Lovely Readers,
I am well aware that the following transgression is completely distorted thinking but it honestly confounds me that there is such a fine line between healthy and un-healthy.
I remember the happiest time of my life just two years ago the summer before my brother left for the Air Force Academy. My boyfriend and I were still well-within the honeymoon period, my senior year would begin in the Fall and my friends and I were as tight as ever. I was maintaining a ‘healthy’ diet and my mind was mostly free from any sort of depression or serious mood swings.
I was actively involved in my high school’s varsity volleyball team and I felt fit and happy with my body. My clothes hugged my petite frame and my boyfriend always joked about how little and cute I was. I may not have felt sexy – even at my highest weight I maintained a boyish frame – but I did feel content.
What is surprising about this point in my life was that I only weighed 3 pounds more than I do right now. That’s right, I was a happy, healthy 16-year-old girl, even at a measly 98 pounds. No one really commented on my weight or made jokes that I could ‘break in two.’ No, for the most part I, and everyone else for that matter, was content with my body and my dietary habits.
This is why I am so confused about why my body can be so broken with the drop of a measly 3 pounds. Is it that I truly look that different? I should say not. I feel that people’s perception of me has much more to do with their thoughts of me rather than what they actually see.
Now that my parents are aware of my past problems, they are much more keyed-in on my appearance. While I once looked healthy in their eyes, I now look diseased and ill. WHat they once saw as perfectly healthy habits – eating buckets of broccoli – they now see as the diseased portion of my brain.
My ex recently told me that he refused to see me until I gained at least 20 pounds. I don’t think he realizes I didn’t even weigh that much when we started dating. He seems to think I have become so emaciated that my mere physical presence is enough to revolt him, yet he told me I was the sexiest woman on the planet with a mere three pounds added to my current frame. And supposedly I’m the one with a warped perception?
My point here is not that I should stay at this low weight – I know that I most definitely should not – but that people’s perception of me has changed significantly with their realization that I have an eating disorder. I feel constantly judged on what I wear, what I’m doing and – most significantly – what I’m eating.
Is it fair to expect someone in recovery to automatically balloon up and devour every single junk-food item in sight? No. I still love my brussel sprouts as much as I did before, and I would appreciate it if I wasn’t judged for indulging in what is considered to be a health food. If anything my body needs the nutrients far more than an average eater; it needs to heal.
Why is it that even though I look the same on the outside, I’m treated much different by those who know about my disorder. It creates such unnecessary stress in my already stress-filled recovery process and I would honestly appreciate a day when the first thing out of my family’s mouth wasn’t: How much do you weigh? or Here, have a box of cookies!
I’m the same person I was two years ago; only a small portion of my brain still belongs to ED. Every day I try and move further from its choking grasp, yet with every eye-roll or comment I’m brought right back in. If I’m ever to truly forget, I must stop being reminded by those who are attempting to help.
Sincerely,
R