My Struggle With an Undiagnosed Eating Disorder | And My Not So Recovery

 Wow. Never would I have imagined that I would be able to put this down into words. Here it goes.

The Discovery

All of my life I have been fed the line 'you have to be skinny to be pretty' 

What does that even mean, "skinny"? Does it mean you can see your ribcage? Does it mean you have a thigh gap? Does it mean you think less of yourself when you have a little pudge hanging over your pants? 

I started to realize that I had something wrong around 5th grade (that's the saddest part of it all, being influenced at such a young age) when I went to Red Lobster with my family. I had eaten 3 cheddar biscuits and realized halfway through my last mouthful how many I had eaten and the impact that was going to have on my body. I motioned towards the bathroom to my family and sprinted away. Not the sliest approach as my mother immediately followed me and caught me mid-barf hunched over the toilet. All she said was 'I knew something was wrong. What's going on?' 

It took all of me to not break down in tears. Curl up into the fetal position on the Red Lobster bathroom floor. Instead, I had to come up with the excuse that my stomach was upset. That was the beginning of all of the lying. The faking. The deception. 

From there I got super into running and eating only fruits and vegetables. My mom noticed a difference in my appetite and my exercise routine. She took me to the doctor for a 'check-up'. He asked me all of the questions I would expect from a doctor who was told by the patient's mother they may have an eating disorder. How much do you eat a day? What does your typical day of food look like? Do you think highly of other's opinions of you? The appointment ended with him telling my mom and me that I was underweight and needed to eat fatty foods. So my mom bought me chocolate bars and Little Debbie snacks and hid them in the basement so no one else would eat them. None of which I ate. 

As a young girl going through this alone, my mental health was drastically altered. Thinking I wasn't good enough and not having anyone to say that I was. Pretending I was fine when in reality I was struggling to stay afloat. I knew I wasn't fat. I knew I was great at school. I knew I had all of these things going for me. I didn't grow up in a rough family. I had a loving family, so why was I having these thoughts and feelings? 

To this day the only reason behind all of this that I could think of is the media. Seeing all of these models and actors getting all the attention because of their looks. I've never been a 10, but I thought maybe if my body was I could bump my overall score up. Today I still have the struggle. I go for weeks only eating smoothies and fruits and vegetables. Watching my calories, carbs, sugars. Letting social media get to my head by watching the "what I eat in a day" videos made by models.

Throughout high school, I ran and ran and ran. Played soccer, ran track, and ran cross country on my own time. Trying to get that six-pack. Trying to feel like I could be someone. It never got excessive. I didn't throw up past the day at Red Lobster. It took me until after freshman year of high school to get past 100 pounds. When people would make the comments, "wow. you are so skinny" or "Woah. my right leg would be the only thing that fits in your pants" it would make me strangely giddy like they are noticing my progress. Noticing that I was skinny. 

The Recovery

The journey has been hard and not all the way successful. My wife has been my BIGGEST supporter. I still make comments. I still feel 'ugly' some days. Yet they are still there for me to pick me right back up. 

I have just learned that to be heathy, that doesn't mean you count calories. It doesn't mean you increase your cardio. It doesn't mean you have to be able to see your ribs. It means you are eating to FUEL your body with the nutrients you need. Your body works so hard to keep you alive every single second of the day. Why not work just as hard to give it what it needs to perform the best.

I saw a message this morning that said "when your eating disorder is yelling at you and you eat breakfast anyway. I feel like that needs to be celebrated" and it REALLY hit home. Showing your inner demons that you can overpower them.  

Yes I have gained weight. I can see the difference. I can see the fat on my stomach. My face is thicker. My arms are a little more flabby, my thighs touch when I stand. Does that mean I'm fat? Does that mean I'm unhealthy? No. It actually means I am fueling and supporting my body to do everything it can to keep me alive. 

It's hard and I'm still not good at it. I see pictures and think 'yeah, delete that. I look fat' I then have to back out of those thoughts and turn them around. 

I am healthy 

and I am strong.