I was only eleven when I started to worry about my weight. For the next ten years of my life, it would be something that I struggled with constantly and a battle that I fought every moment. I did not choose to get an eating disorder. I did not wake up one morning and think that it would be a good idea to stop eating. I was not oblivious to the effects that came with a restrictive diet. I did not find joy in counting every calorie I ate. I did not take joy in trying to "burn" every calorie I ate in order to be able to look at myself in the morning. I did not think it would be fun to wake up every morning and hate the way I look.
I could try and make excuses for how I got myself into this situation. I could try and justify it. But, the truth is, every single person that has dealt with this battle will have their own personal reasons as to what started them off on this path. Society tries to simplify into something generic like "They just want to have control over something in their life" or "They have low self esteem" or "They have been teased about weight." For me, it was no single cause. There was no single reason in life that caused me to go from being a happy child into a person that would obsess about every bite eaten and torture myself for every calorie. I was unhappy at home, I was teased, I did not have much control over my life, but none of these reasons were the reason that it all started. To me, it seems ridiculous and pointless to try and find the cause. I feel like the focus should be on reaching out and giving support.
At my lowest point, I weighed 90 lbs. Considering I was 5' 10" at this point, I know that it is extremely unhealthy. My parents seemed to ignore the fact that I stopped eating and was starting to disappear. My friends would try and talk to me about it, but I would be deaf to their concerns. A lot of people would say things along the lines of "You just need to eat and get over it" or "You're being selfish, don't you know there are people that don't have access to food??" I would assume they were genuinely concerned, but these things only pushed me more into my cycle of self-hate and starvation. I have always been very critical of myself and see flaws even where others do not. After I got to the point where eating even 200 calories a day was a struggle and I would feel like a failure, the criticism of others would only push me further into myself. I was obsessed with calories and food and exercise. If I knew I was going out with friends for dinner, I would plan my week around it so that I wouldn't "over eat." To me, it seemed like my eating habits (or lack thereof) were only affecting myself. I didn't see how it hurt the people around me. My relationships suffered, my grades suffered, my job suffered.
Once people began to realize that nothing they could say or do would get me out of the mindset I was in, most people stopped trying to help. A lot of people stopped trying to help and they just turned a blind eye to what was happening. For the past three years, I was eating on a regular basis, but I was also trying to "burn" the majority of things that I would eat. I would count calories and the number at the end of the day would determine my mood for the next day. If the number was too high, I would mentally berate myself for days and nothing could be said to change my mind about how I saw myself. I saw fat where others didn't. My self worth was determined by the number on the scale. Any comment about my weight, even if it was in a joking manner, would make me crazy. It got to the point that, after so many years, I saw the rest of the world as wrong. I had convinced myself that it was everybody else that had a problem overeating, I was just trying to be "healthy" and stay "fit." The fact that I was supposed to be eating at least 1500 calories more a day was a fact that just reinforced in my mind that it was everyone else that was eating too much.
There is no way to "cure" someone of an eating disorder. Just like any other mental illness, it is something that will be fought every day. It can be managed but it will never really go away. About three months ago, I came to the point in my life where I realized what I had been doing to myself for all of these years. For a decade, I had been starving myself and closing myself off from everyone that cared about me. I didn't want to be alone any more. I made the decision to try and be healthy, not skinny. I wanted to be the person that would be able to go out with friends and not have to do the math to figure out what I would have to do the next day to justify what I was eating and drinking to look normal. I wanted to be like everyone else. I didn't want to hate everything I saw in myself. I wanted to be happy. And, most of all, I didn't want a number to determine my happiness.
I wish I could say that I wake up every morning and feel wonderful about the way I look and I am completely comfortable in my own skin. I wish I could say that I no longer worry about what I eat or what I do to "balance" it all out. But, now I try not to let the number of calories eaten, the number of calories burned, the number on the scale all determine my happiness. I try to focus on being healthy and happy, not on hungry and skinny. I know I will probably struggle with this every day, every meal, but I am willing to try and fight what has become my natural tendency. I promised myself I would never again purge after going out with friends because I didn't "deserve" that night.
Unless someone has personally dealt with an eating disorder, they will never really know what the comments about a person's weight can do to another. They will never really understand the isolation that comes with this illness. They will never really know how to help. If any of my readers ever need someone to talk to or someone to just listen, I will be here for each and every one of you. Nothing can be said to make a person change the way they think, the most I can do is promise to be here for you all.
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