During all my years of blogging, from 2013 through 2020, I considered writing this post. But my thoughts felt too jumbled as I entered into my 40s and continued to wrestle with my body dysmorphia. I ping-ponged between self-loathing and judging myself for lack of willpower, to a true knowing that my body was a healthy gift given to me by God who intended it for good work and joy. From the age of 14 to 25 I was bulimic. I suffered in silence and threw up three meals a day while in high school, college, and my first years in New York City. There was not a person who knew I snuck off to a private bathroom by the gym to throw up my lunch every day of high school. It was my dirty secret. I shared my truth with a dear friend a decade ago when I felt ready. She burst into tears and couldn’t believe she didn’t know. I had to remind her that people with eating disorders know to be sneaky. This is our vice and our safety blanket when the world feels like too much, and I never wanted to risk anyone knowing and making me stop. Growing up I had a family member who was bulimic, and after doing extensive research and reading on this topic, I am confident there is an element of this disease that is hereditary. I also believe that trauma and stress can further trigger people to develop eating disorders. If you knew me during those years you might have said, “Wow, she really has her shit together.” I was relatively thin, played sports, had straight As, and many friends. But behind the scenes, the household I grew up in was chaotic, my parent’s had a contentious divorce, and my mom was unhappily married to my stepfather for 3 decades after that. Isn’t it funny how humans are able to muscle through life, pretending everything is “perfect”, when behind the scenes our realities are anything but. I was lonely, scared, and felt I had no control over what was happening in my life. I hunkered down, focused on being perfect, and developed what would become the most debilitating vice of my life – an eating disorder. I wanted control. I needed control of something.
Over the last 15 years I have become much more open about sharing my eating disorder story and how it has affected my life. In my 20s and 30s I realized just how many people struggle with disordered eating (it comes in many shapes and forms) and there is so much shame around it. I wanted to say, “I share because I no longer want this secret to have power over me anymore. I don’t want to carry this shame.” I hoped my courage would allow others to discuss and release their pain too. For so long I had verbally abused myself each time I binged and purged. Why couldn’t I just have will-power? Why couldn’t I stop throwing up? Why wasn’t I strong enough to just stop eating instead of eating and then throwing up? For so many years this was the dialogue inside my head. And I hated to think that other humans (young and old) were still living in this loop. I wanted to in some small way help others to free themselves from this cycle.
For many years I did not share my story with my children because I feared telling my daughters might somehow trigger an interest in weight loss the unhealthy way. And the last thing I ever wanted was for them to bear the burden of this awful disease. It is something you can recover from, but I believe the truth is that it will always be with you. I tell people I am a “recovering bulimic”. Because much like alcoholism, bulimia is an addiction, and I don’t want to fool myself into believing that I have no more ties to this way of thinking. I know it is there beneath the surface, and that reminds me to continually do the work and to take care of myself every day. On my bad days I still feel that inner bully judging me. You gain weight, and a slight sense of panic is triggered deep in your subconscious. You have a scoop of ice cream in Italy with your children, and you are reminded of the years when you would eat a whole tub and vomit it up immediately. It’s there, but now I am in charge, and I have the tools to calm that scared child’s voice and remind her that one ice cream is not the end of the world, and that all the good my body does for me is worth so much more than the flaws I fixate on when I am stressed or scared.
Last year I saw my beautiful daughter processing the bodies around her and the images she saw on social media and questioning if she was thin enough. I was worried that in a world where GLPs are often misused to make thin healthy women turn their curves into skeletal frames, she might do something unhealthy to look that way. I told her my story to help her understand that no drastic measure is ever the right choice if the primary goal is to love yourself and care for your health. She was upset to hear my truth but compassionate and understanding. We talked a lot about loving your body for all the amazing things it does. We talked about the benefits of being strong. And the long term damage of starving your body of the nutrients and vitamins it needs to thrive. I shared how therapy helped me to heal from my trauma, but that during Covid I turned to meds to help me quiet the voice of judgement and anxiety when it became too loud. I do not take medication lightly and I did EMDR, talk therapy, meditation, and cold plunging before realizing I needed chemical help to finally move past this colossal stumbling block.
So what I have learned in 20+ years of working on and bearing with this disorder? I have learned that our eyes and our minds cannot be trusted to tell us what we look like to others. We are often too self-critical, and judge ourselves in ways we would never judge others. I have learned that trauma and stress can trigger a deep-seeded need for control. And if that control, of our own lives, our grades, our families and our work does not come, we turn to vices that do not serve us. So what is the takeaway from this post? Love your body for all it does for you. Seek help for you or your child if they are showing signs of using food as a control mechanism. Consider medication if the problem gets too big to be controlled by meditation, therapy, or other holistic modalities (like cold plunging and breath-work). And remind the people you love that social media, and media in general are not reality. There are filters and airbrushing, ways to pose, and clothes that make people look unnaturally thin. Skinny and thin should never be the goal. Strong and happy are where I now aim to be. My deep hope is that these words will reach at least one person out there who needs to be reminded of these truths. We are all in this together. Flawed, wonderful, broken and healing. Peace to you all my friends.
