Guest Blog: “You’re Not Good Enough” – National Eating Disorders Awareness Week 2012
by Julia V. Taylor
I walked into the gym in a dizzy haze. I had just run from my house, down the road, up the road, through the park, and into the gym. I hurriedly raced by the front desk staff, up the stairs, flung open the locker room doors, and went straight to the scale. I bargained with myself along the way, “Please don’t be too high, please don’t be too high.”
I made grandiose promises that I never kept (read: if I don’t weigh too much, I promise I’ll eat more.) The number was too high. I stepped on and off the scale like a metronome. The number didn’t budge. I gave up. I couldn’t leave the gym until it was lower.
The next hour went something like this. Run, weigh myself. Run, weigh myself. Run, weigh myself. You get the point. When the room was spinning and the people were blurry, the number was finally in an acceptable range (read: depletion of water, not actual weight loss.) Relieved, I left the locker room and headed to the water fountain.
On the way out, a random stranger said she wished she looked like me. At the water fountain, a guy I know said, “You’re not done, are you?” Dumbfounded, I glared at him. He continued, “You better get back on that treadmill, slacker.” I didn’t get back on the treadmill, but instead of my planned leisurely stroll home, I ran back through the park, down the road, up the road, and through my front door. Although he was kidding, it was almost paralyzing to think someone thought of me as a “slacker.” I had to prove him wrong.
Although that incident was years ago, I clearly remember that day because it was my birthday. In order to be able to celebrate my birthday, which always involved an anxiety-provoking food based gathering that was never worth it, the number on the scale had to grant me permission. That number determined the quality of each day and was the only measure of my self-worth for far too long.
February 26th – March 3rd is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week (NEDAW) and this year’s theme is “Everybody Knows Somebody.” I chose to share that particular story because the people at the gym had no idea what I was going through. They also didn’t know their words completely fueled my anorexia. Many people made ridiculously asinine comments to me that were not out of haste, but sheer ignorance. At my absolute sickest, I was constantly complimented. Looking at pictures from those days makes me shudder. I am one of the few fortunate ones that struggled with an eating disorder for that long and can say “those days.”
Eating disorders don’t know race, class, age, gender or size. They affect millions of people and statistically speaking, you probably know someone who is suffering.
It’s the person at the gym that works out just a little bit harder than everyone else. It’s your neighbor who is always on a crazy diet and talks about how fat she is to anyone who will listen. It’s the man who is obsessed with running and becomes anxious and intolerable if he can’t fit a workout in. It’s your daughter’s friend who silently slips away from the lunch table everyday to find an empty bathroom to purge in. It’s the boy on the wrestling team that runs for hours in multiple layers of clothing to make weight. Or, it’s the last person you would ever suspect.
Many people remain clueless about eating disorders and are plagued with misinformation due to our toxic culture that bombards men, women, boys, and girls with a steady flow of messages that say, “you’re not good enough.” Children are taught from a heartbreakingly young age to hate their bodies. Our society breeds, perpetuates, and normalizes eating disorders on an astounding level. Nobody is immune. It’s not OK.
This is the third year in a row I have shared a piece of my journey for NEDAW. It’s not easy to write about, talk about, and honestly, sharing any part of it gives me a weeklong anxiety buzz. However, it’s worth it. In order to reduce the prevalence of eating disorders, there has to be a heightened level of awareness. Many families live in denial, educators aren’t trained, and I can’t tell you how many completely clueless doctors there are. Again, not OK.
I recovered backwards; I talked the talk before I walked the walk. I lived in a comfortable state of denial for over a decade and the road to recovery wasn’t easy. It took a lot of treatment that didn’t work until I allowed it to. I had no concept of “normal” and had become a master manipulator when it came to food or exercise. I finally realized that in order to disrupt “my” normalcy, I had to get out of my environment. I relearned how to live at The Renfrew Center, a treatment facility for eating disorders. During that time, anger and advocacy helped me tremendously.
