Stand up from your chair precariously placed in front of a judge. Breathe in and… Hi, my name is Rebekah Jade and I am a survivor of Anorexia. Goodness gracious. Yes, those words in accordance with each other still feel as though I am admitting to something I did wrong. Something I had control over. I never was, and still have never to this day been reprimanded for my eating disorder and yet I am burdened with such shame that myself reprimanding is enough to make up for the rest of the world. I had a good life, the most amazing parents, two sisters who I can call my best friends. There was no major traumatic experience that sent me in a downward spiral. At least I couldn't find any evidence that there was. Until it all went too far and I didn't even know it.
Sydney, Australia— born and raised until I was twelve. Then my family and I moved to the heart of Brooklyn, New York. Did I want to move? No, not particularly mostly because I was twelve and thought I had my life together. But then my parents made mention of possibly getting a dog if we moved and I was sold on the idea. Middle School was… Middle School. A time that you realize just how much awkwardness is capable of inhabiting one human being, but none the less it was a good experience. High School was amazing; it was within those four years that I discovered my passion for leadership as well as found friends that are now more family than they are friends. Fast forward to College and I find myself as an Animal Science major on the pre-veterinary track. College was a bit of a nerve wracking experience with its approach but once in execution was unbelievably exciting. Sounds perfect right? It was up until finals week of the first semester freshman year. That’s when I saw the chaos begin to unfold.
I spilt water on my laptop. Rookie mistake I am well aware. But stress levels were high as I was studying for several exams the following day and accidents happen. However, the combination of stress and accidents sent me over the top. I saw the bottle tip as if in slow motion and quickly picked it up before too much water had spilled in the computer. I followed the general protocol for what to do when there is water damage (which I knew thanks to the nerds in the family) and then called my dad. There were a lot of tears but he reassured me that everything would be alright. But the tears didn't stop if anything they got worse. I called my mum. By this point I was hyperventilating to the point where I was incapable of creating a cohesive sentence. That was my first anxiety attack.
Come spring semester and that attack was long in the past, but I the scar was still imprinted on my mind and heart. I promised myself that this semester was going to be one of healthy habits and healthy mindsets. It involved allotted “library studying time”, a very strict gym schedule, and healthy eating. I was determined to gain control of my life; I was not going to let another attack take control of me again. This was good. Every aspect of my life was controlled. I had found my "balance." Not a single anxiety attack surfaced through that semester. Then the semester came to an end and I went home for the summer with a sense of self accomplishment—of pride. I had beat anxiety. With my return home I realized that my schedule was substantially less busy without school and all the work that came with it so all I had left to fulfill my “healthy lifestyle” was the gym and healthy eating. However, I realized that I was already incredibly healthy in my habits so what next? I had to become healthier. Along this path somehow healthy became synonymous with low calorie. I would search the internet and nutrition labels for the lowest caloric foods I could find and made them part of my daily meals. This incessant need and new definition of “healthy” became the reason I avoided certain food groups all together despite how much I loved them. Things like banana and avocados were a no-go zone simply because they were higher in calories than some other fruits. Notice my complete neglect on the vital nutrients they supply, to me low-calorie was the only definition of healthy. I got to the point where I could convince myself that I didn't like certain foods simply because it was what my mind had deemed "unhealthy." Little by little I grew a wider range of fears and a narrower array of foods I would allow myself.
So I started to eat low-calorie for every meal I could. And not to forget I was still exercising almost every day focusing on extreme cardio workouts. But then I reached that plateau again where I had reached my maximum healthiness with my current restriction so yet again I sought after an even “Healthier” restriction. This took the form of portion size. By this point not only am I eating low-caloric foods (like a bowl of broccoli for every meal I could) I was also eating less in physical size. It is important to note however, that I never stopped eating. Not once did I skip a meal (that would have been "unhealthy") but this played a crucial part in my nescience to my extreme weight loss. I was blind to the fact that I was deteriorating at an exponential rate.
