The euphoria of an eating disorder
I want to start with a lot of context of who I am. I am a very relationship oriented person. Whenever I say relationships however, I do not necessarily mean romantic ones. I wasn't raised in a western country that had very individualistic ideals, in fact I was born in a country where your relationships were praised just as much as your achievements. So I grew up thinking that our relationships and the environment around us makes us into who we are, not by own effort as much as the internet says so. It also fit the bill since I grew up in an extroverted household. One that travels and socializes lots., I made friends with most people. In most situations, I was welcoming and kind to everything that may come.
However, no matter how much I preach about relationships and connections there were things even I couldn't welcome well. My relationship with food and my body.
I resented myself for being so open to food and new tastes. I hated food for the longest time, I never thought I would be the type to be conscious of my body however. Thinking that all I needed was my skills and smarts, I could have pummeled through like like that but sometimes relationships were based off of how we looked. At least that's what high school taught me.
It started small. Honestly, it hadn't even bothered me until "he" said my thighs were too big. Then a subtle comment here and there. Of course it never really helped that I looked like the stereotypical nerd with my glasses and brown skin. I still liked food when all of this was happening. I thought food was still my friend, but 3rd year happened.
It wasn't anything really, it was actually just a gentle nudge and a dance step. I had my prom during this time of my life. The prom, the place where everyone had to look great, had to look wonderful and skinny and mature but still relatively young. I bought the most beautiful maroon gown with my grandmother at the start of December. Off the rack, it fit me perfectly, not too snug but it was absolutely made for me. No issues with my weight there but over the months I started eating less, it had gotten to the point that by February it was, loose.
I thought it was a bad thing to lose weight that fast but it felt so good to be small. It felt good to be thin and skinny, it felt euphoric. That night, I ate so little as well and it never occurred to me until now as of writing that really...I spiraled after this.
You see that summer, I was really into cosplaying and dressing up, It had taken me a while to gain confidence but I eventually slimmed down because I kept seeing these thin cosplayers look so good and in my eyes "You can't cosplay if you're not fit enough."
I sincerely apologize to those beautiful chubby and plus sized cosplayers out there but I don't hold those beliefs anymore, this is simply what I placed upon myself.
Maybe it was fantastic to wear skirts, as a fashion lover I held these feeling close to me. I loved the thrill of a size 20 or so waist. My thighs and waist were so skinny it was absolutely delightful. I had days were I wore short shorts and never worried about the sly comments of being called a fat ass. I could freely show my body in front of my classmates (side note: we were all girls) and never be made fun of. It was this praise and reward I had gotten for giving up something I thought I loved. They say a beautiful life made sacrifices, and for me, I gave up on food.
I barely ate and I felt empowered whenever my body started shaking in starvation because it meant I was getting skinnier, yes I know that it meant I could have potentially lost conscious but who cares when you were hot?
One thing I think doesn't get talked about enough in bigger spaces is the euphoria of an eating disorder, there was this reward for something you worked hard to maintain. It was this delicious wave of compliments and mirror selfies that tasted like the food you had wished you'd eaten.
As I got older however, this started to actually hurt because by my first year as a senior, I suddenly started losing a lot of muscle mass. If I was able to casually carry my bag, ipad, and a canvas during my last year of junior high, well by senior high I could only really carry a bag. I wasn't able to lift heavy things or even carry my friends like I used to. I was weak, but hey...Don't guys like weak girls? They felt manlier that way.
It got worse at my first senior years. It was the worst I had ever been in, and I was positive that I would have died if not for the constant love and help I got from my D&D group. I got admitted to the hospital for an attempted suicide and when all of that was happening, I had still refused to eat. Would you ever tell me the pain and embarrassment I got when the general physician had asked me if I wanted to lose weight?
I was already at the lowest point of my life, I was barely strong enough to lift my art materials, I barely ate everyday and to think...My BMI had spit on me that day, basically humiliated me by still clocking me in at overweight. This was what I hated about getting better. Getting better had no reward system, not to me. It never got me anywhere I needed to be. I hated slow progress, I hated small outcomes. It probably would have finished me off better than the strenuous amount of pills. By this time, I hadn't realize the hate and negativity I had surrounded myself in which really took a toll on me.
For some short context, I was in a new school with little friends that I couldn't really open up to. I was dating my groomer and he had neglected and made me felt bad about myself on multiple occasions. I was surrounded by people who constantly made me feel less of myself.
So throughout that process, I tried getting better. Not even for myself but for whoever leaned on me. I had friends an people who depended on me so much, I decided to have kept myself alive. I won't stray away from the simply fact that...I really really let myself go throughout this process. Sometimes I slipped back into that euphoric state by not eating for months again but eventually I got myself where I started.
Up to this day, I can't give you a happy ending but I just want to say that I no longer stop myself from eating. I eat normally now and I find that I actually really like Oreos with sprinkles on them or blue cheese with fresh garlic bread. When I feel worse about myself, I start eating less but I still eat my meals. I may cry about the weight but I tell myself that I don't have to love this body like its a temple or something but I can just choose to accept it. It's my body, I don't have to love it, I just need it to do what it does. My growth isn't linear, it isn't a straight line, relapses happen but here is my take on the euphoria of an eating disorder.
