Have you ever heard the classic phrase “Everything happens for a reason”, and became frustrated? It’s the perfect cliché to hear when someone has experienced something sad or unspeakable and the people around them believe this phrase will quell them. In most cases, this phrase isn’t very helpful. It is not the thing you want to hear when you’re struggling. When you dust yourself off though, at least when I did, the phrase held sustenance. After fighting off an intense mental illness, I found strength in knowing I didn’t go through this horrible event for nothing. I had to go through this phase in my life so I could encourage others with my experience, and help others who may experience the same thing. I hope you don’t take my testimony lightly.
Weakness. All I felt was weakness. Every day was a battle, and every step was painful. There were days when I couldn’t look into the mirror because I knew if I did I would pick apart every little detail. No scales. Heck no scales. Just the thought of numbers sent me into a worry. I couldn’t and wouldn’t succumb to that anxiety. I couldn’t step on. Who knew that the person who was once living inside of my mind was now overtaken by an eating disorder?
It was around junior high when I first let my insecurities best me. Like any other adolescent, I was exposed to some hurtful opinions and slightly obsessive body image problems. I dressed like a child and wore bows in my hair, proving innocent to the provocative normative many peers try out during junior high. As I proved to not fit this standard I stayed in my child-like box, shutting out premature sexualization of my body as best as I could. This gave me some distance from my ever-changing class. I gained a lot of weight in my transition from middle school to junior high and it proved lethal to my confidence. Unfortunately this led to upsetting ideas, like bulimia. Throwing up for the first time was terrible, and very sneaky. After the first time, the feeling of food in my stomach was irritating and I started to purge frequently (as well as binging since the two go hand-in-hand). It was a lot for my body to handle, but still I continued on with sports, church, and clubs as if nothing was going on. I became familiarized to the detrimental disease and knew how to hide it.
As a swimmer this wasn’t the best for my competitive abilities. Every time I got a slower time it was more reason to doubt the body I was living in, and would sustain some pretty harsh practices. A swim suit on an insecure girl is a psychological pain no one should know. All I could see is mistake after mistake. As time continued on I met a friend whom I could confide in. Someone I could confess my hideous practices to. She would listen intently to my hurtful opinions of myself and offer friendly advice and uplifting words. Once we entered high school she showed me how to dress my age, and act a little older than how I had been. In ways you could say she appropriately matured me into my age. On band trips I would freak out and tell her how much I hated myself and how ugly and disconnected I was. I felt so big all the time, yet so very small in terms of the person I was becoming. It wasn’t the progress you want a kid to go through. Like all eating disorders I developed their other side effects, like anxiety, irritation, infrequent depression, anger, you name it I most likely experienced it at some point in my high school career.
The thing with bulimia nervosa is, to no avail, you don’t lose weight. In fact, in many cases you gain weight from the binge sessions and water retention from purging. There were other physical ailments to the life style. Luckily I still have a rack of healthy teeth and to my knowledge didn’t damage my throat too much. What I did damage was my friendship with the person I confided to with all my problems and body image overall. It strained the relationship out of proportion and into a dynamic that was at the very least extremely unhealthy. I was a burden to the friends around me, and they were powerless to my incessant plead for them to not mention anything to my unsuspecting parents. I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to feel weightless. I wanted to feel pretty. I still to this day cannot believe how awful I made myself feel when my life otherwise was so privileged.
There were so many days when I just wanted to give up on the girl that was still hiding behind the disorder. Too many times I’d find myself bent over a toilet, a crying mess, praying that God would forgive me. Praying my parents and friends would forgive me. Not once did I ever pray to get better. The thing about God is you don’t necessarily have to ask to get better. He knew I was a mess, and he knew I was imperfect. He gave me the strength to pull through, and the people to propel me upward.
The day I decided to give up bulimia was the day I realized imperfection was beautiful. It was also a new year’s resolution I’ve kept for nearly 2 years now. I’m not going to sugar-coat the fact that it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I can say it has changed my life for the better. I confessed to my parents about the whole ordeal once I knew it was over with. They received it with nothing but love, and offered to get me professional help. As much as I’d like to say I took their offer, I’m a genuinely stubborn person and chose to fight the battle myself. I finished out my senior year much healthier, and I think other people recognized it too. I had the honor of being prom queen on my 18th birthday and while that might seem vain to many, it felt like I had finally won my battle against insecurity, and was a perfect surprise to my new life-style.
If you’re struggling with an eating disorder, or know a friend, I strongly suggest you push yourself/them to get help. It is not disloyal to them if you want them to get better. I love my friends and the support they gave me but it probably would’ve been easier if they would’ve told someone.
In conclusion to one of the worst things I’ve experienced, I can tell you that you’re strong enough to make it. You’re imperfections make you an extraordinary human. There are terrible things that happen to people all the time, don’t make yourself feel like you’re the blame. You are not the blame. Mental illness is just as strong as or even stronger than a physical sickness. You are worth the fight, and you are worth being loved. I’m rooting for your success, and hope you find comfort knowing you’re not alone.
“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” –Psalm 139:14
