A therapist at a treatment center once told me, “well, in the eating disorder world, anorexia is the cool, desirable kid.”

I’ve thought a lot about the power of that statement, with which I agree, since. As well as its impact on seeking help and being open with the help one seeks due to eating disorders.

I can remember being twelve, newly started in middle school, and thinking to myself repeatedly, so often that it disturbs me to think of myself then, that I wished I was anorexic. That the more I “knew” about the disease, the more I wanted that “willpower”, the “ability” to “resist” food. I wanted the weight loss. I wasn’t really mentally well then and will admit that I also found some solace in other aspects of what I believed anorexia nervosa to be, but the “willpower” and weight loss were my biggest desires.

This desire stayed with me into high school, when I started using behaviors associated with the disease. When I was “successful” in avoiding food, I felt almost heroic pride; when I “failed” to avoid food, my self hatred increased exponentially. This continued into the development of a full-blown eating disorder that mangles my thoughts and actions to this day.

I have gone through countless therapy sessions, both private and group, relearned everything I thought I new about eating disorders, met well over a hundred people with different eating disorders…I know the concept. That Binge Eating Disorder is as serious as Bulimia which is as serious as Anorexia. They are all mental illnesses with physical effects.

But a split occurs between Anorexia and other eating disorders.

In our society, burned into our conscious minds and our subconscious core values, is the idea that thin is beautiful, that indulging in food is bad, that “resisting” food is good and takes a lot of self control. Perhaps part of our obsession with thinness is the belief that it takes so much strength to be thin. I know that that is a huge part of my obsession with my own disease.

Because even through years of suffering from anorexia, to this day I struggle with the idea that I still want to be anorexic, that I want in fact to be more anorexic. Sometimes we are told that this desire comes from our eating disorder—but I knew this desire well before my eating disorder developed. It comes from what has been branded into our minds by the world around us.

In the eating disorder world, we are starting to discuss eating disorders more openly. But most people who are willing to talk about their disorder, show before-and-after photos, discuss their journey…are those who suffer(ed) from anorexia.

Why?

Because, well, we still truly believe that anorexia is the cool disorder. Despite all we know, despite knowing that falling into restriction does not mean will power, despite knowing that binging is not weakness, we still carry that system of beliefs. In sharing my story of an eating disorder, there is still a part of me (which I am not proud of) that finds pride in my disease. I would say that almost everyone, if not everyone, who suffers from anorexia, feels the same.

And that takes a huge toll. I am sure as hell more willing to share in group therapy that I am struggling with restricting than if I am in a binge-purge cycle. I know, logically, that falling into a binge-purge period is my eating disorder, is not my weakness. But it makes me feel weak. It makes me hate myself more. It is so much harder to talk about; I am supposed to be what other people desire, thin, resistant to food’s desires.

And through talking to other people, I know they too feel this shame in binging, whether or not they purge. We have learned through our lives that indulging is bad. So we don’t want to talk about binging—it makes us feel ashamed.

Yet Binge Eating Disorder is believed to be the most common eating disorder in the world. And, although many claim anorexia is the deadliest mental illness, Binge Eating Disorder is being shown in many statistics to cause many more fatalities than its more desirable cousin.

What does all of this mean? It means that we need to expand our discussion of eating disorders. It means we need to create a (metaphorical) militia, not just a peaceful assembly, to face our society’s forcing (especially unrealistic) body standards of beauty. Because not talking about your eating disorder, not getting help, increases your risk of death. Lives are worth so much more than that. It means we need to look at the problems of discrimination within the eating disorder recovery community.

And our expansion shouldn’t stop there. We need to start including people across races, genders, ages, origins, religions. When our discussion of eating disorders includes almost entirely white, middle-class girls, when I have met less than a handful of people who weren’t white girls in eating disorder treatment, we have a major problem in our system of recovery. Eating disorders do not affect one demographic. They are a huge, devastating issue.

And it’s past time to fight that.