Trigger warning: The video above and the story below talk about eating disorders. If you are struggling with one and might find this information harmful, please don't watch or read.
The sun is shining. The birds are singing. People are laughing. It's a perfect day.
But...
A young girl sits alone. She doesn't care anymore. She cannot see all the beauty that is around her. All she can hear is the demons inside her head. The light has left her eyes. She sees no hope in the future. She feels no spark in life. Every day is more of the same. She experiences neither joy nor sadness. She doesn't see the point of going on anymore. She is numb.
I was that girl.
I never thought it could happen to me. I was the funny one. I was the one that didn't take herself too seriously. I was the one who was mature, spiritually and emotionally. I was the smart one. I was the wise one. I was the one who didn't care what others thought. I was the one who wasn't shallow. I was the one who wasn't "boy crazy." I was the one with a good head on my shoulders. I was going places in life.
But... It did happen.
And, when it did, I never thought I could escape it. I thought I was doomed to drift lifeless forever. My world became numbers and scales and calories. My countenance changed. My personality vanished. I became a shell of the person I once had been.
It was the summer before my freshman year of high school. I was going to be starting cross country at the school in my tiny town that fall. I was homeschooled and had been all the way through since second grade. This was going to be a big change for me. It would be my first exposure to the "real world." Although I had been running and competing in road races in the area for the past five years, as my mom had been an accomplished track and cross country athlete back in her day, this would be my first time being part of a team. This would be the first time competing with all girls near my age. Where there is similarity, there is comparison. And, where there is comparison, there is often either pride, envy, or insecurity.
Knowing what was to come that fall, I resolved to eat more healthful. I wanted to have a good first cross country season, and I knew the importance of fueling your body with nutritious food. That was my primary motivation, but I would have been pleased if my efforts also resulted in a bit of leaning out. I had been insecure about my body for the past several years, which I know now is very common of pre-teens and middle schoolers, but at the time, I believed I was the only one who felt awkward in my own skin. I was not THAT large, but I was far from rail-thin. I was a happy kid who liked to eat!
To start, I cut out snacks. I started to drink only water. I decided to forgo desserts. I began to select heathier options for breakfast (goodbye, pancakes!). I began to add more fruits and vegetables into my diet, substituting them for less healthy sides during meals. And, of course, during these few months, I was also running quite a bit and lifting weights in preparation for the cross country season. Things were going great! I felt energized! I felt a sense of pride in my self-control and discipline. I had now become the healthy one too. I was doing good for my body and mind by eating a good amount of clean, whole foods and less processed junk. I also lost a decent amount of weight without even consciously trying to, which I found out when I went to have a physical done in order to participate in cross country. Cross country practice started. I was able to lead the girl's team in practice and even outperform them in workouts. My efforts were paying off!
But, then, things changed. Things changed drastically.
I can't point to a specific moment that everything took a dark turn. I suppose it was a gradual process and shift in thought patterns that spiraled out of control before I knew it. I found myself obsessively looking in the mirror, pulling my shirt up to check my stomach. I found myself constantly sneaking back into my parents' bathroom to weigh myself. I had to see if I had made "progress" or not. Although I was losing weight, I couldn't see it when I looked in the mirror. I saw only the flaws. I saw only what could and "needed" to be improved. I began to do research on calories, learning how many I should have in one day, how many each food contained, and how many different types and amounts of exercise burned. My world became numbers and constant calculation. I enjoyed seeing the number on the scale go down, so I decided to accelerate it. I decided now that in addition to eating healthy, I would also intentionally consume fewer calories each day. I would create an extreme caloric deficit so I would lose more weight faster. This would make me able to run better and be more attractive.
