When I was 12, I began to count my calories. I saw the girls on magazine covers boasting about their amazing new diet, and began comparing myself to the skinny girls in my classes.

I wanted to be liked by everyone, wear tight fitting Aeropostale T shirts, and Pac sun shorts. I felt self-conscious in my clothes, and I had just gotten over a stage of wearing nothing but baggy clothes in order to cover up my “fat.” I was not overweight at the time, and I definitely did not need to diet. At first, it was just something that I did for the heck of it, and my calculations were not even entirely accurate. I would eat the same amount of food that I had always eaten; the only difference was that I occasionally recorded some of what I ate in a food diary. After about a year of doing it, however, things had changed drastically. I no longer only wrote down some of what I ate, and my calculations became far more accurate. I began to measure out everything that I ate, from blueberries to ketchup. Before meals I would grab a tablespoon and measure out the sauce that I planned on adding to my food. I was so terrified that I would inaccurately count my calorie intake

Soon, I was measuring my daily intake of fats, carbohydrates, and proteins too. Eventually, I began to measure out my water intake in order to get myself to drink exactly 8 cups every day. I cut my calorie limit from 2,000 calories a day, to 1,200. As I began to see positive results, I cut them down even further. I remember feeling so proud of myself every time I made it through a day with under 1,000 calories. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, I was at the same weight that I had been at in the 6th grade. I had experimented with various dieting techniques, most of which were not healthy. In fact, the summer before my sophomore year, I had several close calls that resulted in seeking medical attention. At that point, I was struggling with both bulimia and anorexia, and I was often dizzy. I would experience “bloating” whenever I allowed myself to eat regular sized meals, or at least I felt that I did at the time. I began to perceive a full stomach as a fat stomach. At a field trip to General Mills, I passed out and had to be helped out by a crew of EMTs. I remember trying to play it off as a random incident, but I knew that there was more to it than I was saying. My grades began to slip when I could not focus as well in class, and my progress in swimming was also negatively impacted due to my weak state. I didn’t want to tell my coaches or teachers, so I tried to push myself even harder to cover up the fact that I was struggling, and it ended up making things worse.

A few of my friends knew about my problem, but the majority played it off as a phase I was going through. I remember overhearing one of them saying to another classmate that I was just doing it for attention, and that I was fine. She said that she had seen me eat large quantities of food after getting home from school, and she wasn’t wrong about this. I did in fact let myself “binge eat” sometimes, when my cravings and hunger got too strong. But what she didn’t know was that when she left my house, I would sometimes throw up the food I had just splurged on. I saw my full stomach and let myself feel guilty about it. I let myself think about what would happen if I let all of those calories into my body, and I would panic. I hated doing it, but I was weak, and I let the fear of what would happen get the best of me. In these moments, I felt so low, completely powerless and worthless. I hated what I was doing and knew that it was wrong, but I feared the alternative (gaining weight and hating myself) even more. I cried every single time that I ever made myself puke.

Although my mom worried about me counting my calories, it wasn’t until she overheard a conversation that I had been having with a friend about how I could just “throw it up later if I ate too much” that I truly got help. At a doctor’s appointment my sophomore year of high school, I was told that I should stop calorie counting, and for a while, I did. I was truly happy after removing the My Fitness Pal app from my life, but after a few months, I began to gain back some of the weight I had lost. Looking back, this was a good thing, but I had learned to fear the number on the scale. I tried to ignore the ache I felt whenever I looked in a mirror, but I couldn’t help but feel disgusted with myself. Whenever I tried to eat the meals that my mom cooked for me or the school lunched provided to me, I felt like I would gain extreme amounts of weight, and I became genuinely fearful whenever I allowed myself to eat these delicacies. I also began avoiding social events because I feared eating out.

I continued to struggle and my junior year of high school I went to see a counselor. She talked to me about the things that I was scared of, and what factors may have influenced my fear of gaining weight. I spent the majority of my appointment crying and feeling anxious about talking to her about something that I shouldn’t have been doing. She helped me to see that it was common for girls my age to feel the same way as me. She did not, however, help me cure my problem. I knew that no matter how many times she told me that I was not fat, I would never believe her. I doubted that she would ever be able to help me, and I didn’t want to waste my parent’s money on a lost cause when it was my own fault for feeling the way that I did. In fact, I felt that nobody could help me. I was constantly asking people if I looked fat, or telling them that I thought I looked fat, and when they denied that this was true, refused to believe anyone. I would beg people to be “honest” with me, and to tell me the truth about what I looked like. Yet when they told me, I felt that they were lying. It wasn’t long before I resorted back to my old habits, and until my sophomore year of college, I continued to count my calories.

