating my tongue. What does heat taste like? What do you?’” He pauses and flushes. “Uh, then I’d play the noise your lips make when you lick them.”
My face is burning. “I’m speechless.”
“Damn, our first date and I’ve already scared you.” He glances down quickly and swirls the liquor and juice around in his coconut.
“No, nothing like that.” I drag my finger through the condensation under my drink. “I think your song would be much more romantic than mine. Yelling kids aren’t that melodic.”
Sarah Gagnon grew up in the frigid woods of Maine amidst snow and animal skins and has now moved back home. As a small child she wrote ship-wrecked romances all while being stared down by a taxidermied duck.
She has a BFA in photography and a minor in writing from the University of Southern Maine. She’s the mother of two tiny, feral children and two ill-behaved dogs. For fun she’s taken up construction and interior design. Her first project: moving into a dilapidated farmhouse with her computer-genius husband.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”
He cocked his head to the side and raised both brows. “You practically hid in your room or attached yourself to Syd all day.”
“I was…I was spending girl-time with her,” I said. “And napping.”
He’d been right. I had avoided him. Apparently, I wasn’t doing that great of a job of it.
“The same with last night. You barely talked to me.”
“What?” Dumbfounded, I felt like screaming that word. “I barely talked to you? You ignored me.”
He stared at me. “Andy, I—“
“This is stupid. This whole thing is stupid.” I lifted the bottle.
A moment passed and he asked, “Do you really think you need another beer?”
Annoyed, I slowly brought the bottle to my mouth and took a long drink. “Does that answer your question?”
The hue of his blue eyes deepened. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick—“
“You might want to try harder. Just sayin’ Might just be my opinion, but thought I’d share.”
He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Several seconds passed. “You know, I didn’t’ say that shit to you to piss you off.”
I wanted to point out everything he’d done to piss me off, but…but shit on a brick. Anything that I told him would betray how I felt about him, and well, I was
already embarrassing myself enough without going there. “You breathed,” I decided, nodding, and totally proud of myself. “How about that?”
Shaking his head, he rested his elbows on the island. “You can usually do better than that.”
“It’s not worth my time to do better.” I flounced past him. Well, I might have staggered past him, but in my head, I flounced like a Grade A Uppity Chick, and it
“I wish you wouldn’t drink so much.”
My feet stopped. Dammit. My feet had a mind of their own, and they had stopped because he’d said that so quietly, not with an ounce of derision or scorn.
Actually, it sounded like a plea. The alcohol churned in my stomach. All I could see was his look of pity.
“Why do you drink like this?” he asked.
To relax. To not act like a freak. To forget. To remember. To be funny. To have people like me. To not care if they do or don’t. To have fun. To just not care. A
burning sensation rolled down my back as my head continued to shout out the answers. I just didn’t want to care.
I didn’t say any of that. “You drink.”
“I do. And sometimes I drink and I get drunk, but not every time.”
Slowly, I faced him. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on the island. “I don’t get drunk every time.”
He shook his head again. “Andrea, you either get plastered or damn near close. Every time.”
“That’s not…” I trailed off, and yeah, even I could see where he was right. I could probably count on one hand how many times I’d only had two beers or two
shots and then stopped. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if I ever had.
“My dad got shitfaced all the time,” he continued. “Never thought that I’d be interested in a girl who was the same way.”
My brain registered two things at once. He was interested in me, which wasn’t a big duh. I mean, he’d had his hands in my pants more than once, so yeah, I
should’ve known that. But he compared me to his dad, a man I’d recently discovered he pretty much loathed, which pretty much canceled out the first part. Hurt
invaded every cell and festered under the skin. The back of my throat burned and I wanted to rush away.
But I didn’t. “That kind of makes you twisted.”
Another weak laugh came out of him. “I guess it kind of does.
# 1 NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing. she spends her time reading, working out, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki.
Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV.
She also writes adult and New Adult romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.
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Junior high is where things really start to happen. Cliques form and break apart. Couples are made and destroyed. And a reputation is solidified that you won’t ever be able to escape. Everything you do and say, and everyone you spend your time with, matters.
Katie Mills knows that. She gets it. That’s why she tried so hard to get in with the cool girls at school. And why she was so devastated when those efforts found her detained for shoplifting and laughed out of cheer squad tryouts.
But Katie has more to worry about than just fitting in. Her parents are divorced and always fighting. Her sister never has time for her. And her friends all seem to be drifting apart. Even worse? The boy she has a crush on is dating the mean girl at school.
Everything is a mess, and Katie doesn’t feel like she has control over any of it. Certainly not over her weight, which has always topped out at slightly pudgier than normal—at least, according to her mother.
So when she happens to catch one of the popular girls throwing up in the bathroom one day, it sparks an idea. A match that quickly engulfs her life in flames.
Is there any going back once she gets started down this path?
And would she even want to if she could?
Someone very close to me struggled with bulimia from the age of 12 into her mid twenties, so I know exactly what the disease does to a person—both mentally and physically. I drew from my friend’s experiences as well as from some memories of how I felt in junior high to create Katie’s story.
Bulimia (as well as other eating disorders) is a complex disease with many different causes and no clear course of treatment. Every bulimic needs different things to heal and heals at her own pace.
