*Trigger warning: Anorexia and eating disorders
I used to love food. And I guess I never stopped loving it; I just changed the way I expressed my love.
Where I once obsessed over it, savoring the different combinations of flavor and texture, at some point during my freshman year at Geneseo, things changed. I began to obsess over quantifying the calories that made up each bite, portioning out my days down to the teaspoon, and placing what was once my favorite treats on a pedestal that others could indulge in, but was out of reach to me.
And out of reach they stayed, for around a year. I hid the weight loss from my family and friends making excuses for why I just had to go to the gym for the third time that day. I ate before I came. I really love running. I just don’t like chocolate cake.
Finally, this summer, after my doctor told me the multitude of physical symptoms I had begun to experience were side effects of malnutrition and being severely underweight, I chose recovery. Even in the beginning, with the ability to prepare my own meals and struggle through the process of recovery in the privacy of my own home, it was not an easy journey. Feeling bloated, gaining weight, the guilt. None of that prepared me for how much harder things would be upon returning to campus.
Living essentially “on my own” at college was probably one of the main things that had initially enabled the development of my anorexia. The freedom to choose what I ate throughout the day without anyone holding me accountable meant I was never under any obligation to eat something. Coupled with my fear of gaining the dreaded “freshman fifteen” led to a pattern of severe restriction which I am still recovering from. Frankly, recovery isn’t always easy, and returning to campus, in a sense, challenges it, not to mention bringing up painful memories of times when I allowed my disorder to consume me. At home, my parents had been holding me accountable throughout the summer, supervising that I was nourishing myself with the three meals and snacks my body needs to return to a healthy BMI, but the beginning of the semester meant I once again have the freedom to allow my eating disorder to take charge.
Still, I am determined to recover. However, dining reformations due to the current pandemic are proving a challenge. Because of my illness, I experience anxiety around eating “too much.” By that, I mean I feel guilt when eating a larger portion than others around me or, for example, asking for seconds. A new policy in the buffet style dining halls this year in light of the current pandemic is that rather than having the privilege to serve yourself, employees scoop the food onto your plate. In classic CAS fashion, this means that they initially serve you the minimum portion, meaning if you want, say, more than one leg of chicken, or three ravioli, you have to ask for them to serve you another. While I understand this policy is what is safest and am glad my school has taken precautions to prevent the spread of COVID-19, vocalizing a request for a larger portion can be intimidating when you’re dealing with eating disorders.
In addition, as the typical broke college student, budgeting my allotted dollar amount on my meal plan is a priority. As I’m sure many other students agree, on campus dining options are overpriced—basic items like a singular apple or yogurt inflated to more than double what they would be at a grocery store. Some of my personal favorite examples of this are paying $4 for a protein bar, $8 for what is 150 calories worth of dumplings or a hefty $7 for milk and cereal. It is easily plausible that you could spend the allotted dollar amount for the day and be left in a calorie deficit, making eating intuitively challenging. While I am trying to practice listening to my hunger cues and return to a healthy weight for my physical and mental health, it is difficult not to stress about how much of my meal plan I spend each day, and whether I will run out before the semester closes.
Looking to the future, I know that eventually, the anxiety I have about such trivial things will cease, and I will take back my life for good. Maybe these challenges are even what I need to push myself out of my comfort zone and fully recover. Learning that it isn’t a big deal to have another plate of food or to eat a dish you might not know all the components of is something many individuals affected by eating disorders have to come to terms with, and I am now confronted with these obstacles. Making spontaneous ice-cream plans with friends, trying a new kind of coffee, eating a cookie just because it tastes good … these are things that should be a normal part of life to enjoy, and I can’t wait for them to become more than anxieties, and truly taste life again.