I can’t write about my eating disorder. I thought I could. I have been in recovery since 2001. I eat pizza and cake and three meals a day plus snacks. I don’t hate how I look. I don’t wish I was thinner. I like my weight and have stayed within five pound for the past nine years except during my pregnancies and postpartum periods. And I only know my weight because I go for yearly physicals.
I wanted to write about my struggle and triumph over anorexia. Because I think that the worst part of an eating disorder is the isolation. Me and my head and my food and my WILL. Falling asleep in the middle of the day because I don’t have enough calories to stay awake. Counting ribs to calm my anxiety. My pseudo-recovery back then consisted of hiding in stalls on other floors of my college dormitory until the bathroom was empty so I could vomit. The string of therapists and medications and diagnoses. The inpatient treatment facility that kept extending my stay.
I wanted to write about crying during my first yoga class in treatment because connecting my mind and body in a way I had denied for five years was overwhelming. So was giving away my “skinny” clothes a year after finding recovery. I spent days and hours praying to a God I did not understand to help me to eat and love my body until I did. And I have spent my days since then reaching out to others at different points of their recovery to give and get support.
I wanted to write about my immense disappointment in the recovery field for not giving a solid community to the eating disordered. That those who are still active in their disease have more forums to discuss staying sick than those who are well. But I also remember that the only reason I could stay at my treatment facility beyond 30 days was because a lone insurance operator took pity on my story and added my treatment center to their network. Because otherwise the insurance company had not a single inpatient facility covered. That most doctors weigh us and hug us but don’t really know how to help us.
I wanted to write about how disheartened I am by the media’s portrayal of eating disorders as a symptom of a magazine instead of as a disease. My desire for bigger breasts may be a symptom of what sells. My desire to not eat for years until I was so underweight people thought I had cancer. That is not from the magazines. Crossing that line did not make me pretty or trendy. And who saw me? I hardly left my house.
Because when I was in the throes of my disorder, all I wanted was to not feel. To not deal. I hated how much life hurt. And I was looking to stop it. To control it. So I chose my body for my “it.” And I tortured it forgetting that it was my body. I was hurting myself to hurt myself to hurt myself. And sometimes to hurt you. To show you how hard it was to live in all this crazy in my head.
I wanted to write about how I believe that it is easier to blame society for eating disorders than it is to help the eating disordered. We are so frustrating and stubborn and crazy. And while I currently don’t buy the magazines stuffed with stories about how I am not good enough, I could have never made the choice had I not begun eating and living and feeling again.
I believe in changing our society’s warped view of women and of bodies and of health. But I don’t believe that will save a single woman already in the grips of an eating disorder. I pray that the pediatricians and internists and psychiatrists can do that. I pray that the few treatment centers and support groups available can do that. I pray that my story can do that.
Because today I am beautiful and whole. I love the shake of my butt when I dance. I love that my nails grow and my periods are regular. And I love that I rarely sucked in during a photo. Because I can even love the curve of my belly.
I know, deep down in my soul, that the thinner I crave is not even the thinner I see. It is deep and dark. My thinner is about disappearing.
And I want to take up space today. I have things to say and do and feel and write.
I have people to love. I can’t do that if I’m not here.
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My SIL is anorexic. She has a widow’s hump at 50, is always at the dentist because her teeth and gums are so crappy, and is in chronic pain from a pelvic nerve disorder that goes with the whole syndrome.
She refuses to seek help, and her mother, who could have forced her into treatment years ago when it might have actually helped, simply refuses to believe that there’s anything wrong with her. When I tried to force the issue, and make them see, and get her some help, my MIL told me that I was just jealous because her daughter was so much thinner than I was.
So I gave up.
She comes to dinners at my house and pops pill after pill in front of my kids, pushes food around on her plate, and then disappears into the bathroom for half an hour. There are some days when I’m grateful I have only boys.
That is so sad. And makes me unbelievably grateful to be free.
I will say that if she refuses to seek help, it doesn’t matter who talks to her or what treatments she goes to. I met women who were on their EIGHTH treatment center. With no desire to get better. The willingness really must come from within. And who knows what her bottom will be or if she will even hit it before dying.
PS. I’ve had three male friends with eating disorders. Not that I would wish that on your boys but just so you know that it’s not unheard of. And the stigma is so much greater.
i know that putting my 2 cents in may only be worth — well, about 2 cents. but as one who has known you for many years, possibly from before this ever even started, i must say that you have always been both brilliant and beautiful. and now i can add: gutsy!! you go girl.
