NEDA

In honor of NEDA week, I'm going to share my "ED" essay.

"Ed" = eating disorder

 I wrote this essay on how and why I developed an eating disorder. I hope this brings some awareness about how an eating disorder doesn’t discriminate between men and women, black or white. 

Disclaimer: To whomever does read this, thanks for sitting through it. You are a rad soul.

I still remember the very first time I restricted my food. I was eight years old and I was on a summer swim team in Vegas. I remember just staring at myself in the mirror in my swimsuit and trying to push my hands on my stomach to flatten it and grabbing all the fat I thought I saw. I made a decision that that night I would not eat so in the morning at my swim meet I would look thinner. So that night, I didn’t eat, and the next morning my eight-year-old self would swear to you that I did in fact look thinner. And that’s when my battle with anorexia and bulimia began.

I really didn't understand how big of an impact my “ed” would have or could do until my eighth grade year. Until that point I used my “ed” to cope with bullying and some traumatic experiences that happened to me during middle school. Every time I had anxiety, I would act on eating disorder behaviors. Any time I felt disgusting, worthless, unlovable, I acted on my eating disorder. After 8th grade year I began to gain weight after swim season and saw that I wasn't fitting into my pants anymore. I tried a bunch of different ways to restrict my food since the fourth grade and this really stressed me out and it was all I thought about. I decided to do something extra to make sure I lost the weight. So one day I just tried making myself throw up. It worked. When I realized it worked and on the scale the next day I dropped a pound, I was ecstatic. It’s like I found this new way to not be worthless and to not be disgusting. I felt like I found this secret ingredient that would numb me from the bad things that happened to me and that I would finally be worthy of love.

Then a vicious cycle began all throughout my freshman to junior year of high school. I would restrict my food, then binge, then purge, and then repeat. I was in a super unhealthy relationship with a boy and with certain friends. My eating disorder was literally all I thought about 24/7. I remember getting anxiety the night before the next day because I didn’t know how I was going to eat. I would map out how I would go to the bathroom before each class and how to skip the food at student council activities. One of my favorite teachers was constantly worried about me and kept asking what he could do to help. But I told him nothing. I felt like someone was constantly following me and shouting, “you’re disgusting. Shut your mouth. You’re worthless. Please that person. You’re fat. No one will ever love you.” My parents saw how bad it was becoming and in my freshman year tried to put me in therapy, but I just didn’t like it and kept telling them I had it under control. I was manipulative.

Then the summer before my senior year I gained over fifteen pounds and I freaked out even more. I began purging again even more, but I noticed that my weight was staying the same. I then began to restrict in extreme amounts and I then was finally getting the results I wanted. Between that and running over five miles everyday, I was going from a size 4 to a size 2 to a size 0. People began to recognize me, boys in particular. I was getting complimented left and right for whatever "diet" I was on. People finally wanted to talk to ME. My eating disorder gave me a false sense of confidence by giving me the idea that if I stayed skinny, more boys would like me. My peers would finally accept me. And that I would finally be lovable.

Clothes began to look a lot better on me, I was a smaller size then my best friend and I was smaller than my sister. My sister was always tinier then me my whole entire life. I had this false sense of elation that I was better because I was thinner. I had a "friend" who stuck by me whenever I was sad or lonely. "Ed" would help me and understand the issues I was going through. If I were feeling fat he would help me learn how to drop five pounds a lot faster this time around. He knew what would make me "happy" and he wouldn't let me go. I didn't want him to go, he was helping me to become what I've always wanted to be, lovable.

I was a "people pleaser". I couldn’t stand it if someone didn’t like me and I couldn’t say no to anyone's requests. I just wanted to fit in and with my eating disorder I felt like I was achieving that goal.

I really didn't see any consequences from my eating disorder until my junior year of high school. When I went to see the doctor she said I could have problems getting pregnant or ever being able to have a child at all. I would have thought that this would have been a wake up call for me, but apparently not until much later. I realized that my eating disorder did come with consequences, but I didn't care. I started caring my senior year in high school, when I entered the Center for Change the first time. I tried so hard to get over this, but to be completely honest I didn’t want to let it go. I realized that it would take years before this awful mentality I had would leave.

One consequence freaked me out. I love to perform. I love to perform on stage in musicals and sing. I have taken voice lessons for years and have loved it. My senior year I participated in the musical "Grease" and played the part of "Rizzo", a lead. This is actually when I was in the deepest of my eating disorder. One day when I was purging, I cut my throat and it started bleeding a day before we opened. I wasn't able to sing at all. I was freaking out, not knowing what to do, I vowed I wouldn't purge again or until after the musical was done. It scared me, but I didn't want to let "ed" go. I had so many other physical consequences from "ed", like losing my hair, my skin getting worse. I finally realized my freshman year of college that the bad most definitely outweighed the good when it came to my "friend". I didn’t want it to happen to me anymore.

