I always heard about other people struggling with eating disorders, but never thought that one day it would be me. It seemed silly to me that individuals would willingly deprive themselves of food and not fulfill their hunger. After struggling with an eating disorder of my own, I can say that it is much more complicated than that. Every person afflicted by an eating disorder has a different story and this is mine.
It is difficult to pinpoint exactly when my thoughts became disordered, but I feel like it was last spring during my junior year of high school. I was not exactly happy with my appearance at the time, but I was far from hating myself. I consider it to be pretty typical teenage girl insecurity. I decided to make some healthy changes to my lifestyle, but over time I took these changes too far.
I first became more conscious of what I ate. I initially made some slight variations to what I consumed for breakfast and lunch. These changes were not anything drastic, and my only intention was to eat a little healthier. Once the summer started I began training for Cross-Country. This season was my fourth year on the team and unlike the previous summers, I was completely diligent with my training. My first priority was to fit my running in, and I never missed a scheduled day of training. I honestly cannot remember exactly what my eating habits were, but I remember being aware of what I was consuming. Towards the end of August I went into the doctor’s for my physical. I lost 5 pounds from the previous summer. The doctor told me it was fine, but that I should stop from any further weight loss. I also told her that I had not menstruated in almost two months, and she said to continue to monitor it.
School commenced in September, and it was my senior year of high school. The Cross-Country season began, and I emerged as one of the top runners on my team. The other three years I was just an average J.V. runner, but for my final season I improved immensely. I placed well in all of our meets, and it felt amazing to help my team win. I took my role on the team very seriously and fueling my body was crucial to me. My eating habits were okay, but I was conscious about what I was putting into my mouth. I probably did restrict myself at times but luckily I was too concerned with my performance in Cross-Country to care all that much.
I distinctly remember weighing myself right before Cross-Country ended and seeing I gained a couple pounds from the time of my physical. I recall not being particularly pleased that I gained weight, and I yearned to return to my prior weight. Around Thanksgiving my Cross-Country season finished, and though I was upset for my high school running career to conclude, I was also ready to have more time to myself. Immediately after the season ended I began working out on my own. In past years I would exercise for half an hour on the elliptical, but this year I added some other exercises as well. In total I would work out for about an hour everyday. I believe I was exercising 5 days a week in December, but I do not remember if I exercised 6 or 7 days some weeks.
December was my eating habits took a turn for the worse. Since Cross-Country was finished, the pressure I felt to eat a substantial lunch before my workouts was gone. I do not remember exactly when my lunches changed, but I know they did at some point during that month. I became more conscious of portion sizes and was beginning to restrict. I remember making my lunches over Christmas break, and I was starting to look at calories, though I had no specific number in mind. I tried to eat a little less than I did before.
At some point in December my weight dropped back to what it was over the summer and I entered it into the elliptical. My mom also would use the elliptical, and she once commented that I should not lose any more weight. I failed to listen, and even as my weight dropped I kept it the same in the elliptical. Quite frankly, I was deceiving my mom on what I weighed. That should have been a red flag to me that I was starting to engage in unhealthy behavior, but I was blind to it.
January is when I really descended into my eating disorder. First, my lunches became more restrictive as the month went on. I determined a certain number of calories that my lunches had to be. I remember when I would pack my lunches at night I would go back and forth between the kitchen and my computer so I could look up the calories in various foods. At some point my mom put a little food scale in the kitchen, and I began to use it to weigh some of my food. I wanted to make sure that the serving of food I ate was equal to the serving size for the calorie numbers I looked up. Initially all my lunches were at that specific calorie number and sometimes even a bit above. After awhile though, they began to dip below that number, and I felt a strange pressure to keep my lunches at that lower number. Another personal rule I had was that my lunches had to consist of 4 separate food items, though the items were more like snacks than an actual lunch. I also limited my afternoon snacks and by the time dinner came around I would be starving because I was never truly satisfying myself.
In January and the beginning of February, I began weighing myself obsessively. It initially started as once a day, but reached a point where I would weigh myself around 5 times a day. Some of it was just pure curiosity, but regardless it was unhealthy. I continued to see my weight go down and was completely content with the decreasing number.
As time went on I also became fixated on my exercise routine. Eventually I would only take an off-day if something came up. I remember a span where I exercised everyday for at least 2 weeks straight. My life practically revolved around it; it was just as much as a priority as school. It completely consumed me. Most of my thoughts were either about eating or exercising, and they were sadly becoming my purpose in life.
