Discovering My Femininity In The Midst Of An Eating Disorder
Anonymous
I am lying in my college apartment bed with my eyes closed, tired from a long day of classes and homework. Before I fall asleep, I let my mind wander for a little while. “Tomorrow will be the day I stop thinking about my weight. Tomorrow I’ll begin again.” I distract myself with other thoughts for a moment… Then, my mind seems to wander back to the same persistent question, “What will I eat tomorrow? Which meals can I get away with skipping?” I fall asleep again with this weight that I have grown all too familiar with.
I have had an on and off eating disorder for almost seven years. I am 23 now, a recent graduate with an English degree, cook, writer, graphic designer, and soon-to-be wife. I have a lot of gifts and aspirations. And yet, when I am asked to describe myself, one word always comes to the forefront of my mind: anorexic. This little word has consumed my life since I was a freshman in high school. It has stolen me from friendships, kept me from adventures, discouraged me from pursuing opportunities, and inflicted far too much suffering on my family. Worst of all, it has damaged my self-worth and weakened my spirit. How could I have allowed such a small word to have taken so much from me?
My eating disorder reached its worst point when I was a senior in college. After years of craving attention from my family and those around me, I received this attention in a way I later realized was not at all what I actually wanted, but what I desperately needed. On the last night of my spring break, my mom called me and told me she was worried about me. She said I needed to see someone immediately before it grew any worse, or I may need to return home. I didn't know what to say. As tears filled my eyes, I acknowledged to her for the first time that I needed help. “I know I’m sick.” I had said the words out loud. Fear filled me to the brim, and yet I felt a simultaneous sense of relief as I hung up the phone.
Since that day I acknowledged my eating disorder, countless moments of joy and suffering have mingled together in my daily life. I left my job in November so that I could return home and address my health more fully, not telling my roommates and friends the primary reason I decided to quit and pursue more flexible jobs. My boyfriend (now fiancé) remained the only one I shared everything with, deepening our relationship despite the pain of being separated from one another. My life at home was isolating, and yet an underlying sense of confidence and peace in the decision I had made enabled me to view this suffering through a different lens.
Accompanied by this peace was a silent voice, a steady desire to discover who I was without my eating disorder. I had come to believe that we could not be separated, that my identity wasn’t complete without its suffocating rules and poisonous lies. For the first time in my life, I prayed to the Blessed Mother for the ability to see my worth as a woman made in her Son’s image, and for the grace to forgive myself for the way I had neglected my body. I decided to embrace the cross before me, to relish in its realness, and allow its ugliness to purify my soul. In acknowledging my bodily fragility, I learned to lean on Jesus more than I ever had, offering my weak heart before His feet and resting in His welcoming arms.
I have always had a special devotion to Saint Thérèse. Before I began my recovery, I asked for her intercession and returned to this quote over and over again, placing it in the context of my desire for healing: “If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.” My eating disorder convinced me that I had to look a certain way, and grow in the same exact fashion as the women around me. I think one of the greatest offenses we as women can show God is to act as the Heavenly Gardener, deciding for ourselves which flower to be and how we shall grow. The sunflower is not meant to grow like the rose. Once I allowed myself to be fed by the Heavenly gardener- to let him water me and absorb his light, I began to know the peace I had deprived myself of for so many years.
Now, I pray before the Blessed Mother, still broken from years of battling anorexia, but unshaken in my resolve to grow in the manner He has planned. I am eager to learn who I am as a daughter, sister, friend, wife, and mother one day if He wills it.
Who am I now?
I am a 23 year old woman, slowly discovering who I am without anorexia, and thankful for this new beginning in the one who makes all things new.
