My name is Em. I am history major, poet, dog owner, and yogi. I am also in recovery from anorexia nervosa.
For as long as I can remember, I struggled with negative body image. Growing up, adults in my life constantly betrayed others for how they looked. Every negative characteristic – selfish, lazy, mean, etc., they contributed to someone’s weight. I was even given a gym membership when I was in the sixth grade. So from a young age, fear of being fat, and all of the supposed negative attributes that brought, was instilled in me.
By the time I arrived as a freshman at William and Mary, my eating disorder had completely taken over my life. I cannot even describe to you a single thing that happened to me the previous year as a senior in high school – the only memories I have are feelings of cold and hunger. I was trapped in a world of intrusive thoughts and completely controlled by the eating disorder. I did not see a way out of the pain – the word recovery was not even in my vocabulary. I was utterly hopeless.
Things continued to worsen until I ended up in the hospital. I was angry, hurt, but above all, absolutely terrified. I was sent to residential treatment completely unwillingly. Because as miserable as my eating disorder made me, it also served a purpose. It communicated the pain I was in without me having to say it out loud, it kept me numb from feeling all of the emotions anxiety and depression brought, and it kept me focused on it instead of all of the uncertainties of learning to become an adult.
It took several attempts at recovery, followed by several relapses, until I went to a residential treatment program that clicked for me. It was there that I realized that others could watch me to make sure I ate and didn’t use behaviors, but they couldn’t get rid of the eating disorder thoughts. I had to want to recover. For so long, I didn’t. I thought people were just getting in the way of my goals until I finally realized that my eating disorder was not about weight or how I looked at all. That is simply a symptom of a greater problem. For me, that greater problem is fear. An intense fear of the unknown. An intense fear of not performing perfectly academically. An intense fear of failure. And it turns out, being skinny solves absolutely none of these problems – a focus on my body served merely as a distraction so that I wouldn’t have to think about what really scares me. And as terrifying as it is to navigate the world without that buffer of protection that my eating disorder provided, it is even more terrifying to think of losing more of my life to that black hole of self-destruction.
Recovery is by far the hardest thing I have ever done. It isn’t fun to examine all that I’ve purposely kept buried for so long. But I’m doing it because I’ve realized that I am worth it. I am worthy of living a rich, full life. I am worthy of facing my fears and conquering them. I am worthy of not giving a damn about some number on a scale. I am worthy of going out for ice cream spontaneously with friends. I am worthy of living a life free of this eating disorder.
If anyone is struggling, please know you are worthy too. Eating disorders are an awful illness that enforce hopelessness. I know because I was once there too. But today I know that my eating disorder is full of shit. There is hope. Each and every one of you are worthy of all of the beauty there is beyond an eating disorder. As hard as it is, recovery is possible. It all begins with asking for help. I would not be where I am today if not for the support of my friends. I strongly encourage anyone struggling to reach out to their loved ones – you are not alone. And above all, recovery is possible. It will be daunting, difficult, and scary, but you are so incredibly worth it.
