Drag Me Down
I haven't had a problem talking about my eating disorder in the past. I will openly discuss it with students who are even thinking about going down the dangerous path. However, I have been dealing with, what I refer to as, the "voices". They come in at every meal some days. It sounds crazy, but they really infiltrate your thoughts. So, today, I share my story of anorexia.
The teasing had been going on since the start of school. Then, two months in, I heard one of my cousins make fun of my weight to his friends. That moment was the first conscious decision I had made about my weight. I was a tennis player, basketball manager, in marching band...it wasn't like I wasn't active. During the summers, I participated in three different tennis camps throughout the day and played softball. Seriously, some of my weight was still just baby weight that stubbornly refused to go away and began settling in the designated locations that the Sears genetics preferred. Some of it was muscle. It didn't, however, stop people from teasing me in the halls of GCHS...nor did it stop my own cousin from making fun of me by his truck that day. That day I decided I was going to do better and get rid of the fat somehow.
I didn't go into the next day thinking I was going to skip meals. I wasn't ever a breakfast person once I got out of elementary school and it wasn't forced in front of me. So I rarely ate anything prior to leaving for school. I took granola bars for a pre-practice snack. I ate lunch out with friends every day, as it was too much of a hassle to have my cousin take me home at lunch. That day though, it changed. I went to lunch with friends, as usual. That day was our Long John Silver's day (we had a routine of what was within walking distance since none of us could drive yet). I walked in and lied to my friends. I sat in a booth in the side room. When they asked why I wasn't eating, I flat out said I had eaten a big breakfast and just wasn't quite hungry yet, but had brought a sandwich for my snack before practice. I lied. There was no big breakfast, let alone a small one. There was no sandwich in my backpack - it was my usual granola bar. It started that day...the day I let control become more important than health.
It only got worse from that point on. I began skipping more lunches, occasionally opting to get something entirely too small to be considered a full meal, which was only used to appease the staring eyes of friends. I also began skipping supper. I'd sit and stare, claiming I wasn't hungry or ate a big lunch. I'd disappear to the bathroom, not to purge my already empty stomach, but to stare at my reflection...switching from side view to other side view...pushing "fat" out of the way. My mom knew something was wrong, but I had gotten good at lying about my eating habits and about pushing enough food around to look like I had eaten enough, so she didn't know how to approach me beyond trying the way she did. I shut off. I knew they couldn't know. If they found out, I wouldn't be in control and I'd get fat and I'd get teased. Within a few months, my almost-200 pound frame was down to 130. I hid it the best I could with baggy sweatshirts, but it was obvious to everyone but me. I still saw the fat girl who heard family make fun of me...not the unhealthy girl.
After an away basketball game, where I had thrown away more than 3/4 of a burger from Sonic rather than eating it, I got off the bus and almost fainted into my Dad's car. It was then that action was instigated. It took a few months of building up to full-meal eating because I refused to go to a treatment center, opting to be outpatient with my doctor and a psychologist. By the end of the summer before my sophomore year started, I was back up to 185 pounds.
It was in those learning months that I discovered I could watch what I ate, just not skip out. I needed food; it is fuel. With each passing year, I would lose on average 10 pounds. By the start of my senior year, I was 145 pounds. Though I had learned healthy habits, the negative thoughts never left. Skip lunch. It'll help you lose that next five pounds. Come on. No one will notice once in a while. Those were easy to brush off. The you're still fat, ugly, gross comments that bombarded me sometimes were not as easy to brush off.
I started dating a freshman from the community college my final semester of high school. He was charming and had me convinced that I was beautiful and healthy. Years later, I would learn that that charm was his way of learning my inner thoughts to use against me for the duration of our relationship. As high school ended and college at GC3 began, I was down to 135 pounds. Now, today, I would give anything to be at that weight...it's my ultimate goal. Then, not so much...it was still too big. Comments of "you should have legs like that" or "why can't your butt look that way" came from the person I thought loved me. I didn't listen to friends. I didn't listen to family. He was my world; I was his puppet.
