I found this in my blog drafts from June 1, 2017. It’s emotional. It’s vulnerable. I feel like it’s important for me to share what I was going through for anyone else who is lost in their own sea of despair, struggling with eating disorders. I won’t add too much to this, but know that I was able to overcome this moment through therapy, prayer, and amazing friends and family. You can survive and thrive after moments like this.
I sat in the car and cried. Right outside of work. Right there in the parking lot. The landscapers tried not to look at me too hard but I know they could tell.
I read an article recently that said living with anxiety and depression is like living with two really shitty roommates. And it's true. When it's under control, they usually stay in their room and keep quiet. But every now and then, and sometimes more often than that, they step out just to make sure you remember your place.
I have been on a diet in some way, shape or form since I was 15. I have hated my body for 11 years. I have been in a constant state of self-hate and angst for over a decade.
But I know I'm not alone. I know I'm not the only one who let the lie of perfection seep into their soul and strangle the happiness out of their life. And for 11 years, I've been desperately trying to revive it with the holy water of sweat and tears that I was told would make me happy. Make me beautiful. Make fit, desirable, worthwhile.
How many days have been wasted behind the haze of self-hate? How many meals have come back up because I didn't deserve to eat them? How many photos and memories have I rejected because I didn't have the body I wanted yet?
I weep for my past self. I weep for my current self. I weep for all the women who feel the crushing weight of perfection and the sickening, consuming need to look a certain way in order to love themselves.
Please seek professional help if you are suffering from an eating disorder, depression, or any mental illness. Visit a full list of resources here.