It’s a Saturday night and, like most other teenagers, I’m hanging out with my friends. It feels as if all of my worries have been lifted off my shoulders as I laugh and joke around with them. Until I hear the dreadful words that most typical people get excited to hear: “We should go out to dinner tonight!” My head starts to spiral, my legs start to bounce, and my smile and laugh fades. I immediately ask where we plan on going so I can search the online menu from top to bottom to find a “safe” food to eat. As my friends continue to laugh worry-free, I sit there in silence, drowning within my own thoughts. My first thought every time I notice that sentence didn’t affect anyone else is: “Will I ever be normal again?” The weight of the fear on my shoulders about the calories I eat, the number on the scale, and how many calories I burn each day makes me feel as if I'm drowning. At times I’m strong enough to stay afloat as I tell myself that I can handle the thoughts and challenge my fear. At other times I don’t even have the energy, and I drown as I fight my thoughts, so I simply just let them win without a care about how much damage it does to my body. No matter which way I am feeling there is one thing that never changes; I will smile through it and pretend like I’m not in a constant battle with my own head. 

My friends and I arrive at the restaurant and, as usual, I order the food that I already calculated into my phone but, for some reason, I still feel an immense amount of fear. It fits into my limit for the day so why would I still be anxious? As my friends talk and laugh, I sit and eat my food anxiously thinking about how much I will regret it afterwards. Why can’t I just be normal? After everyone is done, we pay our bills and get up to leave. As we get to our cars, the guilt starts to set in worse than when I was eating. As I sit there feeling insane because I fear the thing that keeps us alive, everyone else goes on with their lives like any other normal human. Why am I like this? How did I allow myself to get this stuck? Will I have to live with this feeling forever?

 I get home and yet again, run to the one thing I base my entire self worth on. I walk into the bathroom and my eyes are immediately drawn to the white object next to the shower. I look down at it, shaking in fear as I listen to the drips of the water from my faucet hitting the sink. The mirror above my sink is staring at me when I finally build up the courage to step onto the dreadful scale. My heart drops as I see that the number rose. I look in the mirror, my eyes filled with tears showing pure disappointment in myself. Not just because the number rose, but because I can’t understand why I always let myself feel this way over the number shown to me on a white square. Instead of doing the action that the healthy side of my brain says and distracting myself as I let the guilt pass, I listen to the bad side of my brain and I go to the treadmill. I run for over 2 1/2 hours until my parents text me and tell me to stop. The guilt finally settles enough for me to shower and go to bed. 

The next morning, I wake up and my weight is normal again. I feel a sense of relief, yet the guilt of what I am doing never leaves me. I just want to get better, but summer is around the corner so I think to myself, “It’s ok, I can wait just a little longer.” I told myself the same thing last May in 2023. Deep down, I know that I will never feel ready and that the mindset of waiting until I'm “skinny” is just my brain tricking me to fall even deeper into it.  After losing an insane amount of weight in a single month and receiving endless compliments at the end of sophomore year, I feared putting even a single pound back on. This feeling weighs me down like rocks in the ocean. 

This obsession stays with me wherever I am: As I sit in class thinking about how many calories I ate the day before while I'm supposed to be paying attention and learning. As I realize that my brain doesn’t work the way it used to and is constantly foggy. As I start to rely on energy drinks to keep me awake throughout the school day. As I watch my grades drop throughout junior year. As I feel my love for volleyball start to fade away. As I find myself becoming a whole new person screaming, crying, yelling back, and refusing food from my loved ones. As I go against my morals and lie to everyone around me that I had already eaten. As I find myself staring and picking my body apart in the mirror for hours each day. As I have to weigh myself multiple times a day to relieve my anxiety. As I only feel comfortable wearing sweatpants and sweatshirts to school in order to hide my body. As I find myself faking a smile more often than not. As I notice that finding the motivation to get out of bed takes me so long that I'm either late to my first hour or just on time. As I notice myself laying in my bed for hours on end just to avoid eating. As I notice myself willing to do absolutely anything I need to in order to not gain weight. I have realized that this fear that I'm living with has taken more than just a few pounds off of my body; it has taken away my life, the will to get up in the morning, and most importantly, it has made me lose sight of who I am. 

After struggling for so long, I have decided that I'm sick of living with this feeling. Deep down, I know that the weight that I need to lose isn’t on my body, it’s the fear I have of letting go. If I try to get better, I will lose the one thing that I crave the most. Control. Is giving up the control worth it to get my life back? That seems like it would be an obvious answer for most people, but for me it might be one of my toughest decisions yet. Am I ready? I know that no matter what I will be scared and have to battle with my own thoughts, but I only have two choices: I can either allow myself to be scared of food and let my thoughts control me, or I can give up the control that I feel I have over the numbers and fight against my thoughts so that they will stop controlling me. Choosing to heal might sound extremely uncomfortable and time consuming, but I have realized that allowing it to continue to control me for the rest of my life is even more terrifying. Accepting help will be one of the scariest decisions I will ever have to make, but I have finally come to the tough realization that sometimes the only way out is through. In the end, life is way too short to spend it at war with your body and choosing recovery could be the smallest step in the right direction, leading to the biggest step of your life.