In the four years that we were together, I lost more weight and maintained it at 113 pounds. It. still. wasn't. good. enough. Comments kept coming. He'd go party with his friends and never call when they were home like he promised. He'd come over and expect me to cook, clean, and do his laundry. I bought the insane amount of electronics that covered his dorm room. And in all of that, I didn't eat a lot. I'd eat little bits just to suffice my gurgling tummy and make everyone think I was eating. Four years of that life...
Then something bad happened that caused us to end our relationship. That "something bad" was somewhat of a blessing in disguise. I moved home and sought therapy to cope with the life I thought I still wanted and needed. I moved home and sought help to eat again. In time, I would slowly gain weight back and get accused of being pregnant.
As time kept moving on, though there were numerous dates with guys who thought I was attractive and, of course, finding Brandon who tells me daily how beautiful I am, I kept gaining weight. I turned from controlling every iota of food I put into my mouth into an emotional basket case who uses food to feed the impending emotions I don't want to talk about...or the boredom I haven't filled with food rather than activity.
Honestly, I've been battling those voices again recently. They appear quite frequently when I'm trying to begin a new routine and healthier habits. Hence why I have failed so much in the past with losing weight. I'm not going to lie and say that I don't let the thoughts in and I've come to the point of fighting them off easily. It's not easy. Some days it is tough to fight through. I don't succumb to them, I won't ever do that again. But it's tough. Yesterday was one of those days that I battled throughout the day. I had a lot of emotions I was dealing with throughout the day - ones that I will eventually write about. I didn't go home and find every bad thing to eat that we still have in the house. I didn't go home and lay around. I went home and chose to start a new routine to keep me moving in times like that. I cleaned. I did dishes. I fixed supper. I helped Brandon mow when he got home. I didn't sit down until 8. I couldn't. It was too easy to sit and crave every bad food known to man. In fact, when I sat down at 8, I wanted something sweet...I was about to run to Sonic for ice cream until I saw the green apple in the fridge. That and a bit of homemade caramel was enough to give me something to stifle voices for another night.
The teasing had been going on since the start of school. Then, two months in, I heard one of my cousins make fun of my weight to his friends. That moment was the first conscious decision I had made about my weight. I was a tennis player, basketball manager, in marching band...it wasn't like I wasn't active. During the summers, I participated in three different tennis camps throughout the day and played softball. Seriously, some of my weight was still just baby weight that stubbornly refused to go away and began settling in the designated locations that the Sears genetics preferred. Some of it was muscle. It didn't, however, stop people from teasing me in the halls of GCHS...nor did it stop my own cousin from making fun of me by his truck that day. That day I decided I was going to do better and get rid of the fat somehow.
I didn't go into the next day thinking I was going to skip meals. I wasn't ever a breakfast person once I got out of elementary school and it wasn't forced in front of me. So I rarely ate anything prior to leaving for school. I took granola bars for a pre-practice snack. I ate lunch out with friends every day, as it was too much of a hassle to have my cousin take me home at lunch. That day though, it changed. I went to lunch with friends, as usual. That day was our Long John Silver's day (we had a routine of what was within walking distance since none of us could drive yet). I walked in and lied to my friends. I sat in a booth in the side room. When they asked why I wasn't eating, I flat out said I had eaten a big breakfast and just wasn't quite hungry yet, but had brought a sandwich for my snack before practice. I lied. There was no big breakfast, let alone a small one. There was no sandwich in my backpack - it was my usual granola bar. It started that day...the day I let control become more important than health.
