Trigger warning: eating disorders, anorexia athletica, orthorexia

NEDAwareness Week 2020 begins February 24th and what better way to start this month than to tell my story? It is crazy to think this piece of my life will be on the Internet forever.

But before I begin, I would like to remind you of a few things:

1. I do not expect you to understand exactly what I went through.
2. I do not want you to pity me.
3.  I am speaking from my perspective only.
4. Everybody is different, thus everyone’s experiences are also different.
5. This is a single puzzle piece to a highly complex disorder.
6. There’s no such thing as returning to the way things were before the illness, “recovery” is reconstructing yourself and racing head-on into your fears every single day. It gets easier over time, but it’s never gone.

Anorexia athletica: “…self-worth is tied to physical performance and although some concern may be present about the size and shape of the body, more emphasis is placed on how lean a person is as compared to his or her successful or professional counterparts.”(https://eatingdisorders.com/explain/anorathletica)

Orthorexia: “…an obsession with proper or ‘healthful’ eating. Although being aware of and concerned with the nutritional quality of the food you eat isn’t a problem in and of itself, people with orthorexia become so fixated on so-called ‘healthy eating’ that they actually damage their own well-being.” (https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/learn/by-eating-disorder/other/orthorexia)

What if I told you that the unhealthiest thing I have done is try to become healthy? That claim might initially seem equivocal, for it took myself an entire year to fully understand those words, as well as come to terms with them. Before I had accepted this truth, I had been enervated to the bone by false ideas; as my body had wasted away so did my aspirations. It was an egregious experience that provided me with an entirely new perspective on society’s goal to be “healthy”.

As captain of the female’s cross country team back during my senior of high school, my drive to succeed was bolstered by the limited time I knew I had left to compete. I remember waking up before the sun did, one of the few people jovial to begin their day at 4:45 A.M. The yawns and the droopy eyes were innocuous, thus my legs were not bothered by the rest of my body’s sleep state. The passion that an athlete has is undeniably strong, for the hunger for victory is something that allows athletes to reach their full potential. I often ask myself if a person can have too much passion flowing through their veins, though. By this, I mean excess amounts of anything lead to the birth of an obsession, which can have devastating consequences for the individual.

I am grateful that I grew up in a house where winning was not everything, a place where first place is celebrated, as well as sole participation in the competition. There was not an external pressure on me to be “the best”, but as my hours of training stretched longer for cross country, my internal self was eager to see results. As the summer rolled on, I watched with content as my rank in the team increased. It was such a surreal experience that I hold in my heart today, for this was an accomplishment that did not stem from luck or genetics, but from blood, sweat, and tears of hard work.

Around this period, I admired many fit Instagram celebrities who too participated in an active lifestyle. I spent a multitude of hours scrolling through their expensive activewear, their workout plans, and their “healthy” diets. It finally came to my attention that I was doing all in my power as an athlete by attending practices and pushing myself to my VO₂Max consistently.  I had complete control over every aspect of myself except for the food I consumed, which was a subject I hardly paid notice to initially. I ate when I was hungry and stopped when I was full, but this intuitive eating did not line up with these fad diet philosophies. My common sense had been blinded by my want to increase my race time and to secure my position in the varsity line-up, so I decided to give the diet a chance.

It blows my mind to think about the chain of events that went on, each choice becoming crazier than the next. It happened so quickly and I had surfed on the placebo effect the entire time. First, it was gluten that I had cut out because according to the media, it was unnecessary to consume. Most people were apparently intolerant to it, thus those who avoided it reported feeling better in general. Even though school had taught me the difference between unreliable and reliable data, I still sat at my laptop, fingers-crossed that these alterations would solve my dilemmas in running. Before I knew it, the gluten eventually became almost all carbohydrates and later I also rid my diet of all dairy products. I avoided all processed foods or anything that I perceived as too greasy. The pride an individual obtains by following a diet other normal people struggle to maintain is one aspect to its appeal. A person can establish an identity through their choice of food. For example, my self-esteem was built on the idea that I was considered a successful athlete who had the willpower to refrain from eating fast food, desserts, and salad dressing. Furthermore, I was convinced that bread makes a person lethargic, so I associated my ambition with the fact I was able to turn down a hamburger bun. Even after taking AP Psychology, I was still oblivious to the positive reinforcement that my fellow teammates and classmates would give me. They showered my “healthy” quest with praise regarding how one day they sought to do the same; I was galvanized by their words and continued my strict diet. Training every single day is what likely ended the race time plateau I was battling with, but I gave all of the credit to not drinking dairy milk.

Each sign was subtle: the dizziness, the heart arrhythmias, the extended periods it took to recover from sore muscles. I remember when I could no longer keep my organs warm, my body responded with lanugo to preserve itself. My resting heart rate was decreasing by the day, but that was typical for an endurance athlete. For instance, Lance Armstrong reported having a resting heart rate of 32 BPM, so even though normal was between 60-100 BPM, I was convinced that I had to exceed the average, congratulating myself for the 47 BPM.

For someone who was overcome by lassitude due to the endless list of rules and regulations to follow, I still displayed satisfaction for my “healthy” lifestyle. When I was at work one summer afternoon, my boss exclaimed, “Did you lose weight? Your jeans look big on you.” Living in a society that applauds diet culture and has the mindset of thin being superior, I was brainwashed into thinking that maybe this unintentional act was rather an accidental blessing. By this, I mean that I was not trying to lose weight, but was I upset that I had lost a few pounds? Not at all. Well, a few pounds eventually turned into fifteen.

Where do we cross the finish line and accept that the race is over? I never could tell when enough was enough since my passion, my determination, and my enthusiasm was screaming on the sideline to keep going. Perfectionism takes hold of reality the same way excessive drinking on a Friday night does. It causes an individual to lose their sense of proportion, suddenly creating the illusion of invincibility.

I find that being so-called “healthy” is quite destructive in nature; for everyone seems to be in pursuit of pure, optimal “health,” but what does that mean? We all have different definitions of it. How can we expect to reach something undefined? How will we ever realize we are there if we don’t know what there is? What is the most terrifying is that in order to reach such a pedestal, we are willing to take reckless steps and make choices solely based on desperation. It’s a fight to the death and it’s a fight we will partake in until we are dead.

Until next time, I leave you with this:

As I mentioned earlier, I don’t want you to pity me. I want you all to be aware that eating disorders are not black and white. They do not always look the way that the media depicts them. The majority of the time the damage can not be seen, for it manifests itself beneath the skin, eating away at a person’s bones, muscles, cells, and happiness.

To be continued next week…

National Eating Disorders Association Hotline: 1-800-931-2237

Something Fishy: 1-866-418-1207

Hopeline Network: 1-800-442-4673

National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders: 1-630-577-1330