Anorexia nervosa: Silently suffering and debunking myths

You can’t tell how much someone is suffering by looking at them—one reason I don’t share my journey with anorexia using photos to signify my mental health status. I’ve suffered more when appearing well, and “before and after photos” would spread misconceptions about eating disorders. They don’t magically go away with weight restoration and nourishment.

People assume I no longer live with anorexia. I perceive this is partially due to the way I talk about it and the fact that I no longer appear unwell. The conflict in my head about how I’m doing often leads to my own invalidation of the challenges. However, I know that even when I was medically compromised, I never felt “sick.” Anorexia is an intriguing condition. I talk about it more as I learn more about its role in my life and how our medical system and society get it wrong. I talk about it because it’s on my mind every day. Every day, I have to choose whether to let anorexia rule the show—multiple times per day. It can be exhausting. For those living with eating disorders—I see you.

Three years ago was the most recent time I didn’t know if I’d survive anorexia, and I had tried every level of care Western medicine had to offer. I was so tired. The included photo was from four years ago, taken in my condo, which I recently wrote about selling less than a year after purchasing—a decision that became a catalyst in my healing journey.

When I sold the condo and mostly everything in it, I started freeing myself from everything I thought I “should” desire and felt the weight of the world lift.

I started detaching from societal values, and I recognized the following:

Behaviors that nearly killed me:

Workaholism
Perfectionism
Chronic calorie restriction
Compulsive exercise
Sleep deprivation
Self-sacrifice and abandonment
Internalizing emotions and masking suffering

Behaviors that societal values reinforce:

Workaholism
Perfectionism
Chronic calorie restriction
Compulsive exercise
Sleep deprivation
Self-sacrifice and abandonment
Internalizing emotions and masking suffering

My life depended on unsubscribing from societal expectations and pressures.

My life was saved by Western medicine, but my deeper level of healing has involved much more.

What has promoted healing (in no particular order):

Mindset/narrative shifts:

Psychosomatic trauma therapy
Values-based living/living in integrity
Spiritual development
Supportive community
Minimizing clutter (inside and out)
Self-compassion
Nourishing the mind, body, and spirit
Adequate rest
Dogs
Nature
Humor
Writing and sharing (external processing)
Respecting and honoring all emotions

I’m on a psychospiritual healing journey that I anticipate will last a lifetime. I share to invite others to free themselves from the societal pressures that drive us away from what matters before their health forces them to—before it’s too late.

Despite my willingness to be vulnerable, there are parts of my life very few know intimately (Reese, my dog, may be the only one). And as I allow myself to bring the memories to mind and process them, I sit in the same body… my body remembers. My body survived. Now I have an urgency to help others not only survive but to stop restricting themselves by the rules society creates, rules that were not made for us to live fulfilling lives grounded in what truly matters to our minds, bodies, and spirits.

Every day, every second, we have a choice. What do you truly want and need at this moment?

When we’ve abandoned ourselves for so long, we may not know how to answer—and that’s OK. The first step is awareness.

I felt grief and sadness for most of the beginning stages of my healing journey, aligned with Stage 1 of Martha Beck’s Change Cycle. We often must grieve parts of ourselves as those parts die, and we experience a rebirth.

There are photos I don’t share, as I know photos can be triggering for people with anorexia. However, I will honor those parts of my life, too. Feeling that I must hide parts of my life to reduce risk to others taught me that when I appear unwell, I am unlovable and a threat to society. It pushed me to isolate myself more, and eating disorders often thrive in isolation.

I am learning that I am lovable—when I’m struggling, when I’m doing well, and everywhere in between. Reese has been a great teacher in helping me see that. This photo captures his teaching style well.