My Experience with an Eating Disorder

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For me, it started as soon as I became aware of my body, which only happened once we all became conscious of others’ bodies. This is a critical stage in development, I believe. For me, not fitting in physically was excruciating. It actually wound up excluding me from “the” clique, a group of girls whom I had been friends with since Kindergarten, in some cases. And with a middle school class size of 50, I felt ostracized. I questioned myself to no end. I felt one way; I was perceived and treated as another. I craved acceptance and had a thirst for the very same values which were destroying me. On the rare occasion I found light inside of other members of the class, I found myself resistant, clinging to the ideals and values of the exclusive. “If I could only just…” was my motto. Disordered eating became my battle cry. 

The truth is, I was 21 years old before I realized that my body was never the problem. My culture was. And yes, I say “my” culture because I do believe now that we each have control over which ideals and values we subscribe to. However, when you haven’t pulled yourself out of the depths of despair promoted by our favorite celebrities, there can be a great deal of dissonance felt around the body positivity movement. Contradictions present themselves around every corner.. Hypocrisy runs rampant. Until you remove yourself from the messaging that made you believe these things about yourself in the first place, any other sentiment will feel foreign and untrustworthy, like the ground is unstable beneath your feet. Maybe you know where this is going. [I’ll save my opinions on reality TV and the reign of the Kardashians for those interested in reaching out to me privately. (I am public on instagram, come say hello!)]

For me, the hardest pill to swallow was: When the source of your distress seems to be your weight, loved ones will step in and try to help you address it. Mothers influenced by the same pervasive culture will see your suffering, and they will offer you tools which have helped them cope with the same discomfort. My mother taught me to count calories because she saw me hurting and related to that. Coming to terms with the fact that mal coping mechanisms can come from a place of love was one of the biggest hurdles of my recovery. I’m so glad I have finally cleared it! My mother opened her mind beyond what her mother had presented her, and I can only hope to continue this triumphant trend. 

That is my central point. The future lies in our hands. Our experiences are paramount in promoting a culture which lifts women up on account of who they are, rather than what they look like. The longer we play this losing game, the further we drift from a world where females are truly considered intellectual equals. Don’t let this culture turn you into your worst enemy. 

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-- Emmie Wade, @Emmiewade

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