We all have that one moment in our lives in which we made a poor decision, one which, assuming we had access to a time machine, we would gladly go back and undo. That moment is vivid in my memory, and it happened when I was twelve, when one seemingly harmless decision essentially screwed up whatever good I had going for the next few years of my life. In the hope this saves one or two people from falling into the same trap, here’s a little bit of the story of how I (re)learned how to eat ice cream, and other important lessons.
I don't know who "they" are, but apparently they say humor is the best medicine, and I wholeheartedly agree. A heavy dose of humor is exactly what's needed to keep this crazy, bassackwards world of us nutcases (almost) making sense. However, there is a line. I hate completely insensitive jokes.
Among insensitive jokes, I especially hate those told by people who clearly don't understand the subject matter of their little "joke." This isn’t just something I am throwing out there to have something to complain about. I have actually gone into work and been forced to spend my day surrounded by co-workers who entertained themselves by chatting about their latest, useless fad diets and amused themselves with jokes like, “I wish I could be ‘one of those people’ who could eat whatever and just throw it up.” Thoughts? Um...No, you absolutely do not f*cking wish that!
Now, I understand no one intended any harm in this situation. Still, this revealed a huge amount of ignorance on their part, and it physically made me sick listening to people talk about such a potentially life-threatening mental battle so nonchalantly. Nobody just wakes up one day and instantly becomes "one of those people," whatever the heck that means. While I do understand there is some personal responsibility over the actions leading up to a full-blown eating disorder, it’s not as if anybody simply wakes up one morning and experiences those thoughts and obsessive compulsions out of nowhere.
Another culprit of this type of ignorance and glorification of eating disorders is the media. I’ve seen more than my fair share of skinny, bitchy, conceited antagonists eating nothing but salad and having food forced upon her by giggling friends who tease, “C’mon. You’ll just throw it up later.” The fact this is how eating disorders are portrayed in popular movies watched by thousands if not millions of audience members is astounding. The glorification of something so harmful, whether by co-workers or friends or screenwriters is absolutely no laughing matter. To be fair, there are plenty of movies specifically about eating disorders which do portray a fairly accurate representation of what can happen, so I'm not advocating a ban on social media by any means. After all, I'm using it right now to share this piece of writing. However, the average person who doesn't have or know anyone struggling with an eating disorder probably won't go out of his or her way to find a movie specifically about the subject. Therefore, the exposure they are gaining is through popular movies and shows in which the subject is introduced generally as a joke or as a character flaw. Either these types of references to the issue need to stop, or they need to become more accurate. With all of this being said, let’s talk about eating ice cream.
I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the combination of French fries and ice cream is essentially the Holy Grail of food. It’s the perfect combination of sweet and salty, one of the greatest achievements of mankind, perhaps. If I could find someone special enough with whom to share a big bowl of vanilla ice cream and perfectly cut, warm, slightly crispy wedges of potato, it would be a dream come true (are you out there, future husband)? At the very least, it’s good stuff and used to be one of my favorite go-to treats...but that went away a little before my thirteenth birthday, when this pain in the butt called anorexia decided to waltz into my life with the answers to all my problems. I think we had gotten to the eating disorders unit in my middle school health class by then, but according to the video we'd watched, anorexia meant starving yourself and being emaciated and having everybody always concerned about you and lying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube or something. I still ate a few things, so I honestly had no idea there was a problem. All I knew was French fries, ice cream, and actually almost everything was on my "bad list" and if I ate anything on that list, I had a mental breakdown and felt like I was having a heart attack. Still wish you were "one of those people?"
To shorten what is already a very long story, I eventually "recovered" on my own with a lot of prayers and started eating again. The "bad list" in my head just sort of disappeared and I felt like everything was going okay. Unfortunately, this didn't last all that long. Within a year, the same anxiety resurfaced, and again I responded by restricting, only this time I couldn't keep it up and I'd wind up binging almost every night. Anyway, at some point I decided I couldn't just keep doing this without somehow making up for it. Let's just leave that bit to your imagination, but if you know what bulimia is, you know what I'm talking about, and I don't really suggest it (I mean, unless you just really like the attention; you could use it as a unique party trick, I guess...).
Skipping ahead to college, the whole being away and left to my own devices while still having no idea how to go about doing something as simple as eating like a normal person turned out not to be so great for me. Things got quite a bit worse, so it's a miracle I passed everything, though not without study group sessions at four in the morning.
At some point, I was done. I am done. There are too many reasons to get out of this rut. I've already wasted years I can't get back, and can't even remember; they're mostly just tainted by the same messed up thought processes. I have a lot of goals I fully intend to accomplish, I'll be twenty in a few short months, and this thing has controlled me for long enough. It's time to give that control back to God, because I'm not strong enough to do any of this, or anything at all for that matter, without Him.
The funny thing about bulimia is…huh, I can't think of anything...funny how that works. In all honesty, it just isn't a fun topic. Nobody really wants to talk about it, and I'm pretty sure nobody really wants to hear the details, so please, if you ever make comments like "You'll throw it up anyway" or "I tried to be anorexic for a few hours," just stop now and forevermore. It's one thing to joke about a serious matter; it's quite another to make a joke of a serious manner. If you don't understand the difference, look it up.
Let me explain briefly:
"I wish I could starve myself like you." -Not okay and not funny.
"I was thinking of organizing a hot dog relay for bulimia awareness, but decided to write this article instead." -Okay, not that funny but I tried.
To be able to use a light-hearted, somewhat humorous perspective in order to share my own experiences enough to help someone else is the goal here. Humor, like any other medicine, is meant to be used as instructed and in the correct dosage. Keep that in mind next time you crack a joke. If you're making a joke of something the person next to you could be struggling with, it's probably best to keep it in your head. I think by keeping my head up and laughing at almost everything, I managed not to completely lose it...maybe I already did, actually; that's debatable, though.
Even though I wouldn’t call myself “recovered” just yet, I am tired of hearing people end their story with, “This is something I’ll always have” or “This will always be my struggle.” No, it won’t. That defeatist attitude I find downright depressing. Nobody said it was going to be easy, but it sure as hell isn’t impossible. God had a bigger purpose for my life than letting me starve myself to death before I was thirteen, and that's why I'm still here. I’m going to continue to seek help and I’m not going to stop sharing my story until every last person I can reach knows he or she is loved by God and doesn’t have to struggle through anything alone.
Everybody thinks they’re alone when something bad happens in life, even though everybody is feeling alone. Hopefully, you realize the implication of this statement. You probably feel alone, but you aren't. If any of this really hits home, please don't brush it off, and please don't lose yourself for the sake of an addiction that will drain you of life. You weren't made for this; you were made for so much more, and even if I don't know you, I'm working on this right alongside you. Lastly, every human being struggles, and you're not a "defective believer" if you're a Christian struggling with an eating disorder. You're also not the only one who's ever thought that way, but there are no "defective Christians." Seriously, it's not a thing. I promise. I did my research.
No, it won’t be easy, but I promise it is going to be worth it.
“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33
P.S. "If you slip up, don't give up." -wise words of encouragement from one of my favorite people