Thank you Bill. You did know me before it began. And it’s nice to be back to feeling good about myself. YAY!
Is it possible that I could love you more? Your honesty, your courage, the reality you speak of touches my heart, deeply. You have clearly come so far, for that you should be so proud. And for sharing, sharing in a way that is authentic I applaud you.
My sister suffered from an eating disorder for many years. It was warpped up in a lot of troubles, troubles she still battles and that I’m certain I will never fully understand. If she were in a better place I wish she could have a role model like you.
xo
Wow. Thank you for this moving and kind comment. I love you so much too!! I wish that I could help your sister. Sometimes we are so bound up in our many disorders, it’s hard to walk through each one. But it is possible.
Your sister is in my prayers
Great post. Thank you for sharing your experience.
thank you for reading it.
You’re amazing, Alex. An inspiration! Thank you so much for all you do (and have done). Powerfully written!
Thank you for saying that. And for reading and being such a wonderful support
My youngest sister was hospitalized for anorexia when she was 15. It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to watch. I remember her collapsing in tears and refusing to eat at all because the local deli didn’t have fat free mayonaise, waking us up in the middle of the night from the noise of doing jumping jacks for two hours, her hair falling out in clumps, running on the track until she passed out, watching her shrink below 80 pounds, screaming at my mom that she hated her when my parents had to make the tough decision to put her in a hosptial, watching my parents lose almost everything in their fight for her life when insurance stopped paying for treatment.
After months of treatment, she was released, not cured, but in recovery. Even now, 13 years later, we keep a close eye. We listen for “key words”. We watch and we pray that she never puts herself through something like that again.
Speaking as someone who watched a loved one try to commit this sort of suicide, I applaud your bravery and your honesty. And I applaud your recovery. Eating disorders are as much a disease as cancer, eating you from the inside out.
This line gave me the chills: Eating disorders are as much a disease as cancer, eating you from the inside out.
Thank you for sharing your experience. I can’t imagine what this was like for my sister (although at the time I could think of nothing but myself and food and hate). Thank you for giving me a glimpse.
Your sister is in my thoughts.
I know, deep down in my soul, that the thinner I crave is not even the thinner I see. It is deep and dark. My thinner is about disappearing.
And I want to take up space today. I have things to say and do and feel and write.
I have people to love. I can’t do that if I’m not here.
Beautifully put. WE want you here to. All of these comments are just a taste of all the love out there for Alex. :o) The more I get to know you, the more you amaze me…in a good way. ;o)
Thank you Chara. For your kindness and love. It’s awesome to want to be here today!
I’m glad you could not write about your disorder, because I cannot tell you that you are a very courageous person ;)
My sister had mental anorexia when we lived together in college. Seeing her in an institution (where she stayed 2 months) is the closest I’ve been to such a disorder — you are right that the magazines out there aren’t coming close to covering, let alone understanding, the topic.
Thanks for opening up and keeping it real.
Thank you for sharing about your sister. I’m so glad that she got help. It is unbelievably painful to experience whether you are suffering or watching someone suffer. You have great strength, too, to have walked through that with her.
I’ve started about half a dozen comments as my response to your post and I’ve deleted every single one. For some reason, though, I just feel compelled to write something and let you know that in your post I see such bravery and strength. I have struggled with my own inner demons and anorexia–also during my college years. I also am in recovery and am finding it a little harder every day now that my pregnancies are over, my children are growing and I am now getting back to “just me”. But for today, I choose to take up space. I choose to love. And with that, I’m going to (finally) press the “submit” button!
Thank you for pressing the submit button. Trust me, I know how hard that it is. And sometimes you have to take it a day at a time to stay in recovery. It’s hard not to let pieces of me go by just “delay” a meal. But I know where it leads and I can’t be the Alex, mama, wife, friend or anything that I want to be. I know it cuts me off from God too. So I pray and eat. And disregard my thoughts. But somedays are much much easier than others. You are in my thoughts. I’m glad that you are taking up space today. Here’s to many more days!
Thank you for this amazing post. You are a rockstar.
Thank you for reading it. And for calling me a rockstar!
Wow.
and Thank you.
The most important person you have to love…YOU!
Thank you for sharing! My best friend has had anorexia for most of her life. She “got well” during a time when most people, including the medical community, didn’t understand or even know about this disease. I applaude your honesty and willingness to put it out there. The world needs to know!
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