If you’ve struggled with an eating disorder, share your story. Educate others to help others. If you are concerned about somebody you think may have one, you owe it to him or her to educate yourself and talk about it. It’s always difficult. We have to fight back. We have to find and use our voices. The power to evoke change truly has strength in numbers. There will never be a “perfect” time. You may stumble on your words and it may all come out wrong. But say it anyway. And say it again, and again (we deny everything, trust me.) You never know, it could save their life.
For more information about eating disorders, please visit The National Eating Disorders Association.
Julia V. Taylor is a high school counselor and the author of Perfectly You, G.I.R.L.S. (Girls in Real Life Situations), and Salvaging Sisterhood. Follow her on Twitter @juliavtaylor
Julia, I read your post a couple days ago and it’s been on my mind ever since. I knew I wanted to comment but as I reflected I had no idea where to begin (and still don’t). I decided to be less calculated and treat this as more of journal entry. So here I go.
I’ve had distorted thinking about food and weight for as long as I can remember: I remember being very young and noticing my black and silver polka dot bathing suit had a “P” after the size and my mom explained to me it stood for “plus” but that it didn’t mean a thing and “what’s on the inside counts”. I remember being excited when fat-free cream cheese came out when I was in 6th grade. I remember how easy it was to make myself vomit in early high school. And I remember when I hit rock bottom and asked my parents for help shortly before entering formal treatment the summer before going into my senior year of college. And I remember my first “slip up” after treatment and the guilt I experienced which sent me into a total relapse. My life as I know it always had another person along for the ride named Ed. I wish I knew why. I truly had a wonderful loving upbringing with parents that would do anything for their 4 children. I didn’t fit the “mold” of someone who would be so sick. And that’s just it – it’s a disease. It’s not that easy with food. For me, it was less about being thin and more about the relief I felt after the act. And the control. And the escape. But what was I escaping? I could go on and on and on…
I never wanted to be bulimic. I wanted to be “normal”. I envied the people that could eat a hotdog and fries and enjoy it. It wasn’t until later in my life that I WANTED to live without it. I got out of marriage that felt, at times, “made it worse” and I started seeing clearly. I started to love myself. And I started to believe that my life (and my heart and my poor teeth which will never be the same) were worth it. I opened up my toolbox of tools I had learned in treatment and gave it everything I had. And I wanted it. I wanted to be healthy. I think anyone that struggles with an ED has to want to be healthy before it can happen.
I still make “safe” choices and check out menus before going to a new restaurant so I feel prepared. I run often and have gained mental strength through my running. But my life since I “saw the light” has been amazing. My relationships are meaningful. I laugh a lot. I cry a lot. I feel a lot. And now I can’t ever imagine going back.
Thank you for this thoughtful post and above all recognizing the need to share our stories.
Stephanie:
Wow! Thank you for sharing your heartwarming story. I was happy to read that you have experienced the “other side.” Living with an eating disorder is emotionally and physically exhausting. Thank you for sharing your inspiring story that will hopefully provide others with the hope they need to keep moving forward.
Thank you for sharing your story. You’re a very brave woman to share, and I think this will open a lot of eyes to the “somebody”s in everybody’s life that slip under the radar. You also give hope to those (myself included) who have been told they’ve been sick for too long to fully recover. We’ll never stop fighting!
You’re never too sick to recover; it’s all about your will to fight. Keep moving forward…
You are never “too sick” to recover and live a full and meaningful life where food isn’t the first thing you think about all the time. I know from experience. It is possible. You just need to decide. It is hard and terrible and terrifying at first; but in the end you are the only person who can pick up a fork and eat a food you’ve forbidden yourself. You might cry, and feel sick, and be so scared that you’d think there was some madman waiting for you, but you can do it. And it will get easier. It takes a long time, but it is possible. Even though the book A Million Little Pieces by James Frey was a total lie, I still found it to be inspiring. At the end, when he gets out of rehab, he goes straight to a bar and orders a drink. Then he sits and stares at it. And then he turns away and leaves. For some reason that has always stuck with me. For some reason that scene made me realize that, while ED is a disease, it isn’t one you can take medicine for and hope for the best, which is what I had always sort of thought. I kept waiting to get better, to not “have” an eating disorder anymore. What I learned is that it is a disease you have to choose to not have, and often making that choice comes with pain and struggle and fear and disbelief that you can do it. It can take months and years of feeling miserable even if you are eating healthfully, wanting so much to go back to your old habits because they are comfortable, comforting, and what your life is made up of. But you can beat it. You just have to fight. You can do it. You can. You. Can. Please keep trying.