My freshman year of college, however, I began to count my calories in a “healthier” way. I had been dating my current boyfriend for about a year at this point, and I had told him about what I had been doing to myself. He let me talk to him about what I was feeling, and comforted me when I got anxious about what I was eating. He didn’t pressure me to change, but he helped to encourage me to make smarter choices. I allowed myself to eat more, and instead of limiting how much I ate, I made myself eat salads, chicken, fruits, seafood. I learned that I could consume more calories, as long as the calories that I was consuming were not coming from unhealthy foods. I splurged on weekends when we visited my family or his family, I let myself eat out, and I even let myself enjoy dessert on special occasions. Instead of puking when I ate a lot, I would simply exercise. This strategy worked for a while, but developed into another problem shortly after.

I began running several miles every day, spending hours in the gym after my classes. Some days, I would swim at the University’s pool after running, lift weights, or hop on the stair treadmill. At first, I didn’t even realize that it was becoming an obsession. I wasn’t too thin, and I was maintaining a constant weight since I was eating a lot more. I didn’t look smaller in my opinion. In fact, I still felt self-conscious about the excess fat on my body. But the problem was no longer concerning my physical appearance. The problem was that I would not allow myself to miss a day of working out. On days when I had classes, followed by exams that did not end until 10pm, I would force myself to work out until midnight. If it came down to studying for a quiz, sleeping, eating, or working out, I always prioritized working out. On days when I had to go to class and work, followed by a hospital shift until midnight, the gym would close before I could get there. These days I would get so anxious about missing a workout, that I would walk around in the dark outside trying to burn calories before going to bed. I wasn’t necessarily causing my body physical harm anymore, as I was not losing too much weight, but I was draining myself mentally. I had simply replaced my obsession with food with an obsession for exercise.

The summer before my sophomore year of college, I realized that I had simply diverted my attention away from food, and replaced the constant anxiety I had over it with an anxiety directed towards exercise. I got a Planet Fitness membership, and while I still worked out most days, I started letting myself take occasional breaks. I forced myself to rest on Sundays at first, and then eventually started skipping a few days throughout the week, as well. I learned that I did not gain weight by doing this, and that I actually felt healthier and more energetic. I still got anxiety occasionally, but I had found that I didn’t need to force myself to be perfectly healthy every single day. This does not mean that I had discovered the perfect meal and workout plan, or that I was cured of the thoughts that had been plaguing me for so long. I still struggled to make decisions regarding exercise, and food, but it was a step in the right direction.

Even now, I continue to struggle with weight. I weigh myself, run 2-3 miles, and weightlift almost every single day. I get worried whenever the scale gets above 120lbs, and I sometimes have days where I get angry with myself for having a piece of birthday cake or a slice of pizza. I will probably never be completely free of the disorder that has become such a big part of my life. I can still feel the remnants of the problem I faced for so many years, and yet I know that I will always come out on top. I no longer let food control my life, and I try my best to not let a missed workout or cheat meal give me anxiety. I truly believe that I can lead a healthy and happy life without constantly monitoring everything that I eat someday. I have come so far, and I will only continue to improve.

I hope that my story can help other girls that have gone through a similar experience realize that they are stronger than any food or exercise addiction, and recognize that they have a problem. Eating disorders do not always entail near-death experiences or dangerously low weights. It includes situations like mine, where food controls your life, and negatively impacts your mental health. I think that it’s sometimes easy to make excuses for yourself and say you don’t have a problem, simply because you aren’t appearing to be too skinny or unhealthy on the outside. I want young girls to know that what they are feeling is something that many girls feel, and that I can relate to them. I know that sometimes it seems impossible to see yourself as beautiful and to block out the feelings that arise when you look at yourself in a mirror, but someday you will get through it. Someday you will look in a mirror and realize that your body is amazing and capable of so many great things, just like I did. We are all born with unique bodies with imperfections and we can’t fix everything about them. I finally understand that instead of spending my life devoting all of my time and effort trying to fix something that doesn’t need to be fixed; I should be enjoying my family and friends and bettering myself in other ways.

To anyone that is struggling, here are some resources that I wish I had known about. I hope that if my story does not help you in some way that maybe these can.

Diabulimia Hotline 24 Hour Hotline (425) 985 - 3635

Binge Eating Disorder Association : https://bedaonline.com/

Healthy Weight Network: http://www.healthyweight.net/