Life With an Eating Disorder

It all started with a pat on my stomach. A moment I talk about in my upcoming memoir. My ex patted my stomach and told me I was getting fat. Naturally, I was horrified. I never wanted to experience that moment, or anything like it, again so I worked my ass off (literally) to be as thin as possible.

Thus began my journey to becoming anorexic. 

Slowly and secretly, I became obsessed with counting calories, exercising, and seeing how long I could last without eating. It felt impossible to go one day without exercising; I needed to burn more calories. I felt guilty if I indulged in too much food. I felt guilty if I gained any weight.

Years into living with anorexia — and not realizing it — I took a picture of myself 50lbs lighter than I am today for a “before” shot. I was convinced I needed to lose at least 20 more pounds. I needed a flatter stomach. I needed less fat everywhere. I was convinced my arms and legs were jiggly; they weren’t.

The month after I left my ex — as a mere shell of a person both physically and emotionally — I acknowledged for the first time that I had indeed been struggling with anorexia. An eating disorder that has the highest mortality rate, either because of the illness or because of suicide. At the time I was also suicidal, but I attributed that to being in an abusive relationship. It was all connected.

I had been so proud of my ability to lose weight and keep it off. It was hard to accept that what I was doing was something that could kill me.

Since my eyes were opened to what was going on, I didn’t like what I saw. I felt powerless and helpless to change it. Unknowingly, I had built habits and thoughts and my life around anorexia.

I started to pray. I begged God to heal me and take away my desire to be stick-thin. I asked him to help me see what was really in front of me, instead of the distorted view I had seen in the mirror for so many years.

And you know what? He did. As I prayed, I felt free. A burden was lifted off my shoulders. God doesn’t always heal like that, but for me, it happened during that prayer. I still had to sort through the negative thoughts and dismantle my bad habits. But the oppressing darkness of the Eating Disorder (or ED as some call it) stopped that day. ED, the nasty, impulsive, liar disappeared.

It’s been four years since anorexia stopped controlling my life.

I allowed myself to gain weight. I went a whole year without exercising to break my unhealthy association with exercise and weight loss. I went two years without weighing myself. I’ve since slowly added exercise back into my life. Not to lose weight this time, but to be healthy. I only weigh myself when I am in a good place and I know I can handle any number I see.

The problem I experience now is that I’m really good at going long periods of time without eating, without even noticing. I taught myself to ignore hunger pains and I’m still excellent at doing this. Thankfully, I have a husband who makes sure I eat food and gently reminds me to take care of myself. (My Mom is also good at this when I am around her. #Enneagram2s) 

There have been times recently when I see me — with my postpartum face — and I have to remind myself how to do positive self-talk. Yes, I do have a double chin and that is okay. So does my 3-month-old daughter and she is beautiful. I remind myself that being critical of my body won’t make me a better person. And that skinny doesn’t make me more valuable or likable. Then, I do my best not to criticize the person I see in the mirror.

So of course, there are days I still have to work to not succumb to the thought patterns that sought to destroy me through destroying my body, as I try to stop myself from thinking or talking about my weight. It’s a process to deprogram and I’m still learning.

There is a part of me that will likely always battle having an eating disorder. But thankfully, the unrelenting voice of ED doesn’t plague me anymore.

I am healthy and happy. I am loved and valued. I don’t need to be thin to be any of those things like my ex drilled into my head. I can live free of those lies and love the me that I am today.