Category: The Best Me

I like meeting new people.

When I meet them, I introduce myself as Jen: writer, panda obsessed,  jelly bean fanatic, only child, dedicated gym member, lover of love.

I never introduce myself as Jen: woman recovering from her eating disorder.

But that is a part of who I am.

Jen: the Anorexic/Bulimic

I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t self-conscious about how I looked.

I have constantly worried about how my body appears in (and out) of my favourite clothes. I have spent a lot of time, over so many years, criticizing every inch and curve of my skin in every mirror and window and other reflective surfaces that I pass by.

I have told myself that I’m not good enough. Not pretty enough. Not as beautiful as everyone tells me I am.

I have convinced myself that I need to be perfect*

I stressed so hard about how I looked, I made myself very sick.

Jen: Shy, Silent, Scared.

There was a time in my life, just a few years ago, where my eating disorder ruled my life:

Wake up, binge, purge, cry myself to sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. 

It was an endless cycle I couldn’t find my way out of, and it turned me into a miserable and incredibly depressing human being.

I was keeping this huge secret of bad habits, and holding this guilty obsession about achieving perfection. It filled me with a toxic energy that horribly affected everything in my life.

I was scared of myself and my addiction, and potential judgement of everyone. I didn’t want anyone to know about all of it, so I hid my fear behind fake smiles and false positivity.

Therefore, no one seemed to fully understand why I was so unhappy.

My parents worried. My best friends were concerned. My boss knew there was something wrong.

Eventually, all that bad energy put a halt on my career. My sense of hopelessness contributed to a crushing breakup.

All of it completely changed my life.

Let’s talk about it.

I spent a lot of time struggling alone.

I was too scared to say anything. I was ashamed. I was so embarrassed. The thought of telling someone about what I was going through was extremely daunting.

In my head, I thought: “You did this to yourself. YOU have to fix it.”

THIS IS NOT TRUE.

I truly believed that this awful ordeal was my responsibility, but I also knew that I was incapable of turning it around by myself.

I had tried, and had always fallen back into the cycle: Binge, purge, cry, sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I decided that I could stay silent, and likely put myself into the express lane to my ultimate death. Or, I could try speaking up… and hope for the best.

^ that sentence makes it sound easy, but it was not. AT ALL.

I decided to tell an old friend. It was someone I didn’t talk to all the time, but trusted and held a special place in my heart for. I remember standing in his kitchen, looking into his eyes, and taking a deep breath… then pausing and debating not saying anything at all.

But, as much as I wanted to be skinny and beautiful and look just like a flawless magazine cover model…

I wanted to be happy. And healthy. And enjoy my life, rather than put an end to it.

It took 4 years, but I found the courage to tell one person. The next day, I used that courage to tell three of my best friends. A few days later, I still had enough courage left to tell my mother.

And to my surprise, none of them judged me or shamed me or told me how disappointed they were.

Being honest with those 5 people was the turning point, and the first step in my recovery. It was followed by a few more baby steps, where I started to be truthful with other people and soon realized I wasn’t the only one who struggled.

I found out that friends, old coworkers, acquaintances, and so many other people were fighting the same battle. There were so many people I crossed paths with at so many points in my life who struggled with anxiety, depression, and toxic addictions to food and their body – just like me.

I quickly learned that I wasn’t alone.

By connecting with them, they weren’t alone anymore.

None of us are alone.

I don’t make a point of publicizing my issues, all the time.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important to me to talk about them.

If I never chose to open up to even just one person about the downward spiral I was stuck in, I might not be here to write this blog post and share my story with you.

If you’re fighting yourself, inside your head > this is for you:

I know that it’s scary to open up about dark secrets and demons that haunt us from the inside. Being vulnerable and honest about your biggest fears is terrifying.

But trying to fight your battles alone, and inevitably killing your soul in the process, is a frightening thought.

No one should have to endure that. Life is too good and too short to suffer this way.

Those monsters in your head – you didn’t put them there. This is not your fault.
You are not responsible for battling this all by yourself.

If I’ve learned anything in my journey to recovery thus far, it’s that exposing who I really am – good and bad – has improved my life immensely. It’s allowed me to connect with people (many who I now consider great friends) that understand and empathize with my struggle. These are people who inspire me, who I admire, who I can talk to when I’m feeling good, bad, happy, sad, or just absolutely frustrated with the tortured thoughts inside my head.

Talking about my troubles has always been one of the best decisions I have made.

Let’s keep talking

A few years ago, I made a choice to tell one person: I have a problem. I’m struggling with an eating disorder.

These days, when it really matters, I tell people: I am in the process of recovering from anorexia and bulimia.

It matters today.

You and me. We’re going to be better, stronger, and we’re going to be okay.

We just need to keep talking about it.