By Jocelyn Resnick, MPH CHES
Let’s start with dieting. We’ve all been there. Wanting to lose a few pounds, trying some quick fixes, growing more and more frustrated when the weight comes back. Sound familiar? If you answered yes, then you probably know: Being on a diet is not fun. “A diet” could mean anything from restricting certain food groups to avoiding social situations to becoming obsessed with counting calories and limiting fat.
There’s a fine line between dieting and disordered behavior, and it gets crossed all too often. In fact, according to the National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA), more than thirty million Americans will struggle with an eating disorder at some point in their lives.
The dieting industry is a multibillion-dollar business. It works hard to convince us we are not good enough, so we’ll buy into weight-loss products. More often than not, whatever diet we invest in fails, and we gain the weight back. Who feels better at the end of this?
Soon after I turned fifteen, the dieting industry won, and I started my first commercialized weight loss program. I had gained a little extra weight during my adolescence (as many girls naturally do) and decided I wanted to lose ten pounds. Little did I know, my innocent diet was about to turn into a rollercoaster of disordered eating.
Trigger Warning*
Ten pounds quickly turned to twenty pounds, and just like that, I had developed every symptom of anorexia nervosa. Within a year, I had lost more than thirty pounds. With that weight loss, my metabolism slowed, I lost a great deal of muscle, developed low bone mineral density, and never had an appetite. Oh, and my menstrual cycle stopped.
Yet, the compliments were rolling in. “You look amazing,” was a message I heard over and over, and interpreted as “you used to look fat.” So I kept restricting. My mind was fixated on calories, and nobody could understand why.
I didn’t realize under-eating had an impact and was inflicting consequences on my health. My body had gone into a fat-preserving zone, and I had become deficient in vitamins and minerals my body needed to function. Even though I had achieved my weight-loss goals, I certainly was not happy. My brain could not think about anything but food. What did I eat at my last meal? What did I plan on eating next? Did I need to cut down on a certain food group? I was always cold and tired. Eating out became a stressor. I even remember crying while on vacation after learning sugar-free ice cream still contained calories. Seriously, who wants to live like that?
At my annual checkup, my doctor noticed I had lost a significant amount of weight. Instead of referring me to a therapist who specialized in eating disorders, she told me to come back in a week so she could continue to monitor my weight. The unfortunate truth was that my doctor was doing what she thought was best.
Healthcare professionals receive minimal training in eating disorders and holistic health in medical school, and yet situations similar to mine are far too common. In fact, physical weight is not always a predictor for an eating disorder. There are many cases where individuals maintain a higher weight and still struggle with anorexia nervosa and associated disorders.
One day, I said to hell with restricting, and I began bingeing. I had turned a full one-eighty. I trained my body to eat even when I was not hungry. After being deprived for so long, my metabolism was out of whack, and I began gaining weight quickly. To me, gaining weight was better than constantly obsessing over calories, so I kept eating. With time, I had changed my neural pathways to eat out of every emotion that was not hunger. This is referred to as binge eating disorder. My doctors were concerned with the weight gain and misdiagnosed me with polycystic ovarian syndrome, also referred to as PCOS. They treated me as a prediabetic rather than an individual with an eating disorder. Thus, disordered eating became my new normal.
I began to relearn nutrition in my junior year of college. I was taking health and wellness classes at Binghamton University, where I learned to view food as fuel and physical activity as strength. I learned about Health at Every Size® (HAES) and Intuitive Eating (IE). My classmates began to speak openly about their personal battles with food, and I saw that my story wasn’t unique. It was actually pretty common. With time, I began changing my behavior and started loving myself enough to live a healthy lifestyle.
But I was not healed. For years afterward, I thought I had found recovery in college. I was so very wrong. I was brainwashed by society into thinking counting calories and excessive cravings were “willpower issues,” and my higher weight was a reflection of my “lack of self-control.” I was lying to myself, and I was lying to everyone around me. I continued to believe struggling with my weight was something I would have to do forever. Until I relapsed.
When I moved to Atlanta in September 2017, I relapsed so badly that I had no choice but to ask for help. I went through five therapists until I found somebody who could really help me navigate recovery. Many clinicians told me they specialized in eating disorders, but I was continuously triggered by their practices. (It is important to ask your clinicians if they use an HAES and IE approach.)
Once I finally found the right one, we revisited many pieces of my past. I realized that while I had been learning about intuitive eating in college, I was also learning about body composition and weight management. I was receiving mixed messages about what it meant to be healthy. I know now health is not correlated with weight, and beauty is only a construct of society. There is nothing wrong with being fat. It is society that gives fat a negative connotation.
I learned to focus on my behaviors rather than the number on the scale. I learned about the power of self-compassion, and nourishing my body with fruits, veggies, ice cream, and pizza was essential to a balanced life. I learned physical activity was not about calories, weight loss, or bikini bodies; rather, it was about pushing myself because I was worth it.
With my therapist, I visited past traumas. I allowed myself to take the power back and to stop internalizing difficult situations. I also learned how to identify when other people were projecting their own insecurities onto me. Not only did recovery give me my life back; it brought me a better life.
Today, I classify myself as an individual in long-term recovery. I do believe in full recovery from an eating disorder. With that being said, it is not linear, and lapses happen along the way. I have decided to be honest with myself and allow a few years before I identify as being fully recovered.
My final words to you are, the struggle is so very real, and it’s OK. You are not alone. But if you are struggling, please ask for help. You are worth a life filled with love, belonging, purpose, and self-compassion. You deserve to be happy.
If you are experiencing symptoms similar to what I mentioned above, help is available. Call the NEDA helpline at (800) 931-2237.
I recognize that eating disorders are a social justice issue, and it was a privilege to receive adequate treatment. I use my recovery story to advocate for change. I have lobbied for eating disorder legislation and have educated individuals from healthcare providers to senators on the impact and mortality rate of eating disorders. I hope that one day, nobody will ever have to struggle with an eating disorder again.
Dear E.D.
Thank you for allowing me to find a community of people who have provided hope and inspiration. Thank you for showing me life is so much better without you, and prioritizing myself is not selfish but necessary. Thank you for showing me I am strong and resilient. Thank you for allowing me to create a career that inspires people to fight back against you. I needed something as awful as you to show myself there is beauty in life.
Sincerely,
Me