To those who have never experienced an eating disorder, or claim they never will, I was in your shoes once too. In fact, I used to ridicule those who had them, and even make fun of them. I guess I got my karma.
I have never told this story to anyone outside of my extremely close-knit group of friends. However, keeping it a secret won’t help me, or anyone else for that matter.
In my eyes, I was happy with my body. However, it took the eyes of another person to disrupt my content. A boy. Now, while reading this, keep in mind that I was actually very tiny, exactly 5’3” and 125 pounds. This boy managed to point out every flaw he could find, even if it didn’t exist. Towards the end of our relationship, he didn’t try to hide his frustration. Being told I was “worthless” became a daily occurrence. I was force-fed his absurd thoughts until I believed them. Now, I know what you’re thinking, I shouldn’t have put up with it. You’re right, I shouldn’t have; however it’s easier said than done. At the end of the relationship, I had no self-esteem, and no self-worth. His words constantly echoed through my mind. Looking in the mirror was no longer enjoyable. All I could see were flaws. I learned to judge myself harshly, and look for validation through the thoughts and opinions of others. But their comments only gave me a temporary high.
Soon after, I grew very sick. I was told that I had a disease, meaning that some systems and organs weren't functioning properly inside of my body. One morning, I got out of my bed, looked in the mirror, and didn’t recognize myself. After a couple hundred double takes, I burst into tears. Not only did this disease make me violently ill, it also caused me to gain almost twenty pounds of fluid, inflammation, and stored fat (due to malnutrition) within the span of two weeks. My life, as far as I knew it, was over.
In my mind, if I thought I was fat at 120 pounds, I must be morbidly obese at 140. Right away I began to cut down my caloric intake. Even though it was difficult for me to keep food down to start, I made sure that I didn't consume over 400 calories a day. Alongside my new diet, I increased my exercise. I went from running a one mile warm up before an hour lifting session, to running a three mile warm up followed by a two-hour lifting session. My body grew severely malnourished and overworked. One day, mid-run, I felt a severe pain shoot from my hip all the way down my right leg. It was enough to get my attention, but not enough to make me stop. Three weeks went by until I finally went to my physical therapist, who sent me to get an MRI. The MRI showed that I had broken my hip, at 18 years old. The surgeon who looked at my results immediately sent me to a number of physicians in Boston. This is where everything began to get pieced together, and I started to fall apart.
After poking and prodding me with countless needles, and asking me endless questions, the doctors told me that I had an eating disorder on top of everything else. Me? An anorexic? No way! I’m still fat, how could that be? I thought. However, it was true, and it was my new reality. It turns out that starving myself was the exact opposite of what I should have been doing to lose the weight I had gained from my illness. After that, I was crippled by depression and fear. For days at a time, I wouldn’t leave my room. Sometimes it was nearly impossible to get out of bed. I was crippled by the fear of what others thought of me, and my new body. I wondered if they had noticed that I wasn’t eating, and, if they did, what they thought about my newfound habit. Every time I walked by a reflective surface, I felt compelled to look, just so I could disgust myself with the image, and further motivate myself to eat less. I was constantly tormented by my thoughts, and the words of my ex-boyfriend. If I wasn’t fat then, I was now. My thoughts couldn’t be silenced. The glances from the people around me made me cringe, and sink further into myself. Everything I used to enjoy, I grew to hate.
Then came the day I asked for help.
Asking for help? No, I could never. That would make me weak. Or so I thought. Until then, I had no idea the immense strength one needed to ask another for help. The day I asked for help was the day I began my road to recovery. As of today, I’m almost fully recovered. Unfortunately, it’s not an overnight process.
This is no longer my deep dark secret, and I am no longer afraid to share with others the bare minimum of what I went through. To those who have an eating disorder, or to those who are contemplating developing one, please GET HELP. Do not put it off any longer; it will save you a multitude of frustration, and pain. I know what you are feeling, and I would not wish it upon my worst enemy. It doesn’t matter how you do it, even if it’s baby steps. Start out with a friend, or a parent. Make sure it’s somebody you can trust. Don’t hold in your pain anymore. You’ll soon learn, as quickly as I did, that those who love you won’t judge you for what you have put your body through. Your physical, and mental, health is all that matters to them. The sooner you get help, the sooner you will be on the road to recovery. There are people out there who love you, no matter what your body looks like. Listen to them, and let them help you.
It was the best decision I ever made.
