How did it ever come to this? How did I go this far? What started out as a commitment to being “healthy” had gradually escalated to something far beyond my control—something very unhealthy in fact. Was it possible that there could actually be something wrong with me? Could I really be—dare I say it, anorexic?
I say this by no means to cause unnecessary alarm to anyone or even send you into uncalled-for scrutiny of yourself, but rather to enlighten, challenge and most importantly, bring some encouragement to any collegiette™ reading who feels like I did—alone in the struggles she may be facing. So I will share my story with you, good and bad, in hopes that you take it for exactly what it is—my personal experience with distorted body image and disordered eating and how I got better.
I can remember when I was younger, before I ever thought about what my own body looked like, seeing specials on TV about perfectly beautiful girls looking in the mirror only to see hideously “fat” images of themselves. These girls were holding themselves to impossible standards of “beauty” and literally starving themselves for the sake of being thin. At the time I couldn’t fathom having these thoughts or ever denying myself what was such a natural part of day-to-day human life—food. But I was still a child and hadn’t yet faced any pressure, if you will, for my body to look a certain way.
It would not be long though before I myself began to realize that what I saw in the mirror did not quite measure up. Sometime around the age of 14, I began to notice that perhaps I was a little chubbier looking than I would have liked to be. I decided I should make an effort to be more “healthy” in order to lose a few pounds. Of course this started out small—choosing to skip the salad dressing or mayonnaise, eating a few less Little Debbies, adding a few fruits and veggies here and there. I also played sports, so I engaged in a fair amount of exercise as well. As a result I lost about 10 or 12 pounds over the next six months or so. I was healthy, happy, and of sound mind, however this would only last so long.
Although I felt and looked great, I continued to watch what I ate and gradually began to plan all of my meals and snacks, which eventually turned into over-meticulously analyzing just about everything that went into my mouth. In another six months or so, it became quite obvious that I was getting a little too thin. I say it was obvious because there did not seem to be anyone who did not have some opinion or concern about me, including friends, friends’ parents, my extended family, and even my teachers. It seemed that everyone had something to say, and I was simply tired of hearing it. I mean, I was just being healthy right? Or was I? My parents seemed to be the only ones who did not think something was wrong with me. They thought that because they saw me eating, that must mean that I was ok. But the truth was, I had them fooled. And what’s more, I had even fooled myself. What had begun as simply being more aware of what I ate had turned into a mental obsession that I could no longer control.
During Christmas that year, I remember first realizing that what I was experiencing was no longer healthy. At the time I had not been playing sports for whatever reason, which was probably a good thing since I had become so thin and weak. However what really struck me was how cold and tired I was. I remember visiting at my cousins’ house and not wanting to do anything but sit wrapped in a blanket. I was so tired that literally all I had the energy to do was sit and try to stay warm. I began to wonder how this could be normal or healthy in any way.
Then the day came when I finally saw in the mirror what everyone else was seeing. A family member had mentioned to me not long before that she thought my legs looked like sticks. Offended and hurt by the comment, I concluded that she had no right to judge me because she was fat, so how could she know what is healthy? (This was clearly a flawed thought process that I had conditioned myself to believe to be logical.) But then one day as I haphazardly caught a side-glance of myself in the mirror, I saw it… my legs did look like sticks! For the slightest second I saw a girl who was no longer working towards an admirable goal, but a girl striving for an unattainable ideal who was insecure, unhealthy and sickly thin. Yet I was still terrified of gaining weight, even when I looked like this. This was the day that I decided I had to needed to change.
So now that I could see that I had a big problem, I should have been able to fix it… right? Not so simple. This was only the beginning of a very long, hard road to recovery, a road filled with discouragement, difficult challenges, and most of all, in my case anyway, a path that turned out to be very lonely. At first I was scared, but this fear quickly turned into determination to get myself back to health and out of this state of misery. I had to work hard every day not to mindlessly count calories and keep a running tally of my total calorie consumption for the day—a task made even harder as I had the caloric content of just about anything and everything memorized by heart! I had to convince myself over and over that eating certain foods would not suddenly make me blow up like a balloon. I had to force myself to refrain from looking in mirrors because I was incapable of looking in a mirror, or walking past a car or store window for that matter, without checking to my reflection to make sure my stomach looked flat enough. These were the sorts of habits I had developed and had become a slave to during this short (about year long) stint of obsession over my body and food.
While I knew in my head that I needed to get rid of these habits in my life in order to get better, this was much easier said than done. Though it was not an easy road at all, the fact that I now realized my problem and need to get better is what made the difference for me. Because at that point, no matter how upset I was or how ugly I thought I might have looked, I was completely aware that my thinking was distorted. I knew that my thoughts would most likely not make sense to “normal” people who lived their lives without the constant mental obsession of food, scales, and measuring tape. So I did what I set out to do. I changed, little by little, day by day. I cried countless tears, and I even lost many of these daily battles of debating whether or not to sneak a peak at the nutrition label of what I was eating, or whether or not to measure my waistline just one more time. I kept telling myself that I had to keep going and keep trying.
Probably one of the most difficult aspects of this struggle for me was that I never told anyone what I was going through. As I mentioned earlier, it all went largely unnoticed by my parents, partially because of other things going on in my life during that time, but also because I wanted it to remain hidden. I learned how to play the game, and I did a very good job of keeping all of my feelings buried inside as well. I had become very withdrawn.
Thankfully, starting over at Campbell University was a good turning point for me. I had already made tons of progress from those miserable days mentioned before, and then I met a friend at Campbell in whom I was able to truly confide. She had a story very similar to mine. We shared, each for our first time, with each other the cumbersome secrets of our past. This was a HUGE step toward healing for me. I began to feel for the first time that I was not alone in what I had gone through and in the scars which with I was left.
Since then, things have only gotten better. As I have already stated many times, the road to healing was not without its ups and downs, but ultimately I have come out with a healthy appreciation for good nutrition and a strong confidence in the person God has made me to be.
Looking back over the past eight years, I am extremely grateful for my experience. While I find it hard to imagine that I actually used to think the way I did, I believe it was not without purpose. In the beginning of the healing process I felt appalled and ashamed at my past. Now I realize the immeasurable value in a story like mine and the impact it can have as a source of encouragement for others going through the same thing. I have already been able to help a few other friends and close loved ones with my experience, and I only hope to do more of that in the future.
Rachel would like you to know, collegiettes™, that if you are experiencing anything that you feel you cannot handle, you can ALWAYS come see her or contact her. She has been called to share her story and would love to help anyone who is going through a similar situation.