Reflection and Rebuilding

It's me again.
I know it's been a quick minute, but I have been dealing with some personal issues and trying to sort those out.
I have been doing a lot of soul searching while I've been away.

And though it is a tough, tough subject for me, I am ready to talk about it.

Now before I begin, this is going to be ugly. Super-ugly.
If you're not ready for that, by all means, please click the red X in the top right corner, I won't hold it against you!
I am writing this post in hopes to reach out to anyone who may have similar struggles as me.

Please, let this continue to be a judge-free zone.

To set the stage, let's float to this afternoon. One of my favorite things to do is sit in Barnes & Noble, sipping iced coffee, picking up a random book and going to town. I do this a couple of times a week.
I usually just grab any old book that looks interesting, and take the plunge, and, as the old saying goes "Never judge a book by it's cover."

Today, I picked up a book called "Letting Ana Go" and I bring it over the my coffee station and sit down before flipping to the back to see a brief summary. I stiffen at the words "She only wanted to loose a few pounds.... she couldn't stop... the feeling she got from getting thinner was addicting."
I'll stop there,
I'm sure by now you see where this is going.

That felt like a punch to the gut and my first instinct was to get this book away from me as fast as possible. It felt like the black cover was hot as coal, burning me.

But I decided to face myself and read this book.

Pause.

So,
I struggle with food. A lot. I have for the past two years. I can remember when it started, I can remember waking up in the middle of the night with the sentence "If you just stopped eating, everything would be better" crashing into the side of my skull, bouncing, and landing on the opposite side, just to repeat the endless process. I was 18, the summer before my freshman year in college.

I remember crying on my mom's bed when I told her of my night terrors and the look on her face. I wanted her to forget it as soon as I told her, I just wanted to say it out loud.

I'll never forget the look on her face when she surprised me later that night, hugging me from behind, and telling me that I was perfect how I am.


Four week ago, today, I made a roadtrip with two of my good friends to see our favorite band, The 1975. It was blazing hot. I stood outside for eight hours in the scorching sun to ensure that we would get the best seats in the place. Well.. I say seats lightly, because it was more like being squished between 500 other bodies, covered in sweat, barely breathing. But it was the best night of my life.
Even still, I dig into myself for the way I feel about my body.
But I saw a girl, probably fifty pounds heavy than me, rocking a bandeau on top of her short shorts.
You guys, she was beautiful. She was absolutely stunning, and I looked down at my white, white thighs and all of their imperfections, lifted my chin up, and danced the entire night, whether I jiggled or not. And I swear to God, Matty Healy smiled right at me that night.

The book starts with a girl named.. well now that I think about it, You never learned her name. So.. let's call her Anonymous. She was a cross country athlete with this dazzling sense of humor. This story is written like a journal, and her cheeky comments made me grin the entire time. In the beginning, she writes about her love for running, her outings with friends, her fun parents, her dad's dancing, her boyfriend Jack.
She had a beautiful, fulfilling life.
But she begins the downward spiral of counting calories and weighing in daily.
Under-eating and overexercising.

In April, when I decided to quit prepping for a competition, my dad was in town. He took me to Walmart and agreed to buy me food to exercise my new found food freedom. Briefly during that week, I had spoken to my dad about my struggles with food, but it's so hard to show someone what it's like inside your head. The never ending battle of you vs food.
It wasn't until he watched me, wide-eyed as I stood in the grocery isles at Walmart having a near-panic attack from trying to put food in the cart that I wasn't accustomed to. After eating the same thing everyday for seven months, it's hard to allow yourself anything else.

Giving up the prep meant so much more time to focus on the things I love, the things I need.
I needed friendships. Destiny is one of my closest friends, and I don't think she'll ever fully understand her importance in my transition. I shied away from food that I didn't know the nutrition facts of, I strayed away from trying new things.
Destiny has lived in this town her entire life, so it's safe to say she knows the cool food secrets that I had no idea about. She took me to these places and before I knew it, I was trying new things. The fear would creep up to the back of my throat, but I'd bite it back down. I started living again.

So Destiny, if you read this blog, thanks. Thank you so much.

Anonymous becomes friends with a girl who struggles with anorexia. Her name is Jill, and Jill pushes this disease on Anonymous like it's a sport. Soon it starts to seem like everyone is unknowingly encouraging her to loose weight, even though she starts this book so happy and so healthy. The combination of Jill, "You look go great, don't stop now" comments, and her own insecurities lead her to eat the smallest amounts she can, and run as far and fast as her body allows.

