When I was 13, I developed anorexia nervosa. Really scary, severe anorexia nervosa. I went from a healthy, outgoing, bright girl to a shell of a person. I was not overweight to begin with, but by the end of my ordeal, I was down to an emaciated 75 pounds. I was constantly cold, tired, and quite frankly, wanted to die. It was not much fun, and definitely not a year of my life I would want to repeat. Anorexia is, in my opinion, nothing more than a slow, prolonged form of suicide - and I was well on my way to that fate. Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder. I am thankful every day that I am here and alive and well. I beat the odds.
I would like to slowly share my story on this blog, in bits and pieces, as I feel inspired. I will subtitle these "Skinny Stories". The whole darn story could make a book, but rather than a long, linear, historical tale, I would like to tell it against the backdrop of my current life. You don't have an experience like that without it impacting the rest of your life, and my experience has become woven into the fabric of who I am. That starving girl is still there inside of me, and she has a story to tell. In my case, I had 2 tools of self-destruction: a calorie-counter book and the bathroom scale. My addiction was to weight loss. I couldn't stop. The calorie counter made me acutely aware of the numeric value of anything I put into my mouth, and the scale was my measure of success. Every morning I would wake up, excitedly anticipating my weigh in. I weighed myself at the same time (early morning, before I ate or drank), in the same place (scale lined up perfectly on the "correct" lines of the linoleum on the bathroom floor), and in the same condition (undressed, before my morning shower). That was the ritual, and it was my life. A weight loss meant a good day, maintenance meant a slightly agitated day, and gain was anathema. I would set a weight goal, and I (initially) always had the earnest intent to stop losing weight once I met that goal. The goal started at 115 pounds, but when I got to 115, I thought that 110 would be reasonable. And then I reached 110, and I thought Well, why not 105? And then 105 seemed a bit heavy, so I aimed for 100. By the time I got to 90, I had lost control completely. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to stop losing weight, but that I felt that I couldn't. Fast-forward to the time that I started eating again. (That will be another story for another day.) I remember sitting in the doctor's office, telling him that I was feeling better and wanted to eat again, and he said this to me: That's good. I'm happy to hear that. But you need to know something. Your chances of relapsing into anorexia, or developing bulimia, are very, very high. He was cautiously optimistic. And he was right. The relapse rate of anorexia is estimated to be between 30-50% in the first year of recovery, and 20% overall. Also, the development of bulimia in those who are recovering from anorexia is common. For a pediatrician in 1988, he was ahead of his time in telling me that. This caused 2 responses in me: The first was to say, Nope. Not me. The second was to develop a determination to not count, weight, or track anything. Not what I ate, and not what I weighed. After all, that's what had gotten me into trouble in the first place, right? So, throughout high school, I rarely stepped on a scale. If I had to for some reason, I would get nervous, agitated, and always felt shame and embarrassment over what I weighed, even if it was completely healthy. I finally decided to get rid of the scale altogether and just forget about it. My bathroom scale at home sat unused, and I stopped paying attention to weight. I was so determined not to become obsessed again that I ended up letting go. This was really good and healthy in some ways, but in retrospect, led to some new and different unhealthy patterns. In the past 4 years, I have realized that I need to find a balance. As I wrote in an earlier post, when a friend told me I was overweight, I was shocked and horrified and even mad, but she was right. And I had to make a choice to trust in the process of healing and growing that I had gone through in the last 20 years. I had to make a decision that it was okay for me to step on a scale, that I would not go flying into out-of-control weighing and obsessive behavior. I talked back to the starving girl inside of me, the one who is full of fear and worry that I will relapse and hurt myself again, and I said Guess what? I can handle this. I'll be okay. And so far, I have been. Weight is an important index of health. It's not everything, but it's meaningful. BMI, while it doesn't tell the whole story and certainly has its weaknesses, does matter from a disease perspective. All of my years of eating what I wanted and refusing to weigh or pay attention were sort of like writing checks out of a checking account but refusing to check the balance. And believe me when I tell you that I do NOT have a metabolism that deals with that well. I could easily become obese - it runs in my family and I have to be careful. I have to pay attention. I spent a lot of my 20s and part of my 30s at a weight that classified me as overweight on the BMI scale. Not good. And "dense bones" only explain so much of that weight... I don't weigh myself every day now, but I do try to check in every few days. I don't always want to weigh myself, but I do it to keep me accountable to taking good care of myself. I don't let the number determine if I will have a good or bad day like I used to, but I use it as an indicator that I need to start paying closer attention to what I'm eating or how I'm moving. For me, weight gain means high blood pressure, increased risk for type 2 diabetes, hormone disruption, and other health-related fallout. I won't lie - I do have days where I see a number lower than it has been in the last 20 years, and I think Maybe just 5 more pounds... But I know that voice now, and I know how to quiet it. And then I move on.
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AuthorI'm Emily. I currently work in online education management, but I also have a Masters degree in Nutritional Sciences (my true passion). In addition, I am a mom, cook, avid reader, novice gardener, and enjoy all kinds of outdoor activities. On my blog, you will find articles on food, fitness, weight management, and eating issues. ALL recipes on my blog are gluten-free. Many are low-carbohydrate. Most are grain free. Enjoy! Categories
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June 2019
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