I agree. I’ve been fighting my ass off (on?) for a very long time, and finally feel like I’m winning the battle. Thanks for the encouragement.
Kelly,
I’d love to talk more with you. Would you be interested in that? Are you on Twitter?
Yes, I am. Send me an email at beanythingbutquiet [at] gmail [dot] com, and I’ll send you my twitter handle.
I understand as a counselor this may have been difficult for you to share. As an administrator, I must thank you. Just yesterday I had to intervene with a young man who just lost 50lbs since December 1. Even though I know him, I barely recognized him when he came to the office needing medical attention. Although I knew he was a wrestler, nothing connected until I read your blog. It connected why he drank two gallons of water a day. It connected why he worked out at the gym three hours a day. It connected that the other students no longer called him chubby or fat. I connected and I thank you for giving me the words. Thank you for a vunerable, eye-opening, yet powerful blog.
GMW:
I’m glad I kept the wrestler example in my blog, and thankful that you are the thoughtful and caring administrator you are. Your actions speak louder than your words, you connected the dots and made a difference. Your students are fortunate to have you.
Julia, as I read your article I heard an audio montage of all the compliments I received while I was restricting, binging, or just “too stressed and busy to eat.” But through the litany of “you’re so thins!” two other comments came back to me. The first is my now-boyfriend, before we were together, when I pressed him to tell me his reservations about me. He said, “You’re so–small.” And the other, years before, was my mother who told me one night, “I love you but it is painful for me to look at you.” Since that night she and I have had numerous and epic fights about my eating habits and illness, but in that moment something cracked open for me even if it took years to truly resolve. These two people saw another truth in the way I looked while elsewhere I was getting compliments–often backhanded–about my physique.
I have been extraordinarily lucky. The close group of friends who I let into my struggle positively reinforced me by telling me how fantastic I looked when I put on some weight. It took a long time for me to understand that “You look so great–so healthy” wasn’t code for “You look fat.” Ultimately, I had to choose to believe that being told I looked healthy was the real compliment.
But for me thinness was such a small part of the illness. I recently got a new doctor (I’m finally too old to go to my pediatrician), and I shared with some reticence that part of my medical history. My doctor told me that she understood anorexia but she could just never understand bulimia. I told her that I felt the same way until I was there. She asked me to explain, and what I said will not be groundbreaking to anyone who has ever struggled with an eating disorder. I told her that my life so often felt like it was spinning out of control, that in a chaotic and often cold universe I often felt like the only thing I could control was my own body. She looked at me for a moment and told me that this was the first time in her life she understood.
Thank you, Julia, for your call to educate when it is hard, in the face of rampant misinformation and misunderstanding. I’ve been healthy for a year and a half, and this is the first time I’ve written about something that I struggled with for so long. Thanks for sharing your story and your call to arms–or rather to voice.
Kristin,
Wow. Thank you, so much, for your thought provoking comment. I was nodding the whole time I read it. It’s ironic that we understand the same language. It was good to read that you were so honest with your doctor and explained to her what bulimia felt like for you and many others suffering. So many medical professionals don’t understand. It warmed my heart to read that you’ve been healthy for over a year, and I commend your bravery with sharing your struggle. Continue to be well and use your voice!
Loved the message and timeliness of your article, and love how you are using your experience to help others- I’m motivated to do the same. I also was anorexic in high school, and articulating the sense of competition those with the disease feel, and how others can become more aware of the impact of their words around those struggling, can make such a difference. Thank you for this!
Jennifer,
Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad you are using your experiences to also help others. It’s a difficult disease to understand and you’re right, raising awareness can make a huge difference.