It got to the point that I was eating as little as possible and exercising as much as possible. I would do sit-ups, planks, and other bodyweight exercises late at night in the dark when my sister was already asleep. This was also in addition to running approximately forty miles a week and lifting weights three times a week. I always had to be moving or at least standing. If I was unable to, I would become incredibly anxious, worrying I wasn't burning enough calories. I stopped eating breakfast and would do my best to avoid eating any other meals as well. For lunch, I would often take the food my mom had prepared back to my room to supposedly eat it while I did my school, but I would throw it in my trashcan instead. If my parents were not going to be home for lunch or in the evening for supper, I wouldn't eat anything. I would take some of what had been prepared, either by my mom or by me for my family, and either throw it away or feed it to the dog. Then, I would dirty some dishes with the food and place them in the sink to make it appear as if I had eaten. I knew my behavior was odd. I knew my behavior wasn't good. I knew my parents would be concerned and try to make me stop the obsessive exercise and start eating more food if they found out. So, I could not let them. I attempted to be very secretive with my new habits.
My running performance started to suffer. I had started as the MVP on the team, but I began to fall behind. My very first meet was my fastest one. Each week, my times slowed. I felt so weak. I started to suffer with shin splints (and possibility a stress fracture) that caused me to limp. My mensural cycle became irregular and then stopped all together. Yet, I pushed on.
My parents, especially my mom, began to question me. She began to posit the idea that maybe I wasn't eating enough. She didn't know the half of it. I pretended to be ignorant, but I knew what I was doing. I knew I was hurting myself by depriving my body of vital nutrients and calories. I knew that's why I wasn't running as well. I knew that's why I was dealing with injury. I couldn't stop though. I was hooked. I had to keep going. I had to keep moving. I had to keep eating as little as possible. Yet, I didn't know why.
I no longer thought I was fat as I had before, but I didn't think I was good enough. I could improve. More than that, I was terrified that if I were to go back to the way I was living and eating before, if I were to be less strict with myself, I would gain all the weight I had lost back. All my effort would have been for nothing. I would have been a failure. I would NOT be a failure, not in this way. For once in my life, I would put all my effort and heart into something and "succeed."
People in my life started to notice the changes in me. They would make comments at my eating habits, about my weight, about my reclusiveness. My friends, family, and youth leaders worried about me, but they didn't know what to do. And, who would? How can you save someone from a problem she cannot even admit she has? How can you help someone who insists she is fine?
My life was completely consumed.
You would not have recognized me as the same girl just a few short months prior. What I could eat, when I could eat, how I could avoid eating, when I would exercise, how much I would exercise, and how much I weighed were thoughts constantly on my mind. From the moment I opened my eyes in the morning until I closed them at night, these obsessive thoughts of food, exercise, calories, and body image would bombard my psyche. I had no energy to think of or do anything else. I was unable to concentrate on my homework, and I often found it difficult simply to stay awake while working on it, so I would keep putting it off (I could do that since I was homeschooled). My already pathetic social life suffered greatly as I began increasingly withdrawn and consumed with myself. I was unable to be present with anyone anywhere anytime. I was unable to care about anything other than myself and my new "lifestyle." It was a very lonely, dark, cold, hopeless place to be.
I wanted out. I didn't want to be trapped in this mindset anymore. I didn't want to feel so weak anymore. I wanted my life back, but I couldn't get out. I didn't know how. I would spend countless hours laying on a cot up in the renovated haymow of our barn. I lacked the energy to do much else. I would open the windows to let the sunlight pour in. The tears would fall from my eyes as I laid there alone, drifting in and out of sleep, wondering, "Is this all my life will ever be? Is this my new normal?" I knew I had to stop this. I knew my family and friends were worried sick. I knew I was destroying myself physically, emotionally, mentally, socially, academically, and spiritually. I cried to God to rescue me. I pleaded with Him to save me from the mess I had, myself, created. I begged Him to break me out of the prison I had built that now enslaved me.
He came through.
Yet, it was not in the way I had hoped. It was a long process, and at first, it appeared as if God's solution was worse than my original problem. God's solution came in the form of my body fighting back. It took control. My mind was still very sick, but my body overrode my mental fortitude in a fierce attempt to survive. And, I am VERY glad it did.
