Chapter 1: The Emergence of ED

The struggle with mental health can often feel isolating, especially when it involves an eating disorder. This post contains reflections on self-worth and body image, alongside the coping mechanisms associated with these challenges.

Dear Eating Disorder, I’ll refer to you as ED for brevity. You have a casual demeanor, often whispering doubts into my mind, insisting that I’m inadequate. It's hard to pinpoint when you first started accompanying me, but I suspect it was around the age of eight when my food battles began.

Memories of intense standoffs with my mother at the dining table flood back. I recall one instance where she blended beef stew and attempted to make me drink it, showcasing her desperation to ensure I got the nutrition I needed.

This was also a time when I faced abuse from my stepfather, leaving me feeling unclean and unsafe. During those frightening moments, you were my constant companion, convincing me that if I just tried harder, I could make him go away. Your simplicity was deceptive: "Just be a good girl."

Reflecting on those days, I realize you weren’t fully formed as an eating disorder yet; instead, you manifested more as OCD. However, as I grew older, your presence became more pronounced and aggressive, drowning me in relentless thoughts.

The internal dialogues were overpowering, masking themselves as safety reminders. "If you just do this, everything will be okay." I believed I could protect my family through rituals of counting, praying, and washing—none of which truly mattered.

ED, your whispers grew louder during my tumultuous late 30s, as I endured an abusive second marriage. You re-emerged, claiming to offer solace. Even now, decades later, your voice lingers.

"Have you seen yourself lately? You've gained weight. Look at how you’re treated—how could you let this happen?" The internal torment escalated, pushing me toward purging as a misguided form of relief.

“Isn’t happiness worth it? Just listen to me; I want what's best for you." But soon, purging lost its appeal, and restriction took over. "Eat less; that’s the solution."

When life overwhelmed me, I relied on you, convinced that my family’s concerns were misplaced. I resisted the notion of needing professional help, insisting to myself that I didn’t have a serious eating disorder.

The struggle with treatment was real. Your voice echoed relentlessly, belittling my efforts. “How many times will you seek help? You’re pathetic. I’ll always be here, lurking in the background.”

Despite the tools I acquired from therapy—Mindfulness, CBT, and DBT—I often faltered. "Why should I leave? Who could make me?"

Yet, something changed recently. I sensed a shift within myself; I felt stronger. You, ED, didn’t like this newfound strength. "You’re using your skills; it cramps my style," you seemed to say.

But I have grown wiser. I acknowledge your presence while fighting to keep your voice at bay. It’s crucial that I remain vigilant and utilize every mindfulness skill I possess to maintain my grounding.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) helps me identify and challenge negative thought patterns, while Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) emphasizes acceptance and the development of coping mechanisms.

These approaches are invaluable, each serving different situations. I realize now that you may always linger, especially in stressful times. Nevertheless, I am learning to coexist with you as a mere shadow, not a dominant force.

Support from my therapy team is essential. I know I can return to partial hospitalization if necessary; there’s no shame in seeking additional help.

I’m gaining control, and I refuse to let you dictate my life any longer.

The first video titled "MI Healthy Mind: A Conversation About Eating Disorders" discusses the complexities of eating disorders and the importance of mental health conversations.

The second video, "Inside the Eating Disordered Mind," offers insights into the thoughts and feelings that accompany eating disorders, shedding light on personal experiences.

If you relate to my journey, I invite you to join me in recovery. Your support means the world, and together, we can navigate this path toward healing.