And so it begins...
Recovery from an eating disorder. What does that even mean? What is the process? How long does it take? Is it an achievable thing or a hopeless wish? How did I get here in the first place? Will I ever be able to love myself? Can I overcome my desperate desire to do everything perfectly?
So many questions are tied into an eating disorder. Questions that really delve into a person's being. They uncover much of the unknown about a person's deepest feelings and emotions, but can lead to further questions that may be even tougher to answer. It's a process. A long, insightful, many a times painful, but enlightening process, that can seem like hell at one point, but a true gift at another. So let my story unfold...
New Years Eve 2011: The weakest point in my life, which just so happened to lead to the most life changing one. This date will always be remembered for many reasons. At this point, I am not comfortable sharing the full details as to why it will never be forgotten, but I promise to share it when I am ready. However, the part I am willing to share is actually the most important, for it brought me to where I am today: Recovery. NYE will never be forgotten, for it was the point in my story where I finally reached out to someone about needing help for my eating disorder. Interestingly enough, the one I chose was my big brother, and the reasons behind this stem from his own experience with some mental health issues, anxiety, etc. I was scared, lonely, and in desperate need of comforting words from someone I knew would talk to me, love me, be there for me despite the crazy words coming out of my mouth. When the words first left my lips, I felt an instant surge of regret. How could I admit to this? I was so embarrassed, so ashamed to be so weak and vulnerable. I was always the one in the family who claimed independence, strength, and determination. Why was I crashing? What led me to transform from the powerful, driven, intelligent student to the child who could only focus on exercising an X amount of hours, eating X amount of calories, and obsessing over everything to do with food?
Post divulging my deepest, darkest secret to my brother, I finally began the process of recovery. A senior in college, about to graduate, and of course my life is hit by this shitstorm disease....but I suppose if I were ED, I would have labeled this the perfect time to hit as well. Though 2012 was the year my eating disorder came to life among my family, friends, etc., I had been struggling since middle school, possibly as far back as grade school. As a child, I struggled with low self-esteem, body image issues, and a feeling that I was always "different" and didn't quite belong. After being teased about my weight and appearance at such a young age, combined with some unintentionally painful comments made by those closet to me, I began to throw up my food. It started of slowly, where I would only throw up if I felt I had ate too much that night, etc. But those initial steps led me to where I am today.
The purging only worsened throughout the years, yet didn't seem to be a real issue until high school. That's when the pressures to be popular, pretty, skinny, etc. hit and hit hard. As the baby of the family, I was following in my older sister (and brothers) footsteps. My competitive nature and desire to be the best caused me to go to extremities in everything. And I mean everything. I had to do better in school, I had to be better at soccer, I had to be faster at skiing, I HAD to prove that I was "worthy" through my successes. Worthy of love, acceptance, and general acknowledgement from my family, peers, etc. If I wasn't the best, then I was nothing (hello black and white thinking).
With a personality like mine, it's no shock that as soon as stumbled upon disordered eating and the different aspects revolving around it, I felt I had uncovered an opportunity of relief. Relief from everything I could not control in my life through binging, purging, and punishing my body by depriving it of something it needs to survive.
Looking back to those years, I am shocked to admit how long I have struggled with this disorder. Before I had even become a teenager, I hated myself in so many ways...and that was only the beginning.
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