At one point I had calculated that I was burning about 2,300 calories a day with a conservative estimate. I was typically consuming about 700-1,200 a day with a liberal estimate. I had created such a caloric deficit within my body that by the end of the cross country season, I began to lose all control. I began to binge. I began to eat vast amounts of food within a very short period of time. And, the food I ate during these binges was not broccoli. No, it was very calorically-dense, often sugary, processed food that I would never allow myself to have any other time. If you've never experienced a binge, you will have no idea what I'm talking about. This is not an instance where you are just really hungry, and the food tastes really good so you just kept eating until you eat a bit too much. This is not what happens on Thanksgiving when you didn't eat breakfast so you would have more room for dinner. No, this is an instance where you lose all control. It's almost as if your spirit or mind detaches from your body, both helplessly watching as your physical self continues to consume. Or, even as if another entity takes over your body. It is a trance-like state. Your mind screams at you to stop. And, after a while into the binge, your physical self also screams, "No! No more!" But, you can't stop. You can't stop until you have eaten so much that you feel you will literally be sick. You can't stop until you've eaten so much that it is unbearably uncomfortable to move and even just to lie down perfectly still. Finally, the trance is over. The haze has lifted, and you have control once again.
This happened to me often.
It started slow. There were precursors. For example, I started sometimes to chew food and then spit it out into the trashcan, so I could get the taste to feel like I was eating something without getting the calories. I would sometimes throw my food away, only to pull it out of the trash a few minutes later and rapidly consume it. I began to get up early in the morning and rapidly eat cereal right out of the box with my fingers. Eventually, these behaviors birthed into binges.
These binges were at first spaced out, but they became more and more frequent until they were a daily occurrence. Every time my parents would leave the house, I would take to the cupboards. I would find anything I could. I come from a pretty healthy family, so we didn't have much around. This would mean I would often bake, eating a LOT of the batter and the finished product. I can remember one time making banana bread. The recipe was supposed to make two large loaves, but by the time I put the batter in the oven, I only had enough for one small loaf. I would eat entire large jars of natural peanut butter with cups of honey in them in one sitting (standing actually since I never sat down during my binges). At the end of each binge, I felt such discomfort and unbelievable shame. I would promise myself I would never do that again. In fact, I would eat even less and exercise more the next couple days in a attempt to "make up" for all the calories I had consumed during the binge. This only perpetuated the cycle. It was the worst time of my life thus far. Here I was terrified of gaining weight, yet unable to stop myself from eating vast amounts of these foods I deemed unhealthy. The mental and emotional turmoil was excruciating.
My parents took notice. They began to see that large amounts of food were missing, particularly during the holidays when we had more goodies around the house. I suppose they also noticed I had out on weight, although it wasn't that significant at this time. One evening, after they found out that I had eaten nearly half a cake and a few other things, they found me out in the barn feeding the rabbits and confronted me about it. Funny enough, I had just been crying about it, praying and asking God to help me (Coincidence? I think not!). I heard them coming out, quickly composed myself, and wiped my tears in an attempt to pretend everything was okay. When they reveled to me what they had discovered, I burst into tears. They hugged me, but I just wanted to run away from them. I felt so ashamed and exposed. I felt like such a disappointment. They questioned me about my habits, but I pretended this had just been a one-time event. I don't think they bought it, but they didn't push me. They suggested that maybe I shouldn't be so strict with myself. Maybe I should allow myself a treat every once in awhile to prevent this kind of thing from happening again.
This binging continued well into the middle of the track season. I felt terrible about myself. I was constantly bloated and dealt with many intestinal issues. I gained weight pretty rapidly as well and in all the wrong places. I felt like the biggest loser ever. The voices in my head constantly told me how unworthy I was. They told me how much of a fat slob I was. After all, I couldn't even seem to control what I put into my mouth. Yet, I did have more energy than before. I was running better than I had been in cross country when I had not been binging. I got a small taste of what my old life had been like. And, I liked it.
