The Life to be Desired

Today marks the first day of National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Through my recovery, I have grown a passion for advocating for eating disorder recovery and awareness. In today’s society, eating disorders are glorified. Women (and men) are praised for doing a detox, cutting out carbs, forcing themselves to work out, and losing weight. But let me tell you first hand, an eating disorder is far from desirable. 

I was tortured every moment by my own mind. No matter how many pounds I lost, my eating disorder told me that the number on the scale was too high. No matter how rigidly I restricted my food, my eating disorder convinced me I was consuming too many calories. No matter how hard and long I exercised, my eating disorder pushed me to work out harder. And no matter how many times I purged my food, my eating disorder whispered one more. 

That life is full of misery, shame, and self-hatred. That life is not something to be glorified.

What should be glorified is recovery. 

Every day I wake up hearing the same lies I heard in my eating disorder, but now I am choosing to act differently. I am choosing to eat even when I feel awful in my body. I am choosing not to exercise even when I am want to numb out my emotions. I am choosing not to throw up even when I am flooded with more feelings than what seems to be tolerable. That, my friend, should be praised.

And sometimes, I don’t choose to act differently. Sometimes, I listen to the lies of my eating disorder and start to beat myself up for having a slip. But the difference is now I don’t stop at the shame. I talk back and remind myself of compassion and grace. I reach out to my treatment team and friends when I can’t find the words for myself. By fighting back despite using a behavior, I grow stronger in my recovery until one day recovery becomes recovered. 

So next time you catch yourself glorifying the diet culture that undermines the true struggles of an eating disorder, remind yourself of the girl, or boy, or me! who is fighting each day, turning to grace over shame, and winning the battle over the eating disorder. That is the life worthy of praise.

A Galentine's Letter

To My Best Friend,

Lilly Beil, You were there before I knew I had a problem. You loved me despite the fact that I was wasting away not only physically, but emotionally. I can’t imagine how helpless you felt when I was disappearing before your eyes even though I believed I was fine.

You were the first person I called when my therapist said I wouldn’t be able to go back to college if I didn’t gain weight. You cried with me. You told me it would be ok. You reminded me to take refuge in God’s ultimate grace.

When I convinced my therapist to let me go back to school my sophomore year, you stood by my side. You never gave up on me though I was giving up on myself. You were with me as I sunk into deep depression. Even when I bailed on our spring break trip, you lovingly understood. You were the only person I had the courage to tell that I wasn’t going to come back to school after spring break. Again, we cried. We cried because I was in so much pain. We cried because we couldn’t finish the year together. We cried because this disease took such a toll on our friendship.

My junior year, we lived together. You sat by me when we ate out with friends knowing that I was silently suffering over the meal. Even when I put on an act that I was all-better, you spent nights listening to me about the suffering I was still enduring. Despite the struggles I encountered, you helped me see small glimpses of joy in life. I clung to the times when we would hang out because for a brief moment I was free from my eating disorder. You gave me hope that life was bigger than my disorder.

When you studied abroad, your journey was an encouragement. Although you may not know it, your pictures and blog motivated me to want recovery. I wanted to travel and see the beauty of the world, and I knew I could only do that if I let go of my eating disorder.

And when you came back, I told you I was going to treatment. Neither of us knew what that meant, but you said we would face the unknown together. You consistently wrote me letters. We shared our struggles, but also our joys. I am grateful that you didn’t see me as weak or fragile, but strong in being able to face my eating disorder head on. You shared with me how your summer was going which was so helpful when all I saw was my eating disorder.

You’ve stood by my side forever and always. I was filled with joy when I was able to surprise you for your birthday. For the first time in such a long time, I was healthy enough to be spontaneous. You also tried to see my perspective as I explained that I was not all better just yet. Again, we cried. We cried because we don’t understand why I have this disease. We cried because we both know how hard it is to continue a friendship despite such an overwhelming illness. We cried because we have lost so much time together because of this awful disease.

Through it all, I have known I could rely on our friendship. Moving forward, I firmly believe that we will always be there for each other. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I am excited to see all what lies ahead for our friendship. Through think and thin our love for each other runs deep. Thank you for all you have done for me!

Much Love. Forever and Always.

Under the Table. Beneath the Skin.

The first thing I did every morning was step on the scale. I tracked every step I took as I walked to class. During lectures, I counted my calories for the day and came up with better workouts. Before I fell asleep every night, I tallied up every calorie I consumed that day, and after reaching the total, I planned my food out so that tomorrow I could eat less. Sleep and Repeat. (I’d say eat, sleep, repeat but there wasn’t much eating involved).

Needless to say, my thoughts and actions were completely saturated with my eating disorder. People might assume that I controlled my food and exercise so that I could have the best body. One might read those rituals and think that I was vain for caring about my appearance so much. And yes, appearing “perfect” was an aspect of my eating disorder, but oh it was so much more.

For me, thinking about food, exercise, and my body prevented the real feelings from arising. With every minute tied up in my eating disorder, there was no time to address my fears, anxieties, scars. My eating disorder kept me safe from the feelings that I thought would kill me if I allowed myself to feel. In its core, my eating disorder wasn’t about beauty and having a great body. It was rooted in the belief that I wasn’t worthy of being seen. I believed I needed to disappear because I wasn’t deserving of life on earth. And really acknowledging that truth was too much for me to bear.

Beneath the skin, under the table was a little girl who was beaten, battered, and broken. From the outside looking in, it appeared that I was scared to gain weight; but in reality, I was scared of so much more. I was scared of not measuring up to my own expectations. I was frightened of never amounting to anything in life. I was terrified that I would never be loved. And above all, I was afraid that if I opened up and talked about my true pain I wouldn’t be able to cope and that honestly, I would want to die because of how excruciating those feelings were.

However with the help of incredibly patient therapists and the safe environment of treatment, I proved to myself that feelings won’t kill me. My emotions are not too dangerous. I am safe. I. am. safe. Addressing the real issues leads to true freedom. So even today when I default to talking about my body and wanting to lose weight, I’m thankful for my therapist and friends who call me out on my bullshit (sorry mom for the language).

Through the ever-flowing grace of God, I am worthy of life. I am not defined my pain. The real issues are not too much for God to handle. He is bigger than my eating disorder, and I can rely on his comforting hands to guide through those difficult feelings.