As social media becomes more and more popular and widespread, the ability to share a picture of a model in a bikini with a toned body can be spread to millions by the second. What can also spread to millions by the second is this image of what's accepted by society; this image of this is what you should be like.

Once upon a time, I cheered. I was always an active child and never once since the age of five was I not involved in some sort of physical activity like soccer, tee ball, ballet, gymnastics, or cheerleading. Once high school started, I was involved with both sideline and competition cheerleading and thought I was in great shape. Aside from the weight I gained from a knee injury and not being able to do all physical activities, I was still confident in my appearance.

Fast forward four years of high school and there I was going to college. I didn't realize it until I got my physical done for college, but I entered my freshman dorm weighing between 145 and 150 depending on the day. I didn't feel like I looked any different than anyone else. I thought I looked good and was positive about my body image.

Now, I never imagined I'd have an eating disorder. I love food and love eating food. My eating disorder actually didn't start out as an eating disorder at all.

As a college freshman, I didn't have a job and was left to survive off what little money I managed to save. With that, I ate out less and less and eventually cut out all fast food simply because I didn't have the money for it. I also cut out sodas and any drink that wasn't free because, well, college. I turned to relying on my student meal plan for all food and the only snacks in my dorm room came from care packages from my grandma.

I had lost a little weight, but nothing extreme and not enough to really notice a change. I was still going to dinner with all the girls on the hall and I was still eating, I had just cut out the junk that everyone warns you about.

Come winter time, it got to the point where it was just too cold to walk to the dining halls. I hate the cold, and I moved to the beach for a reason. I started staying in my dorm room instead of walking to dinner with everyone else, and nobody really seemed too concerned. However, it got to the point where I maybe ate one meal a day, usually at lunch when I'm already out and about on campus. I went home for the holidays a little slimmer to where my parents and high school friends noticed, but they said it looked good and that college was treating me well.

It began.

I was getting positive feedback about being smaller. My stomach had gotten used to not eating and the smallest amounts of food were enough to satisfy me. It's not that I continued to not eat because I was trying to lose weight. I had stopped eating because my body stopped telling me it wanted food. My body couldn't hold any more food.

My habits of not eating continued into my second semester and before I knew it I was getting more and more compliments on my body and how great it looks. I started loving the positivity everyone was giving me. Before I knew it, what once began as an effort to save money and being too lazy and whimsy to walk in the cold became an eating disorder.

I'd lie to my friends going to dinner claiming that I ate on my way back from class. I never told anyone how I was losing weight, and they just assumed I was working out. I became obsessed with being skinny, especially when I go to school at the beach.

Instead of gaining the freshman 15, I lost about 40 pounds. I moved into my freshman dorm weighing 145-150 and I moved out weighing 105. When I was told I was at an unhealthy weight before sophomore year, I attempted to fix the problem. I was told that for someone my height, 115 and 130 was a healthy range to be in, so I ate a few more snacks a day and eventually made it to 115 and became content.

I became obsessed with my body image and how others saw me. The compliments I was getting was just fueling my disorder. I was getting attention I never had before. People suddenly started leaving heart eyes emojis on pictures of me and starting saying how much better I look now. I became obsessed with being accepted based on my body.

Eventually, I became a gym rat. I worked out a lot, but I was eating. Anytime I ate something bad, I felt I could balance it out with a workout. Eventually, I learned that by working out, I could maintain my weight, eat what I wanted (for the most part), and still be happy.

Fast forward four years later and I still struggle with my eating disorder. Sometimes I beat myself up if I don't make it to the gym or if I eat an unhealthy meal without working out. I still skip meals on a regular and not always on purpose. To this day, my body still rarely tells me it's hungry; I eat because I know I need to.

While I'm up to 125 now, I still obsess over the number on the scale. It kills me to see it go up. I can tell myself it's muscle, because I know most of that weight is, and still cringe when I see the number.

I have an eating disorder, but I'm healthy.

I'm the healthiest I've ever been in my life. Even as a competition cheerleader I wasn't in this good of shape physically. I have an eating disorder and I've accepted that and I'm happy.

While I never intended to lose as much weight as I did, I don't regret it because it brought me to where I am today. Was it the healthiest way to lose weight? Not at all. Do I wish I would've tried a different way? No, because I was so confident at that point that I probably wouldn't have.

When I tell people that I have an eating disorder, they give me all types of looks. Some laugh and say yeah right, and some ask me to prove it. I was actually told the other day that what I described wasn't an eating disorder at all.

Nobody believes me because there's this stereotypical "throw up every time you eat' and 'starve yourself until you're a skeleton" idea behind eating disorders. Not all eating disorders are the same. I have yet to meet one person who describes their eating disorder the way I describe mine. In fact, I've never heard two eating disorder stories sound similar at all.

Before you stereotype me for saying I have an eating disorder, try to understand it. Try to listen to how I got that disorder, or why I'm okay with having it. My eating disorder doesn't mean there's something wrong with me psychologically. My eating disorder doesn't define me just as much as you don't define my eating disorder.