I began to search for help.
I began to educate myself on eating disorders and learn what exactly was going on with me. I don't know why I didn't do that long before. Perhaps it was denial. Perhaps I enjoyed my disordered eating and toxic thinking. Perhaps now I was just so broken that I was ready to do something about it. I came across the idea of letting go and letting the binges happen naturally without trying to compensate the next day with less food or more exercise. The logic behind it was that the massive caloric deficit you had created over the past several months would decrease and eventually vanish as you allowed yourself food without restriction. This would decrease binges and eventually end them completely. I decided to try it. I decided to stop restricting myself. I decided to stop counting calories. What I was doing now was not working in the slightest. I was miserable, so I would try something else. After all, how could it get worse?
It was a long road.
I had to retrain my brain to think properly. I had to identify and expel bad behaviors, thoughts, and tendencies. I had to constantly remind myself that I was doing this to be healthy again, not just physically, but also emotionally, mentally, socially, and spiritually. I was doing it to get my old life back. I was doing it to be happy again. I had to look at the long-term, not at the next day, week, or even month. I had to confront the voices in my head with truth. I had to tell them that, no, my worth was not in my appearance. It was not in my ability to perform. It was not in what anyone thought of me. It was not even in what I thought of myself. It was in who God said I was. It was simply in the fact that I was a human created in God's image. I knew He had more for me in life then this.
And, I was right.
By the start of my sophomore year, I had gained a lot of weight. I gained so much that I was even quite a bit heavier than before I had originally started my healthy eating. The temptation was to quickly jump back into my old habits, but I resisted largely, although there were a few relapses. Although I was physically not in the best health, I was far more healthy overall than I was before. I got my life back! I once again had energy! I could focus on my schoolwork, be present socially, hangout with friends, and enjoy life. I didn't like what I saw in the mirror, but I didn't let that control me.
The binges stopped.
I was a normal eater again! I ate when I was hungry and stopped when I was full. I decided to pursue health. I exercised (running for cross country and lifting a few times a week), but didn't overdo it. I ate relatively healthy, but had a treat every once in awhile and forced myself not to monitor calories. I knew where that road would lead, and I did not want to go back to that dark place.
And, without even trying, I slowly (it took about two years), but surely lost the extra weight I had put on until I had gotten back down to the size I originally was before I began my supposed health journey. I've now maintained that weight for about two years.
I will admit that I would like to lose some weight. I would like to tone up and slim down a bit, but that was the thinking that started this entire nightmare I had to endure. I currently try to pursue health in all areas. It's okay to eat a cookie if I feel like it. It's okay to miss a day of exercise if I'm busy or just not in the mood. I will not sacrifice emotional health for the sake of losing a few pounds and maybe being a bit more physically healthy and appealing. I try to eat healthy and exercise regularly, but I will not obsess over it. I will not allow myself. When that type of thinking starts to creep into my head, I take it captive and confront it with truth.
I thank the Lord He brought me out of that.
I thank Him it wasn't much worse. I've heard plenty of stories of people who have died from this. I've heard stories of people who have experienced a whole host of complications that they will have to live with for the rest of their life, such as an inability to bear children. I've heard stories of people who have been living in this hell for years (my experience only lasted a bit over a year) and still see no light at the end of the tunnel.
I had many people praying for me, and I was praying and pleading for myself as well. I look back at it and can't image how it ever could have happened to me, but it did. It started so harmless, but it turned into something incredibly dangerous and devastating in every way. Don't ever think you are above something. Don't ever consider yourself immune to a particular action or failing. "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall " (Proverbs 16:18). Always guard yourself. Don't let the lies creep into your mind and get a foothold in your soul. Rebuke the lies with the truth of God's Word, for there is nothing stronger. Don't tolerate the demon taunting you. If you do, he may one day have you in chains.
