I have struggled with an eating disorder for as long as I can remember. It was something I hid for a long time. Now, I am open and honest about it in the hopes of helping others. It stinks to feel like we are alone in our struggles. Knowing that others can relate and offer support is huge. Sharing my story makes me vulnerable, but I've learned that I'm okay with that. If I can help one person, then sharing is worth it.
My eating disorder took hold of me in college. I became obsessed with my weight and clothes size. I carried around a huge bag of insecurity that reared its raging ugly head in the form of unworthy issues. I felt so out of control of myself and emotions.
I suffered greatly from abandonment and rejection issues. I grew up with various forms of abuse that wreaked havoc on my mental status. Mental health was not discussed then and, in fact, was a taboo subject. If one struggled, they were looked upon as weak. As you can imagine, this compounded my mental health. I felt like such a failure in so many ways. My biological father wanted nothing to do with me, my brother and I were separated at a very young age, I was never a priority for my mother, I was always told my name was mud spelled backwards, and I had fallen into the act of giving my body to anyone who claimed they loved me.
It's funny, not ha-ha funny, but peculiar funny - those I went to school with never guessed how sad I often was. I always put on a shiny, happy face and pretended all was great. I was so afraid people would truly know me and think the same way about me as my parents did.
In college, I began to skip meals. I stocked up on oranges and popcorn and tried to satisfy my need for nourishment with these items. I was always left feeling like a failure because at the end of the day, I was ravishingly hungry and would eat all I could get my hands on.
My worth was tied to my outer appearance. If I was thin, I felt in control. I couldn't control my feelings of self-loathing, but I could control my food intake and body. In truth, it felt good to be super thin. In my skewed thinking, I was in control of myself finally. I received many comments and compliments on my thin physique.
To deny oneself the fuel of nourishment only fuels an eating disorder.
At a college graduation party, there was a scrapbook of my school days. There were many pictures of me in my dance team uniforms. A now family member was looking through the scrapbook and commented on a particular picture. I can clearly see the picture in my head as I type this. I was standing with two other dance team members in a navy blue outfit. It had bright pink sequins and I had a bright pink sequins barrette in my hair. The now family member pointed at my hips and thighs in the picture and responded, "You were heavy here! You've lost weight and look so much better now." Ouch. I still get a physical response when I think upon this. I felt like crawling under the carpet and hiding away.
That's the thing with commenting on a person's body. One thinks they are giving a compliment but, in truth, they are connecting worth to bodies. Sadly, it happens all the time. It's perfectly fine to comment on an outfit, hairstyle, etc. But when comments are made regarding a person's size, it's harmful.
Think about this comment that is made often to people - "You look so good! Have you lost weight?" It implies that one looked bad before. That certainly is usually not the intent of the one making the comment, but that is often how it makes the receiver feel.
Once graduating college, I worked in a law firm in the heart of downtown Houston. I met a woman there who I became friends with. She was older than me, but we really connected. We ate lunch together, worked out at a local gym during our lunch break on certain days, went out with our significant others on weekends, and so on. She taught me the art of taking laxatives. I could eat what I wanted and get rid of it the next day. I began to lose more weight with this practice and, sadly, I loved it. I got down to 104 pounds.
I continued this practice into my marriage. I kept it from my husband, as I was embarrassed to admit it and, well, embarrassed of discussing bathroom practices. Within a few months of being married, I became pregnant. Upon finding out I was pregnant, I gave up the art of using laxatives. I turned to writing down every single thing I put into my mouth. I logged protein intake, calcium intake, and so on. I was determined to not gain too much weight.
In the end, I gained 27 pounds. I was secretly mad at myself because my limit had been 25 pounds.
When our child was 3 months old, he was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect. Guilt. Shame. I was certain it was because I took laxatives prior to knowing I was pregnant. I felt that I had depleted my body of nutrients and, thus, my baby wasn't able to grow properly. I spoke with his cardiologist about my concerns and he tried to reassure me that it was not my fault. He tried to convince me that it is not known why some defects occur, but it surely wasn't anything I did. I didn't believe him. I felt like such a failure as a mother.
My eating disorder continued on and I found myself thinking about food intake all day. I counted calories in my head and jabbed my body all day. This continued for many years. I never returned to laxatives. I began denying myself food and stepping on the scale often throughout the day. I chastised myself for every pound shown on the scale.
Sadly, I began noticing that I had unintentionally exposed my daughter to my disorder. My comments about my food intake, feeling fat, etc. had attached themselves to her. She began mimicking her mother. I was horrified. Her adoption of my painfully unhealthy mindset and practices was gut wrenching. In those moments, I saw the truth of my thinking and the effects it had on those around me.
I began to have open conversations with her about my skewed thinking and acknowledged my eating disorder. I started reading all I could about body image issues, eating disorders, and childhood abuse. I needed healing, not just for myself, but for my children. They needed a healthy mama who would teach them appropriate relationships with eating and mindset.
It was difficult. In truth, I still struggle. Prior to eating something, I often find myself thinking about it. It is a never ending struggle, but one I'm willing to fight for myself, my family, and those around me.
I have learned, and am learning, that what we put in our bodies is fuel. It sustains us, gives us energy, helps our minds stay focused, and provides us with essential nutrients for healing and health.
As I contemplated sharing my story, I rolled around the idea of sharing what I've learned about calories, protein, my plant based diet, and proper consumption practices. I decided not to add those things. I don't want eating to be legalistic for anyone. Our bodies are amazing machines. They tell us what they need. When we are hungry, we should eat. When we crave it, eat it. Denying ourselves food is not healthy or vital to sustaining a healthy body and mind.
I have learned many important things along my journey. One is so near to my heart that I find it of the utmost importance to share.
What we see on social media, magazines, and TV is not real. People often use filters and photoshop pictures. We can't compare and seek to be like fake pictures. It will never happen. I am 51, approaching 52, and I have wisdom lines (wrinkles!) on my face, cellulite on parts of my legs, sagging skin in areas that used to be so tight. And that is okay!!
I have found that true health and beauty comes from within. When our minds are healthy and void of worldly clutter and comparison, we feel good.
Moving my body helps my mindset. Running has taught me that I am strong. It has also taught me to eat. If I don't eat properly, I don't run properly. Running is not about the look of my body, but the feel of my heart and mind. It brings me peace and joy.
If you struggle with food, please reach out to me or someone. You are not alone. I will gladly help and talk with anyone who needs guidance, encouragement, or an ear to vent to.
With great love and admiration for all my fellow sojourners,
Marci
