The first time food became my enemy I was barely 10 years old, living in a state of limbo between permanent homes and feeling like I was just a stranger to everyone I met. When my parents and I left Ohio in the middle of the Great Recession, I was excited by the prospect of starting fresh and living in a place that I felt was simply better than anywhere I’d been before, but I was neither able to anticipate nor cope with the transition and all it would mean.
Before our final destination in Northern Virginia, my family had something of an extended layover living in Maryland so that I could finish out the school year there and have more stability. However, the downside of moving into a school in April only to leave again — and certainly never return — in June was feeling like just a name on an attendance sheet and a seat that was suddenly filled. This wasn’t the fault of my classmates, teachers or parents, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being expendable and pointless in my new environment and I also couldn’t find the words to communicate this with anyone around me.
After this new feeling took up residence with me, I became hyper-aware of everything that I was doing and how my classmates would perceive it. This included everything from the tone of my voice to the clothes I chose to wear and the food that I ate. I’d never been really conscious of what I ate– as a kid, you shouldn’t have to be– just that I was getting what I needed and wasn’t hungry. However, now I suddenly felt like I was eating too much or eating the wrong things and I started eating less and less at school, even throwing portions of my lunch in the trash because I couldn’t bear to keep going. When I was at home this wasn’t a problem, but at school I couldn’t seem to forget about it.
I wasn’t at all aware that I had a problem and I didn’t question my new habits. Now they were a part of who I was, just as much as my name or who my family was. I carried it with me throughout my time in Maryland, then straight into Northern Virginia and (yet another) new school. As someone who had been displaced by economic hardship — like so many families during this time — and suddenly found herself in one of the only areas that was largely untouched by the recession, I did experience some culture shock, but I found that I loved the school I was in and the people I was meeting. I didn’t feel quite as expendable at this school after I quickly made friends and put down roots, but my eating habits were largely unaffected by my change in mindset.
Eventually, my mom caught onto my games (as moms always do) and she wasn’t willing to let me keep on the way I had been. After years of work, a few relapses (that I largely kept quiet about, of course) and many hours spent just searching for flaws, I had — foolishly — thought I was on the other side and it wouldn’t be a problem. For years I continued as though the problem never existed at all, and slowly I found myself slipping back to counting every calorie and carefully figuring out how I could lose just a little more weight and finally be happy with myself. As an extremely stubborn person, I refused to recognize these problems and do anything to remedy the situation, or even just tell someone about it because I couldn’t figure out how to let anyone in or be vulnerable with them. I loved being there for my friends and made making sure that they knew I would always listen to them, but I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone do the same for me.
Related: How I Conquered My Eating Disorder In College
Old habits die hard, and they die even harder when paired with the irrational and all-too stubborn refusal to call a spade a spade. As I made the transition into college and attempted to find my stride, the old habits I’d kept on the backburner for the last 5 years — for the most part, mind you — started to rear their ugly heads again. Without a set lunch time, I would find myself working straight through my three hour long gap in classes and being grateful for it rather than disappointed in myself. The more I saw this happening, the more I began to realize that this problem goes beyond eating just a granola bar for lunch and counting my calories when I didn’t need to. It was an eating disorder. I was forced to recognize that my all-encompassing desire to have the perfect grades, the perfect relationship, the perfect friendships and the perfect body was manifesting itself into something that wasn’t just damaging to my mental health, it was having a tangible impact on my physical health as well.
However, owning this didn’t come without roadblocks and speed bumps. I can’t possibly express what it felt like to trust someone else with these parts of me that I’d worked so hard to keep close to my chest for the better part of a decade and to have them turn around and make me feel like my feelings weren’t valid. It took a lot of introspection to realize that it wasn’t me that caused this, it was them. They were the ones who were incapable of having compassion and concern for someone they were supposed to love, I wasn’t a burden for having the audacity to be open and honest with them. Once I finally could wrap my head around this and began telling those close to me, I was shocked to see how those who truly cared about me were willing to be a constant source of love, encouragement and support in the moments that I truly needed it.
The one thing I’ve learned from facing the music (even if it was long overdue) is that it will never truly go away. I can never wave a magic wand, call myself cured and never have to worry again, this will always be a part of who I am. However, it doesn’t have to control me. I don’t have to hang my head in shame or refuse to confide in my friends when I’m struggling; they didn’t just sign up to be friends with the person that laughs and smiles easily, they signed up to be friends with every side of me. Food doesn’t have to be my enemy. Most importantly, I’ve learned that while this is a part of me and my story that I can’t erase, it does not define me. It doesn’t have to be a weakness that I haven’t managed to have a healthy relationship with it for the better part of the last decade, I can turn it into a strength and a reminder that I am stronger than I might have thought. I don’t have to let it be a limiting factor in my life and determine what I can achieve. I am the only person who can determine the place that it has in my life. I am the only person who can give it power.
Related: I Discovered That Eating Disorder Recovery is Possible
As much as my eating disorder will always be a part of me, that doesn’t mean I can never recover from it. By letting people in and allowing myself to share when I’m struggling, it gives me the tools to turn this mindset into more than just an epiphany. While no friend, family member or therapist can truly convince you to heal yourself, that doesn’t mean they can’t be there to listen, watch and tell it like it is. Beyond just my personal circle, by acknowledging that there is never going to be any shame in not being perfect, it makes it considerably easier to take advantage of the plentiful resources that are at all of our fingertips.
I’m done letting something that I can’t control keep any more power over me, and I hope none of you will either. There is no such thing as perfection, and there’s no shame in letting the people around us see that. The road to recovery is a long one, but it doesn’t have to be a lonely one.