It doesn’t always start with hating yourself. I was always bigger growing up, but I always loved myself. I never looked in the mirror and hated what I saw, because my family and friends preached inner beauty and self love. I was constantly told that I looked just like my mother who I thought was beautiful and perfect. It doesn’t always start with hating yourself, but it has a way of telling you you’re not worth it.
I have always been an anxious person. I can remember being in elementary school having panic attacks because I if I didn’t understand my homework I was stupid, but I always had control over my anxiety.
I learned how to calm myself down, and ways to prevent myself from becoming too anxious, but that was the problem. I needed a sense of control over every aspect of life, and when there were thing I couldn’t control I didn’t know how to handle it. Junior year of high school is when I learned there was something I could always control no matter what.
Junior year in high school I was involved in a fatal car accident that completely shook my world. I couldn’t control my emotions, my anxiety, or the rumors flying around school. I had lost that sense of control I so desperately needed, and I felt lost, guilty, and angry. It was that moment I began to hear the voice. He told me that I wasn’t worthy of eating because it was my fault that man was dead.
He fueled the guilt I already felt, and he told me the only way I could regain my worth was to restrict myself. I hid this voice from everyone; my friends, my family, even my therapist, until finally I felt comfortable opening up to my school’s counselor, but she encouraged the voice. She told me it was normal to use eating as a source of control after a tragedy. This only made the voice stronger. I continued skipping meals, but this time I started running on top of the hours of dance class each night. Then the compliments started flowing in. People told me I looked great and beautiful, they said I had lost weight. The voice took advantage of this “see, people think you’re worth something when you don’t eat” he would say. So I continued. I thought it was normal because my counselor, a professional, told me it was.
It wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I realized this was not normal. My roommate helped me recognize what I was doing to myself, and helped me realize I deserved help. Four years later I do occasionally hear this voice, but I remember all of the people who love me and support me. I remember my freshman year roommate, and best friend, who showed me what true compassion and strength was, and most of all I remember I am worth it. Eating disorders don’t always start with hating yourself, but they sure have a way of making you believe you’re not worth it, but I want you to remember that you are worth it.