Adjusting Focus

In honor of National Eating Disorder Week, I wanted to share with you my recent experience with my eating disorder. I've struggled with an eating disorder since I was about 13 years old. With various mental health struggles hitting me hard with the start of quarantine and COVID-19, I decided to see a psychiatrist. I was given a new diagnosis (something I am not quite ready to delve into on here as I try to figure it out for myself), and new medication. This medication had a side effect of weight gain. I was hesitant to try it at first, knowing that I was still in recovery from my eating disorder and worried potential weight gain could trigger me. Still, I was desperate to sleep and stop oversleeping, to feel like my life had purpose again. Within a few weeks, I'd noticed weight gain as my jeans started to get tighter. I shed a lot of tears and hated getting ready to go to work. At the same time, I was feeling emotionally lighter, ready to face the world in front of me. After ca...

I've spent the last couple months constantly on the move. Nannying part-time, trying to get 250 hours done for my internship, maintaining my physical health, and trying to find moments to myself have kept me busy. For the most part, I've loved every second of it. I was starting to feel fulfilled in life, starting to become a version of myself I was happy with. There was a sense of freedom and belonging I hadn't felt in a long time. Coming out and getting away from Rexburg was a huge burden lifted. But I write to you at 4am because I feel heavy. We all know the state of the world right now. Honestly, for the most part I've been pretty calm about it. I'm trying my best to do my part in flattening the curve, staying safe, keeping myself informed, etc,. Amidst all the chaos, I've found joy in the newfound hours I get to write and play the piano. All the memes make life a little more bearable and keep me laughing. I've been working out in my room to keep my bod...

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, ...