Unspoken Truth Behind Teen Eating Disorders
A trip to the store, windows down, music blasting, I was singing Sade with my mom in the car on a sunny day in August like we always would do. A bead of sweat on her lip as she turned right onto a street that was unfamiliar to our normal route. My stomach dropped as I realized we were not going to Ulta, but instead I was facing the reality of my own damages. The doctor watched me walk in, my mom in the car, my body felt numb as I heard the words, “Turn around and step on the scale.” There was no hiding behind the layers of lies and fabric anymore.
Growing up as a dancer, ideas of body standards and unhealthy talk around food was something that surrounded me from the age three until I was seventeen. It was something that became so normalized in my life that I became numb to the comments from the ballet teachers I had that were almost on a lazy susan because of the way the rotation of comments came out, “I can see your lunch,” maybe skip breakfast before your audition to look more slim,” on replay every day. Eating disorders affect 30 million people in the United States, 12% of which are ballet dancers.
Being an eight year old in the dance company at my ballet school was my biggest accomplishment of the time. I would spend my days watching the older girls in the company float around on their toes all day with ease, but then lack the fuel necessary to maintain any sort of light or reality behind their eyes. While I never understood what was happening in the early years of my passion for dance, I would become far too familiar with the standard of practice that comes with the job.
When I was seventeen I started to have feelings of insecurity. Insecurity in my talent and Insecurity in how I looked. I was not a string bean twelve year old. I was almost an adult with curves, and features that were no longer accepted by my teachers. Knowing these feelings I was starting to feel, and knowing I would be going to college soon I figured it would be a good idea to quit the passion that used to bring me so much joy because it was now stripping me of everything I had. Times were good, my self confidence was growing, and I was enjoying my senior year of high school like the normal kids, I never got to do that before. Freshman year of college was around the corner and so was New York City, a passion I never gave up on.
All was going as planned and I was never more eager to get to work on my goals and future. As soon as October hit, all the thoughts came back into my brain, but this time actions followed. Writing down my goals for shrinking myself down to nothing and trying different ways to make it work. Month by month then week by week, I was deteriorating in front of everyone I loved and cared about. May came around the corner and I was going back home. I had never seen my dad cry until he pulled the car up to the dorm and saw me walk out with my stuff. He could not even look at me.
Seeing him that day made me realize just what had happened to me but it still did not jumpstart me into recovery. In my mind there was always smaller, something else I could do. Coping with OCD and Anorexia was something that I never thought would be a practice in my life, I was lost and looking for an outlet, unfortunately that was in the form of wine which started as a casual glass with dinner and spiraled into yet another bad habit. Bottles that would consume my whole being when there was nothing of substance to me. Summer went on and nothing changed. I was still shrinking and coping with the disappointment I was causing my parents with another abuse. August came around, Fall semester was about to start, something had to change.
When I was thrown into recovery on that surprise shopping trip I was devastated to face the reality of what was going on. It wasnt that I was scared of the damage, I was scared of getting better, and that is what Anorexia does. My bloodwork was tragic and I was one pound away from the hospital. From that day on I had no choice but to basically force feed myself back to health, mental breakdowns, fights, and weekly doctor appointments consumed everything in my life until January of 2023 when recovery was finally on the horizon. A switch in my mind flipped and suddenly I had a new passion that I wanted in my life for the long run.
I attended online support groups where I was able to speak to people in all stages of recovery who could relate and help me feel more understood in my struggle as Anorexia is something that is not widely talked about. I felt less alone, and these Monday night groups helped me in my journey with healing myself and my body. The impact these groups had on me changed my passion for advocacy and understanding the true importance of a comfortable space where people can be destigmatized and made to feel safe. Now in those spaces where I used to go to feel support for my struggles, I now go into those spaces as an advocate and leader for people starting their journey.
Seeing the light return to my face and eyes, getting back the relationships I had lost due to the disease, that made everything worth it. It is hard for me to see images of me from those months because I feel so bad for that scared girl plagued with an evil killer. Having the knowledge and experiences I have now, I am inspired to help others like me, when something is so stigmatized, but also glamorized it makes it hard to see the good side of getting better, but living a full life will always be better than shrinking down rill no one can see who you really are.