I can recall a few instances when I went to bed slightly hungry. Though it was a bit uncomfortable, I fell asleep fine and felt accomplished that I lasted the night with hunger pains. I was aware that I was not satisfying my body, but it did not seem matter to me. I took pride in my decreased intake.
As my weight continued to drop, I distinctly remember being really cold all the time. New Jersey winters are chilly for everyone, but I was always freezing. I dreaded walking across the street from my car to the school because my hands would get chilblains on them, which are painful red bumps from inflammation in blood vessels. I was even chilly when I was at home and overall, it was not an enjoyable winter.
My mom would occasionally comment that I was skinnier, and I was scared she would find out that I had lost weight. Somehow I thought I had it all under control: I always told myself that one day I would start eating more and would put back on the weight I had lost. Even though I was frightened of my mom finding out, I still wanted to lose more weight. It’s not that I had any particular celebrity in mind I wanted to look like or any person I wanted to impress—I was really just infatuated with the decreasing number on the scale and pushing my body to its limits.
I continued these behaviors into the middle of February until one day when I had awful constipation problems. I will not delve into any details, but I was miserable. I had to miss a day of school, and I am the type of person who hates being absent. My mom researched the causes of constipation online and asked me how much I weighed. I broke down and told her, but the number I said was on the higher end of what I actually weighed. She was shocked and upset that I was deceiving her. In an odd way though I was relieved to have it off my chest. Keeping my weight a secret for so long exhausted me. My mom told me to gain some weight back, but I was resistant. I tried to convince her that I was still healthy. At first she relented and told me that I could stay where I was at, but she continued to worry. I still had not menstruated since the summer, so she scheduled a doctor’s appointment a few days later.
The doctor’s appointment was when I was officially diagnosed with an eating disorder. I kind of knew it all along, but was still in denial. I did not think I needed any help. The doctor asked me some questions to determine that I had restrictive eating habits. My diagnosis was not anorexia, but it did not matter. I was still harming my health. My doctor gave me a meal plan to follow, which I responded to with relief and anger. I was aware that my eating was disordered, but I resented someone telling me what to eat.
My recovery process has certainly had its ups and downs, but I am in a much better place right now. I have a nutritionist and therapist who have helped me throughout the process, and I will be starting group therapy in a few weeks. My family has been awesome in their support of my eating, and I am blessed to have them. My mom has really taken control of my eating, which I am extremely luck for. It is difficult to go from a restrictive diet to one with an abundance of food. Though I believed I had everything under control, I did not. I truly could not have made it this far in the recovery process without all their help. I still struggle with restricting at times though, and unfortunately I will probably battle with that for the rest of my life.
Though the increased intake was difficult for me, having to cut back my exercise at times has proved even harder. My doctor told me to take 2 off-days per week and some weeks it is a struggle. If I have free time I feel lazy if I do not exercise. I also have recently taken up yoga, which I do 1 or 2 days a week in place of cardio. I am not a flexible person, but I still love it. Yoga is a different sort of exercise and has taught me I can still be active without doing cardio.
It has been almost a year since my last period, and I want it back terribly. As much as every girl hates when it is her time of the month, as a female it is natural to menstruate. Not menstruating for long periods of time can lead to bone loss, so I may develop osteoporosis at a very young age. The fact that my eating disorder could affect my health later on in life is startling, but on the days when I feel like giving up it is my motivation to keep going.
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from ever restricting, but unfortunately I cannot do that. All I can do is continue to recover and try to develop a healthy relationship with food. I need to recognize that restricting my intake and compulsively exercising is not healthy. Loving my body and realizing that food is not the enemy is healthy. I still struggle with comparing myself to others as well, but I am slowly trying to conquer that. I need to accept that I am different from those around me and comparing myself to others will lead to nothing but negative thoughts. This is the only body I have, so I should learn to love it. I find it especially hard to recover in a society so fixated on losing weight and dieting. The pressures to restrict are constantly present and I often want to scream at the media and tell them to shut up. At times I feel the world is encouraging my disordered eating.
I always wonder where I would be if I never went to my doctor and received help. I am certain my eating would have spiraled more out of control and I would have continued to lose weight. I could have eventually descended into anorexia, and I am extremely lucky to never know if that would have happened. I hope by sharing my story, I will help others understand what it is like to suffer from an eating disorder. My story is different from those of other individuals because each person’s battle with an eating disorder is unique. Just because a person’s symptoms are not as severe as another individual’s does not mean that they do not deserve help. Eating disorders do not discriminate and can affect people of any age, gender, or size. To anyone reading this, if you believe you are suffering from an eating disorder please talk to someone you trust. Recovering saved me from developing a more serious eating disorder and could do the same for you.