The more I began to be in my eating disorder, the more my self-esteem plummeted to the ground. One of my main vices is comparing myself to others. At first, I would compare my body to those close around me, especially my best friend and older sister. Not really anyone else. As I got closer to "ed" I realized that my body wasn't good enough and I began comparing my body to any girl that walked through the door. If she were smaller than me my confidence would go down, but if she was bigger than me I would feel better about myself. I didn't care about anyone else. No one else mattered. I thought that once I reached my goal weight everything would fall into place, but it didn't. I still wasn't good enough and I was too selfish to go and reach out for help because I didn't think I needed it

I remember that the ONLY time I ever felt peace of mind and no negative thoughts would be when I was on my knees in prayer to my Father in Heaven and when I was reading my scriptures. So constantly from middle school on, I was praying and reading my scriptures. He was there and He was listening. He was sending angels on my right and my left to bear me up, but I sometimes I was so into my “ed” that I couldn’t even see it. I didn't see my self worth through His eyes; I saw it through my eating disorder's eyes. It came to a point that when I would go to church, I would just feel worse about myself. I think I compared myself more there, then anywhere else. There was always someone better than me. Better life, better clothes, better attitude, better smile, and a better body. I envied each and every single girl. Church became a prison for me of constantly comparing. People would come up to me and say "where did that light go?" or "whatever you're doing, stop it". I would get annoyed and then beat myself up because I knew that they were right. I came to a point where I felt empty. I felt alone but for some reason I kept reading and praying. I kept developing my faith in Christ and knowing that one-day I would recover.

Nobody would ever confront if there were something wrong. I was super involved in school and had a great group of friends. I would put on my fake mask and make jokes. Humor was a cover up. When people would find out they would say, "No way, you're too funny to be sick like that or too happy." I began to lie to everyone around me, to my parents, sisters, and friends. Everyone around me began to disappear. Nobody wanted to deal with me because they didn't know that what was coming out of my mouth was the truth or just I pushing them aside. I wasn't at peace with myself mentally or emotionally. My only friend became "ED". I depended on him, he was, at least I thought he was, the one only one that stayed by my side. I was best friends with him. On the weekends I would just stay home and lay in bed all day, hoping that I wouldn't have to eat. When I came up to Utah for school, I became even more distant from all my friends back home. I wouldn't return my parents phone calls or any of my friends. My friends drove up through Provo and wanted to see me, but I wouldn't answer. The people who truly made me laugh and I felt most comfortable around, I wouldn't give them the time of day. My grandpa, a couple days before he passed away, wanted to see me, but I wouldn't answer the phone. This hurt me the worst. How could I be so horrible that I wouldn't even see my grandpa? Instead the last time I got to see him, he was in a wooden casket, eyes closed, with nothing left in him. That is when I decided that that would be the LAST thing that "ed" would take away from me. I didn't have any good relationships, I was scared of food, I was afraid of people, I was afraid of many things. I realized that my eating disorder had taken so much from me, different experiences that I will never, ever get back, but by getting rid of it I could become everything I have wanted to be. It makes me so mad that I let myself get that far, but I finally took a stand. "ED" is no longer take things from me because I “broke-up” with him.

In October of 2010 I entered the Center for Change in Provo, Utah. And for four and a half months I was a full-time patient. I then went back to Vegas to live with my parents to continue my recovery. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. Each day I had to take it moment by moment or else I would crumble. But through it all I gained a stronger relationship with my Father in Heaven and His Son. I saw His children the way He did. I began to see myself as He did. I have been eating disorder behavior free since July 5th 2011. I remember in December of 2012, I was in a super good place, and I began crying in my best friend, Katie’s, car. My eating disorder was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting and it was something I fought since I was 8, but at that moment I recognized that through it all, I had been blessed WAY more than I had been tried. I realized that God and His Son carried me through. Because of my “ed” I was refined into someone that God could use as His instrument. Because of “ed” I was able to serve a mission and truly know and testify to those around me that God loved them through their trials because I had felt it for myself.

An “ed” isn’t something someone can get through in a month or a year. Those were dark years but there was light because of God and His tender mercies.

I know that if it wasn't for my family and their constant love and care, I would not be where I am today. My parents loved me through it and were able to get me the help I needed. My sisters, even though I was a struggle, still loved me and wanted to help. I'll never be able to repay them and I constantly thank God for them. I am thankful that Cate was with me my freshman year when I went back into treatment. Without her, I wouldn't be where I am either. An eating disorder, no matter which one it is, is a mental illness that continually needs to be addressed. Not everyone had the same resources I did and I know that through awareness, others too can have the opportunity to recover.

#recovery #NEDAawareness