Eating disorders are often not taken seriously as life-threatening mental illnesses, and those who suffer often feel too ashamed to seek help. To make matters worse, friends and loved ones of sufferers tend to have a hard time understanding that treatment is a lengthy process, so lingering symptoms often get swept under the rug. It breaks my heart.
Please keep in mind that everyone feels like they don’t fit in at some point. I know I’ve felt that way many times, especially during my teen years. Still do once in a while. When I was younger, I usually coped by confiding in a few close friends—friends I still maintain contact with (nearly 30 years later). And guess what? Nowadays, when I’m feeling like I don’t belong, I still turn to the same friends. Sure, there are times when they might not understand exactly what I’m going through, but it is amazing how calming it can be to confide in someone when I’m feeling self-conscious or anxious.
Another way to combat the feeling of not being able to relate to others is by discovering your passions. Be honest with yourself about what you like and what you don’t like, and don’t be afraid to do what you enjoy, even if friends aren’t interested. If you do what you love, you will eventually connect with others who love the same things.
Before I answer this question, I’d like to share a little bit about myself…Sadly, I know from experience what this feels like. I was held to extremely high standards as a child. As a result, I have struggled with low self-esteem, OCD-like tendencies and relationship issues. It has taken me a long time to realize that I am good enough just the way I am (flaws and all) and that it is IMPOSSIBLE to be perfect and unfair to expect others to strive for perfection.
Now for my answer…This is a tough question because there are different degrees of criticism that can affect a person’s self-esteem. Katie, the main character in Don’t Call Me Kit Kat is constantly subjected to comments about her appearance and her weight and is repeatedly compared to her “perfect” older sister. In my opinion, her mother’s relentless criticisms are a mild form of psychological abuse even though she is unaware of the damage she is doing to Katie’s self-esteem. However, some people might not consider criticism to be a form of abuse, especially since many teens go through much worse than what Katie goes through.
So, I think the coping mechanism depends on the severity of the issue. In a case like Katie’s, it’s important to speak up. If your parent repeatedly says things that make you feel self-conscious or critical of yourself, let that parent know. A lot of times, parents don’t even realize how harmful mild criticisms can be.
What if the verbal abuse is more extreme? Again, start by communicating to your parent how you feel. If this is not possible or if your parent won’t listen, talk to someone else. A friend. A sibling. A teacher. A guidance counselor. An aunt or an uncle. Do not hide it if you have a parent who constantly berates you or doles out harsh, unwarranted criticisms that attack you as a person.
I don’t pretend to be a perfect parent. Like I said, perfection is NOT possible. I have had to bite my tongue at times when my children have misbehaved or even when they’ve neglected to do something they way I taught them to do it. I’m only human. However, parents who have trouble biting their tongues or who think it’s perfectly fine to berate a child need help. Verbal abuse can be just as damaging as physical abuse, yet without marks to prove it, it often goes unnoticed, especially if the abused child doesn’t speak up.
First of all, according to the National Institutes of Health, the human body is made up of more than 100 trillion cells. Here’s what that looks like in numeric form: 100,000,000,000,000. Do you know how unique that makes you? With that many cells, it’s absurd for society to push an “ideal” body image on anyone. The extent to which each individual person is unique is absolutely mind-boggling. 100 TRILLION cells! Embrace your uniqueness and take care of yourself by making healthy choices because your body is a miracle. J
Secondly, have you ever heard this quote by Maya Angelou?
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
In my experience, people will also forget what your body looked like and what you were wearing. Honestly, the way you look right now won’t matter 20, 10, five or even two years from now. But the way you behave today—the way you treat people—will matter for the rest of your life. So love the miracle that is your body, but remember that it’s just a vessel. It truly is what’s on the inside that counts.
My advice is no different for boys.
Eating disorder patients often share a common thread; they feel the need to control something. As a result, they have taken control over the one thing that no one can stop them from controlling: the food they do or don’t put into their mouths. But the harsh reality is that the controlling habits of eating disorder patients become addictions, and addicts have no control over their addictions. So that’s why developing an eating disorder can be seen as both taking control and losing control.
Facts About Eating Disorders From the National Eating Disorders Association
Bulimia nervosa affects 1-2% of adolescent and young adult women.
Despite the prevalence of eating disorders, they continue to receive inadequate research funding.
Illness Prevalence NIH Research Funds (2011)
Alzheimer’s Disease 5.1 million $450,000,000
Autism 3.6 million $160,000,000
Schizophrenia 3.4 million $276,000,000
Eating disorders 30 million $28,000,000
Research dollars spent on Alzheimer’s Disease averaged $88 per affected individual in 2011. For Schizophrenia the amount was $81. For Autism $44. For eating disorders the average amount of research dollars per affected individual was just $0.93. (National Institutes of Health, 2011)
To learn more or to make a donation that will go toward prevention programs, rehabilitation and support for those who struggle with eating disorders, please visit http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/.
Share five fun facts about yourself.
K. J. Farnham is a former educator turned author and freelance writer. She was born and raised in a suburb of Milwaukee and now lives in western Wisconsin with her husband, three children and three cats.
In addition to reading and writing, Farnham loves road trips, beach outings, Body Pump, running, hiking and acoustic music. She hopes to convince her husband to drive across the United States in an RV someday.
During her tween, teen and young adult years, she devoured books by V.C. Andrews, Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Nowadays, Farnham will read just about anything but still leans toward fiction. Her preferred genres include contemporary romance, humor, thriller/suspense, horror and YA.