When ED Came: Part Three

Your body is a temple.
It's a gift from God. 
Treat it well. 

Somewhere, somehow, at the age of probably 14, I decided my body was disgusting. It's a strong word, but it's exactly what I thought. I looked in the mirror, day after day, feeling like there was too much of me there. I wanted to be like the other skinny girls; I couldn't handle looking like the ones society labeled as 'big'. It set me off into a storm of tears and stomping on the scale. 

I thought things were too tight on my body. I thrived when my guy friends would comment on how small I was. I loved when girls at school would say how good I looked. There was one morning I weighed myself and hated the numbers I saw on the scale. I sobbed and told myself I was too fat, that no one would ever like me, that I had to be better the next day. During my advisory period a boy told me I was skinny and I thought, "Oh, he thinks I'm skinny, so I must be. I'm doing okay." Followed by, "But I need to be skinnier. I need more people to see. I need them to like me."

My mind was filled with toxic "thinspiration" photos I saw on the internet. I was obsessed about what I did and did not eat. I lied when asked if I ate breakfast or lunch. At night I had a routine to burn off extra calories.  But if you look at those pictures from around 14-16, I don't look like your typical girl with an eating disorder. I just look like a small five foot high school girl. No one knew what I did to avoid gaining any weight and how dark my mind was. 

I thought I had it all figured out once I started feeling mentally and emotionally more stable. Around the age of 16, things were getting a lot better for me. There were a lot of positive changes. 

And then it started again.

Looking back, I'm not sure it was as severe as it was the first time. But, I told myself my "love" for running was motivated by a desire to truly and honestly care for my body. Really, with every step, I thought about how many calories I burned. I became obsessive again. 

I would go through periods where I would restrict, then binge, restrict, binge. I would tell myself I knew better, eat normally (sometimes excessively), then regret it and feel disgusting, therefore denying myself the thing I needed to survive. It carried on like that until I went on a mission. For a year and a half I didn't really focus too much on my weight, but there were times when I got more serious about our 30 minutes of exercise in the morning. 

As is normal for a missionary, I gained weight. I came home feeling the biggest I had ever been. I returned to college and went back to what I was most comfortable doing. Once again, I was seeking for the approval of these college boys I was surrounded by. I saw girls in my classes or around campus I thought were beautiful because they were thin, and in my mind I was being judged by them for not looking 'pretty and skinny enough.' With access to a decent gym on campus, I started going and became obsessed. Again. I put intense pressure on myself to go on a regular schedule. If I didn't, my anxiety levels went up. If something came up where I couldn't go to the gym at my normal time, I moved around my entire schedule to make sure I could go that day. And if I couldn't and didn't make it, I was gaining weight just by not going. On the days I didn't go, I watched what entered my body- or made sure nothing did.

I was exhausted. My body was going through too much physically, emotionally, and mentally, I'm surprised I didn't call home crying more. But I was falling asleep in class and I looked in the mirror each morning to find if anything was changing. 

Around the time I was figuring out the whole therapy/counseling thing, I was realizing this was an issue I couldn't figure out on my own. The binge and restrict cycle was putting my body through a toll and my thought process was so slow because it was deprived of vital nutrients. I was constantly being dragged down. 

With the idea of going for anxiety, I also wanted to address this problem. With the first guy I went to see, I mentioned how this was an issue. He told me I needed to see a professional and he couldn't help me. Which, yes, I get he didn't have the training for that, but he also didn't even try to help me find available resources. He essentially said, "Can't help you, so good luck." As y'all know I didn't stay with him for long, so when I was searching for new therapists, I sought for one familiar with eating disorders. When I called up the counseling center to request a first appointment, they told me the woman who typically deals with eating disorders probably wasn't available, but they would still schedule an appointment with me to help me with my anxiety and find other resources if need be.

Around this time I was still praying, hoping good could come, and I was happy when the therapist I searched for online who specialized in eating disorders was in fact available, and she was the one I met with and continue to meet with this day.

She's helped me see how controlling ED (eating disorder) voice is. She has helped me see that my relationship with food has been full of hate and disgust. It was never something I needed to survive, it was something to be avoided. Obviously, it's all still a work in progress. As I've learned since the age of 14, this kind of thing doesn't just go away. For years I've trained myself to hate my body and to hate food.

This was the biggest step I've taken to get help. Some things we just can't do on our own. I started thinking about my life down the road. When I have daughters, do I want them to see how I live my life? Do I really want to pass this down to them? Don't I want a healthy body to hopefully one day carry children? I couldn't possibly carry on like this for the rest of my life. Five years was already five years too long. 

My therapist has talked about this often.
Would you say the things you say to yourself to your friends?

My value isn't found in my waist size or if people perceive me as attractive. For years I've been able to support other women who are proud of their bodies. I keep saying that every body is beautiful and we don't need to fit into society's norms of beauty because they're wack. I cheer on the sidelines and find beauty in everyone because we are all beautiful. But I could never see it in myself. 

Every day I still have to remind myself to eat. I've been reading a book my therapist gave me which talks about the myth of dieting and our body's natural clock, and all this stuff that actually, for once, makes sense to me when caring for my body. When I think about going to the gym, I make sure it's because I just want to improve my health and be strong for no one else but myself. Slowly, very, very slowly, I'm finding peace with my mind and body. I'm tired of the cycles. It was easy for me to be home for the summer and have my parents close by and good food in the fridge. I'm back at school now. My schedule is different and I have new stresses, so it's easy to let that cycle back in. In fact just this week my therapist looked at my food logs and reminded me to keep working, to not let ED back. I've been working incredibly hard to find balance in it all.

Our bodies are miracles. Gosh, when I think of all they can do and how much we do to them, I'm amazed. It's truly one of God's greatest creations.
If you're struggling with an eating disorder, or habits of one, or another type of mental illness, seek help. I always used to pride myself in how strong I was and how much I did on my own, but that wasn't always the best way. There's nothing wrong with getting help. Ever.
"Let the good thoughts grow."
As always, thanks for reading!

---Maggie