The second time I met with my counselor, she asked me to describe what it felt like when I had a breakdown. I proceeded to tell her of my worst one, which was only a week prior. I was watching the second season of My Mad Fat Diary (BEST SHOW EVAAAA) and Rae (Main Character) is sitting with her counselor (LOL at this irony) and he says to her,

"I want you to imagine a ten year old version of yourself.
Now this is the little girl who first believed she was fat and ugly and an embarrassment"

*This is the part where I grabbed my wine, straight from the bottle, baby.

"Now tell that little girl she's fat.
Tell that little girl she's ugly.
Now tell that little girl she's an embarrassment, and worthless, and useless."

*Sobbing

"Because that's what you do every single day to yourself."

*Crying too hard to efficiently breathe.


To challenge this above, with a positive thing I have journal, I found this hunk of gold.

"I find it comical when women think I care about:
-Stretchmarks
-If one titty if slightly bigger than the other
-Birthmarks
-Fat areas
-Bumps or discoloration
-Cellulite
-Sweat
-Morning breathe
-Human Flaws

If I have you naked in front of me and I am naked too, the only thing on my mind is where am I putting my mouth first."


So, Anonymous begins starving herself, and she creates the goal of fitting her athletic frame into a size two dress for her dance. She lands herself in the hospital once, and again the night she zips up the perfectly fitted dress.

At one of my jobs, we have these HIDEOUS, SKIN-TIGHT, UNFLATTERING uniforms. For the longest time, we never really had to wear them, the boss didn't care. Since I have quit prepping, I had gained weight back, naturally. I binged for a month straight before I started working on self control. My boss one day, decides that it is now official, we must start wearing our red uniform shirts.
I work in a gym.
I have gained weight.
People will see.
My first shift back, I sat in my car for ten minutes hyperventilating at the fact I had to walk inside in this shirt. I called my dad and he comforted me, but each time I go to work, even in the summer, I wear a jacket over the shirt.

Instead of eating a massive carton of ice cream, all at once, I can stop at a bowl, now. I am slowly learning self-control, and it feels amazing. Instead of weighing in every single day, I haven't touched the scale in over four months.

Anonymous is checked into a rehab center, and she starts to realize how much she was hurting herself and those around her. There is hope in the pages of her journal, she sees a recovery ahead, and she wants to beat anorexia.


I can remember a time where I was counting and exercising, when I overheard a family member whisper to another "She's obsessed."
And all I could think was, "How are you making my discipline and hard work into something negative?"
Maybe because I couldn't find anything good to say to my reflection.

I met a few artists at different shows in the last month. I wore high-waisted shorts to both occasions. I curled my hair, and put on some light make-up, and dare I say, I felt beautiful. And I got hit on.

Anonymous relapses. She drops back down to her lowest weight, and dies from cardiac arrest.

This book hit home. It's very real. This happens to people daily.
My little sister once said to me in a time I was struggling.
"Emma, your body loves you so much. It takes care of you, it is strong for you. Just love it back."

Holy shit. "Just love it back."
Such a simple concept has proven to be such a monumentally difficult task for me.

I look back through my old posts where I am so excited about my body and my life. It's easy to talk about your struggles when it seems like you're beating them.

I was the girl who grew up chubby but worked hard to be fit.
I was the girl who juggled three jobs, college, and still managed to work out everyday.
I was the girl who got e-mails everyday about the inspiration I gave to young women.

But who am I today, without all of those things?

I do not have a six pack, or even a flat stomach.
I go to counseling every week to work on my relationship with myself, and my relationship with food.
I struggle to get dressed sometimes, because nothing fits like it used to, but I still go to work, I still hang out with friends, and I still go on dates.
I have family, friends, and the most loving boyfriend in the world.

I saw myself in a lot of the pages of this book. I looked my demons in the eyes and saw how obsessing over food and your appearance can destroy all the good things in your life. And for what? Unrealistic goals and unsatisfaction?

I'm not saying that I have an eating disorder. I'm not saying that I suddenly cured of my issues by reading a book.
Some days I wake up and I count. I count every calorie.
Some days, I wake up and I take a deep breath, and I eat until I'm full, and I don't tear myself down over a burger.
Some days I eat everything in my path.

I'm not perfect.
But you know who I am today?

I am a fighter.