It wasn't until I was walking up a flight of stairs to the subway platform on my way to work that I realized something was wrong. My heart was beating out of my chest—I was winded from a flight of stairs. I was supposed to be Fit yet I couldn’t make it up a flight of stairs. What was healthy about that? This also emphasized that I was wearing a coat in the middle of summer. I hadn't thought much of it until then. Not only was I at a dangerous weight but my body could neither maintain a stable internal environment, nor did it have enough energy to allow my heart to function without strain.
With the recognition of my eating disorder a sense of shame settled on my heart.
I tried for a week to change things, to try challenge my fears but was incapable, so I did what I feared the most: I told my parents. My parents throughout the summer had raised their concerns with me numerous times but I assured them that I was just being "healthy". Because to me it was true. Two days before my 19th birthday I wrote my parents a letter saying something was wrong. I didn’t have the courage to tell them in person, so a letter had to act on my behalf. I was ashamed of many things: of how sick I looked, how many people I had unconsciously pushed away, how I had lied to myself and to everyone around me, but mostly I was ashamed of who I'd become. At this point in my mind my eating disorder defined me and my decisions
That was when my recovery started.
That was when I knew I had to change, I had to attack the issue at the source. My eating disorder was not a consequence of poor body image, but rather an immense lack of self-worth entirely and this incessant longing for control. The more control I had over my health meant the less control my anxiety had over me. Little did I know that too much self-control could be just as damaging.
My disorder was far more taxing mentally than it was physically despite what the world may have seen. Lack of nourishment was the final swipe of the sword; my mentality had been killing me long before my eating disorder surfaced. My mind was the source of my issues meaning it had to be readjusted first.
Way too many tears were shed over the next few months, all of which were necessary as I began to realize just how disturbed I had become. But my shame still controlled me and thus a small barricade was built around me and my eating disorder. I told myself it was a barricade built out of protection but really it was built out of fear and embarrassment. But I kept recovering.
The Summer drew to an end and I had gained some weight but not near enough. I feared returning to college and having to see people despite how close I was to all of them. Throughout the last month of the summer I had completely changed my mindset, I started seeing food as life— as the energy I so desperately needed. But the summer came to an end so I continued my recovery journey while at college. This in itself proposed so many challenges: "Skinny shaming" became a part of my daily life, eating upward of 3,000 calories a day simply to restore my body weight, as well as my own fight with shame.
Within the first week of my return to college I met with a doctor and nutritionist on campus. We discussed my situation and made a plan for my recovery. We saw that there were a lot of other physical things other than my weight that were effected by my eating disorder and those needed to be fixed just as badly as my weight did. But I did it. I became weight restored while at college.
I can successfully say I overcame something that came quite close to killing me. But that doesn't mean I’m anxiety, shame and struggle-free. Anxiety still clenches its tight fist around my throat making me choke on my words and forcing tears till they leave a stain on my pillow. But I see that monster a lot less now. And when I do see it, I know how to fight it off. I found it incredibly helpful in my recovery to find others who struggled just as I did. To see that the clichés were true: I was not alone. More than anything to give value to the pain I was feeling and guidance to succumb it.
So this is why I write—anyone who has ever suffered from an eating disorder knows that the general public’s perception of what it means to have an eating disorder is negatively skewed. Preconceived notions of eating disorders need to be shut down because they do more damage than good. Recovery is more than just "eating again." People can be suffering from an eating disorder like anorexia and not be sickly thin. Just because it some forms of the disorder to not fall in societies textbook definition with the textbook stereotypes doesn’t mean it’s not a disorder. My goal here is to break those standards and to help anyone I can whether it be a simple word of support or advice from friend who has made it through. This is day 1 in our friendship. No question is too much or too far, you can ask anonymously or put your name to it, that’s not the point—The point is that you have a confidant in me and together we will rediscover happiness, and we will rediscover you.
