To sum up my life, I think in terms of three stages. Pre-eating disorder, years of struggling with the disorder, whether full force or just frays to my "normal" existence, and the past two years. The past two have given me some sort of balance. I think I may have found a little peace of mind when it comes to food and exercise, body image, self esteem, acceptance, etc. It may have to do with adding a serious relationship to my life, or finding a job that I love, or the mere fact that I am so busy, my brain doesn't tick as much as it used to. It doesn't get hung up on the mirror, the amount of calories in alcohol, the size of my thighs compared to other girls--well, not as much anyway.
Like Marya, my story has been silent since it started. I never talk about the pain, the embarrasment, the shame. I never let people know how far I would go to be alone, where I am most comfortable. I've never expressed my hidden fears, my weak confidence, my distorted thoughts, my self abuse and accepted destruction.
I tell women to love themselves, like it's so easy to do.
It took me 23 years, and I'm still not fully cured. I have days, we all have days, where I am so repulsed by myself, I forget that I'm living in the body, moving, swaying, breathing. People see me and I just want to hide. I'm so in my head, so up in the clouds, so down on myself, that the thought of human touch, a complement--it just feels like a dream.
And then there are others, more in the past two years then ever before, where I feel great about myself. I actually see what reflects back to me when I stare in the mirror, longing for body acceptance. Thinking that possibly, just for the time being, I'm satisfied. content.
What saddens me the most is this: Pre college and falling into an eating disorder, I used to be such a thinker. I prided myself on the never ending pages that documented my life, my perceptions, emotions, fears, doubts, thrills, questions...
I fell in love, and I actually FELT it. Every single heart wrenching eye opening soul saving detail. It hurt, and it was glorious. And it ended when food and body obsession took over. There was no more room for emotion. I floated, in and out of bad decisions and great successes. And for the next six years, I never felt a thing.
I lost friends, gained many new lovers, only to leave them too. Couldn't get close, couldn't let them go. The cycle of leaving and wanting and swimming in pools of pergatory is something I am not proud of, and something I know to never do again.
Starving oneself is a crutch. Life was lacking all things I need. Close friendships, communication, plans, parties, socializing, loving, laughing, acting rediculous--memories. If I could've realized then that change was needed, and possible, and I had the control over my own life and destiny, or at least how I wanted to spend my college years, perhaps it wouldn't have happened, or spun out of control like it did. Sadly, once I had made changes, come home to my comfort zone, I did gain control, but it wasn't solid enough. I was too young, too good at pretending everything was fine. I was fine--cured. I left again, away from home, even just to prove that I could do it. I left him slowly, pulled away from friends, life, goals. Before the year had ended, the voice in my head was back, full force.
So fucked up, do I eat, don't I eat. What do I eat, what don't I eat. How much is good, bad--how are others so NORMAL. Starving, bingeing, putting life on hold to lose weight, only to retrieve deeper and binge some more. Years of the rollar coaster, years of the mind games, the twisted, sick games I'd play with myself--only myself. I'm sure people saw the fluctuations, but really, looking back at photos of those times when I remember feeling awful, disgusting, repulsive, I didn't look that different.
The biggest, most contrasting change is in my face. The smile is fake, the eyes are gray. Life--in me, does not exist. Anxiety driven actions are all I remember. No thoughts of future, or what I could do for the world, or for someone who loved me. No, an eating disorder is all consuming, and it's one of the only things in this world that remain ALL ABOUT YOU.
So have I figured out what it's all about? No.
But I have realized that I need a lot in my life. Strong connections and communication with people. Helping them. Letting women know that I've been there--and I've come out of it, and I can guide them to where they want to be.
I got into the fitness industry not because I want to train people to be a size 2. I decided years ago that exercise is the answer I was looking for. It boosts your self-confidence, makes you feel extroadinary and accomplished, and keeps the weight down. It's something that will get you through the day, give you more energy, make you smile more. Most importantly, it keeps you sane.
So to help women, to guide them to where they feel most comfortable with themselves, to the size and mindset that makes them smile in that little black dress--that's why I'm in this industry.
It's your life. It took me a long time to realize that, and yes, it's a lot easier to focus on diet then decipher what is truly making you unhappy or lacking within you, but life is so much more beautiful when the obsession is gone.
You actually FEEL again.
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