I feel this post is appropriate, seeing as it's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week.
What most people don't know is that I've personally struggled with an eating disorder.
It's not something I usually share with people. It's not on my list of fun facts when introducing myself. Can you imagine..."Hello, my name is Emily and I had an eating disorder". That's a sure way to make people feel uncomfortable. It happened though and while it doesn't define me or the kind of person I am, it was a part of my life. It's something that if I'm not careful, always has a possibility of coming back.
Over the last few weeks I've had this realization that it's okay to share personal struggles with others. For some people they'll be able to relate because they too have been in your shoes. For some, they get to learn about something they may know nothing about. We usually hear about struggles like this when celebrities come out and share their stories. It's different though when you actually know the person. You realize just how real these diseases are. That's exactly what an eating disorder is...a disease.
So, here is my story...
I was a freshman in college and life was anything but grand. It just felt like things were piling up on my plate. I was struggling in all my classes even though I was studying and doing schoolwork 24/7. It was eye opening because I'd been an A-B student my entire life. I couldn't understand why now I was struggling to even hold C's. I'd been in a serious relationship and it came to an end shortly after Valentine's Day. Not only did I lose my boyfriend but also a best friend. And to top it off, a girl from my past decided it was time to start bullying me once again. I was stressed. I was overwhelmed. They say your college years are the best years of your life. It felt like the complete opposite for me. I felt I couldn't control anything that was going on so I found something I could.
I could control how much I ate.
I starved myself. I wouldn't eat anything. In fact, I don't think I ate anything for a solid two weeks. I'd drink water here and there but that was about it. I remember being home one weekend and we were prepping our camper to be sold. I laid down on one of the beds and almost passed out because my sugar was so low. My mom shoved applesauce down my throat so that something would be in my stomach. My parents threatened me that if I didn't start eating they'd take me to the hospital. Since I refused to go to the hospital, because that would mean getting help, I started eating a little. Meals consisted of a handful of cheerios. My body rejected them at first. I hadn't had anything for so long that I got sick without even trying. After continually giving myself cheerios for a bit though, my body finally accepted them. It was then that I made myself puke for the first time. I guess I thought that I had lost control again of how much I could eat. So if I was going to be forced to eat, I could at least control this afterwards. Things stayed like this for a few weeks. It was a mixture of starving myself when no one could tell me not to, to getting rid of what I ate shortly after. I knew my parents were aware something was going on. My roommate too. They never intruded though. You can't push people when they're like this because it would have only made things worse. I had to want to help myself in order for things to change and improve.
That day came sooner than I ever thought it would.
I had been in class and it was time for me to walk back to my dorm. I barely made it out of Gore Hall before I felt like I was going to pass out. Luckily my mom worked on campus so I called her and asked for a ride, saying I was sick and too weak to walk. The car ride was silent. Neither one of us talked. I knew she wanted to say something but how can you when you don't want to send me into an even farther downward spiral. I was too stubborn to admit what was going on. By the time we got to my dorm though, I'd scared myself enough to know I needed help. I remember vividly just turning to her and saying, "Mom, I need help. I'm not okay. I haven't been okay for quite a while".
She took me to the school's medical center and they filled me with Gatorade so my sugar levels would increase. After my vitals improved I was taken over to the counseling department. There I met Dr. Hollingsworth. For at least 2 weeks I met with her almost daily. We talked about everything that had been going on in my life and why this was the path I chose to take. You feel crazy at first seeing a counselor but it was honestly the best thing that could have happened.
I stopped my eating disorder cold turkey. Something is different once people know for sure what you're doing. You feel ashamed and embarrassed. There was no way I could continue now that it was out in the open. I didn't eat huge meals at first but that was because my body had to adjust to having them again. My mental state of mind improved over time as well. I worked on myself. I learned how to cope and focus on the good things in life that I could control. When I started the road to recovery my doctor described that the time would feel like a roller coaster. You'd have good days and you'd have bad ones. They'd start off extreme and frequent. But, the longer I'd ride the ride, then the less extreme everything would feel. Eventually it'd all even out. Her analogy was spot on.
I had a support system around me that I will never be able to thank enough. My parents were amazing. I'd scared the living daylights out of them but they cheered me on more than anyone as I recovered. Through counseling I found a way to share with them my struggles at school. We found that more was going on than we knew and I needed to get tested for ADD. My best friend and roommate was my rock. Every day she helped me to get up and face the world. She never looked at me differently or judged. She was amazing for having only known me for 8 months. She helped me to have fun and let go every once in a while. We worked on school together. She promised to be by my side through it all. I can say that 6 years later that still holds true. She's been there for me through every good thing and bad thing that has occurred since we met. She is my best friend.
While I haven't had a relapse since, it doesn't mean it isn't possible. I often have to keep myself in check when I get extremely overwhelmed or stressed. It's the easiest to go back to things like this during those times. There are also certain things that I cannot do. When some people don't feel well, they know they just have to make themselves puke so it gets out of their system. This is something I can never do. While it has good intentions, it could still be a trigger. I'm not willing to take the risk to find out if it is one or not.
If you find out someone is struggling with something like this, don't judge them. You never know what it is that has pushed them over the edge to be at this point. We live in a world where image is everything. You have to be a certain size or a certain shape. What's really important is that we love ourselves the way that we are. It's important to be healthy, both physically and mentally.
To anyone who is going through something like this currently, You're not alone. There are people who have been exactly where you are. They know how you feel and what you're experiencing. There's help out there, you just have to ask for it. No one would have predicted that I'd be the one to suffer from something like this, but it happened. It can happen to anyone.