It only got worse from that point on. I began skipping more lunches, occasionally opting to get something entirely too small to be considered a full meal, which was only used to appease the staring eyes of friends. I also began skipping supper. I'd sit and stare, claiming I wasn't hungry or ate a big lunch. I'd disappear to the bathroom, not to purge my already empty stomach, but to stare at my reflection...switching from side view to other side view...pushing "fat" out of the way. My mom knew something was wrong, but I had gotten good at lying about my eating habits and about pushing enough food around to look like I had eaten enough, so she didn't know how to approach me beyond trying the way she did. I shut off. I knew they couldn't know. If they found out, I wouldn't be in control and I'd get fat and I'd get teased. Within a few months, my almost-200 pound frame was down to 130. I hid it the best I could with baggy sweatshirts, but it was obvious to everyone but me. I still saw the fat girl who heard family make fun of me...not the unhealthy girl.
After an away basketball game, where I had thrown away more than 3/4 of a burger from Sonic rather than eating it, I got off the bus and almost fainted into my Dad's car. It was then that action was instigated. It took a few months of building up to full-meal eating because I refused to go to a treatment center, opting to be outpatient with my doctor and a psychologist. By the end of the summer before my sophomore year started, I was back up to 185 pounds.
It was in those learning months that I discovered I could watch what I ate, just not skip out. I needed food; it is fuel. With each passing year, I would lose on average 10 pounds. By the start of my senior year, I was 145 pounds. Though I had learned healthy habits, the negative thoughts never left. Skip lunch. It'll help you lose that next five pounds. Come on. No one will notice once in a while. Those were easy to brush off. The you're still fat, ugly, gross comments that bombarded me sometimes were not as easy to brush off.
I started dating a freshman from the community college my final semester of high school. He was charming and had me convinced that I was beautiful and healthy. Years later, I would learn that that charm was his way of learning my inner thoughts to use against me for the duration of our relationship. As high school ended and college at GC3 began, I was down to 135 pounds. Now, today, I would give anything to be at that weight...it's my ultimate goal. Then, not so much...it was still too big. Comments of "you should have legs like that" or "why can't your butt look that way" came from the person I thought loved me. I didn't listen to friends. I didn't listen to family. He was my world; I was his puppet.
In the four years that we were together, I lost more weight and maintained it at 113 pounds. It. still. wasn't. good. enough. Comments kept coming. He'd go party with his friends and never call when they were home like he promised. He'd come over and expect me to cook, clean, and do his laundry. I bought the insane amount of electronics that covered his dorm room. And in all of that, I didn't eat a lot. I'd eat little bits just to suffice my gurgling tummy and make everyone think I was eating. Four years of that life...
Then something bad happened that caused us to end our relationship. That "something bad" was somewhat of a blessing in disguise. I moved home and sought therapy to cope with the life I thought I still wanted and needed. I moved home and sought help to eat again. In time, I would slowly gain weight back and get accused of being pregnant.
As time kept moving on, though there were numerous dates with guys who thought I was attractive and, of course, finding Brandon who tells me daily how beautiful I am, I kept gaining weight. I turned from controlling every iota of food I put into my mouth into an emotional basket case who uses food to feed the impending emotions I don't want to talk about...or the boredom I haven't filled with food rather than activity.
Honestly, I've been battling those voices again recently. They appear quite frequently when I'm trying to begin a new routine and healthier habits. Hence why I have failed so much in the past with losing weight. I'm not going to lie and say that I don't let the thoughts in and I've come to the point of fighting them off easily. It's not easy. Some days it is tough to fight through. I don't succumb to them, I won't ever do that again. But it's tough. Yesterday was one of those days that I battled throughout the day. I had a lot of emotions I was dealing with throughout the day - ones that I will eventually write about. I didn't go home and find every bad thing to eat that we still have in the house. I didn't go home and lay around. I went home and chose to start a new routine to keep me moving in times like that. I cleaned. I did dishes. I fixed supper. I helped Brandon mow when he got home. I didn't sit down until 8. I couldn't. It was too easy to sit and crave every bad food known to man. In fact, when I sat down at 8, I wanted something sweet...I was about to run to Sonic for ice cream until I saw the green apple in the fridge. That and a bit of homemade caramel was enough to give me something to stifle voices for another night.
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