I have an eating disorder. I have had eating disorders multiple times over the last decade or so of my life. It started in middle school. I hated my body from the time I was 11 or 12. I have always been curvy and as such, I was thicker than the other girls. I couldn’t stand being “fat.” It was only the beginning. My self-hate had many years of growth ahead still. Even now, it’s a daily battle to stop the hate.
The first time I had a disorder, I would refuse to eat certain foods and if other foods were unavailable, I would not eat. Some days, I wouldn’t eat until I got home after 6 in the evening, after having worked out 3 times that day. This happened a few times in middle school, but always for short periods of time because my older sister was obnoxiously good at noticing my habits. I was always active, playing sports year round and spending much of my free time riding my bike. But it made no difference. I never got any skinnier, no matter how much I avoided eating or how many calories I burned. The only thing that ever changed was my perception of myself. I looked uglier every time I glanced in the mirror. Clothes stopped looking good on me. There was even a period where I didn’t want my husband to see me naked. It didn’t matter what others told me. It only mattered what I told myself. I said I was ugly. I said I was fat. I said I couldn’t possibly be attractive. When my husband grabs me, I wince. No, he isn’t abusing me. (I’m abusing me.) It just reminds me of my “problem areas” which is like every area, or so I’ve thought.
I have been literally, physically repulsed by food because it would only lead me to thinking about how fat I am and how good has made me that way. If I felt uneasy after eating, I’d make myself throw up right after. That was one of my eating disorders. I had to find a way to make myself get some kind of nutrients. I made myself Mexican hot chocolate on the stove every night one semester and called that dinner. It was the only way I knew I could get myself some protein and other stuff that milk is good for. This may have been the longest lasting disorder, and after I beat it, it came back again and again. It is the first time I recognized that my relationship with food was unhealthy. I’d had multiple therapists ask but I’d thought food and I were fine. I’d done such a good job of lying to myself that I really truly believed it. This wasn’t the first disorder and it wouldn’t be the last.
This was an early point in my journey. I was only just beginning to see that I saw myself as a problem. I have always carried myself confidently, and it convinces not only myself but also everyone around me that I love me. But it’s a lie. I have hated my guts since I was a kid. Adolescence made it worse, and the life inside my head only found reasons to continue to destroy myself. Even now, at 25, I struggle with counting my calories and restricting and purging (with or without a binge) and criticizing my reflection and deciding not to go to events because I feel THAT self-conscious in every single outfit I pick out and crying because of it all.
