I have never had a good relationship with food. Well, that’s not true. The last time I had a good relationship with food I was probably in the third grade. After that, I became hyperaware of my body, and desperate to control what I put into it.
It’s no revolution that another upper-class, white female has dealt with an eating disorder. In fact, studies show this is the demographic most likely to be affected by an eating disorder.
I hit the age of 12 and swiftly developed a pretty intense bout of Anorexia. I got my first period only to lose it three months later and not see it again until Senior year of high school, and since then losing it on and off, even 12 years later. Eating disorders are often comorbid with other diagnoses and I was no exception, developing Orthorexia and Exercise Bulimia that ruled my actions and thoughts, and sometimes were muted, over the past 10 years. I can’t truly say they “came and went” as there always was -is- that little voice, even today.
I am happy and proud to say that today is the best mental headspace I have been in in over 12 years when it comes to this. For that, I have a love of fitness and strength to thank, as well as my amazing friends.
I hit a really low point, losing about 25% of my body weight in a few weeks following a breakup. It sounds so dramatic, and it was lol, but that’s the truth; I wish I could say I was really strong and chill about it and it definitely looked like that to everyone besides my closest friends, disregarding the extreme weight loss, but it sucked. My sadness and anxiety manifested into a lack of appetite and a desperate need to move my body (working out has always been meditative, stress relieving, and mood boosting for me). It wasn’t until I saw my 6th stress fracture that I knew I had to fix shit.
I am a huge runner. It’s probably my favorite thing to do. It’s in my blood; my mom and aunt were both multi-time marathon runners, my dad a US National Team soccer player. But malnutrition over a decade+ long span can really mess you up. I got my first stress fracture when I was 14. I just had my ninth one a decade later. Following my breakup, I fractured my hip from sheer lack of nutrients and overuse of my joints. It was then that I began a refeeding.
For my refeeding journey, it involved eating to satisfaction to fight the Anorexic tendencies, eating foods I wanted to combat the Orthorexic voice I still had, and working out only to feel good rather than out of guilt like Exercise Bulimia told me I needed to do. It wasn’t an easy process; I put on a significant amount of weight that I wasn’t comfortable with and it was mentally taxing. Trusting the process was key and eventually my appetite subsided, I stopped craving food that my restrictive habits never let me have, and when I did eat the junkier food, the guilt was a lot less.
It’s been a little over a year since I started working to heal, and while, yes I did get another stress fracture (3 to be exact), the last one was met with very few tears and an understanding that my body was asking for a break from high impact activities for a little and that’s progress. My love for fitness has exponentially grown. I no longer move out of guilt, I move because I feel fucking great doing it (let me tell you, that god complex that comes with a runner’s high goes crazy), and I eat to fuel my body because it feels good.
To say that I’m fully recovered isn’t far from the truth; I am definitely in a far better place than I was, but I’m still on that journey, just like most people are. I’m still getting comfortable in my skin but it’s good to be where I’m at.
stay well
Rach
RachLansFit 