National Eating Disorders Awareness Week

Hi, everyone. Happy, happy Monday -- I do apologize for the lack of blog posts last week! Due to a bout of sickness, I was stuck in a fetal position in my bed, binge-watching the BBC's "Victoria," and sipping ginger tea; life doesn't always work in our favor, and we must roll with the punches. Luckily, I'm back to normal, and am so happy to return to blogging. Hopefully, you had a wonderful weekend, and are ready to steamroll your way through the next four marvelous days. Why are they going to be marvelous?

Well, because I say so. And also because, dear reader, this happens to be National Eating Disorders Awareness Week. If you've been visiting my little corner of the Internet for a while, or know me in person, you're likely aware that I'm a huge advocate for mental health and body positivity. A healthy state of mind is just as important, if not more important, than physical health (in my most humble opinion). I am of the fundamental belief that one-hundred push-ups a day are pointless if you are not happy with yourself. The problem is that mental health, especially in American society, is often overlooked or stigmatized. The whole "mental illnesses are a choice" spiel? Yeah. That makes me pretty darn frustrated. As do the ideas that eating disorders, which I shall be focusing on in today's post (just in case you didn't catch the hints), are solely concerned with an insatiable thirst for attention or a desire to be thin. A teenage girl who has suffered from an eating disorder, I am truly passionate about informing as many people as I can about them; only with open conversation and raw vulnerability can we begin to encourage understanding of eating disorders and work to overcome the culture surrounding them. Because as horrific as eating disorders like anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder, and countless others are, there is a silver lining. Recovery is possible. This is why I am such a fan of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week - it works to educate the general public, build a sense of community, and cultivate hope. Hope. Goodness, isn't that a beautiful thing?

The Google Dictionary defines an eating disorder as "any of a range of psychological disorders characterized by abnormal or disturbed eating habits." The website for the National Eating Disorders Association expands upon this simplistic denotation, stating "Eating disorders are serious but treatable mental and physical illnesses that can affect people of every age, sex, gender, race, ethnicity, and socioeconomic group. National surveys estimate that 20 million women and 10 million men in America will have an eating disorder at some point in their lives. While no one knows for sure what causes eating disorders, a growing consensus suggests that it is a range of biological, psychological, and sociocultural factors." Something that completely fascinates me about eating disorders is that they override the purpose of human existence. From a biological and evolutionary standpoint, the purpose of the human body is to survive and reproduce, so that the species may continue. Eating disorders quash this innate desire for survival, pitting the body against itself. Not only do eating disorders cause extreme troubles mentally, often caused by and contributing to crippling body image and confidence, but they have serious consequences in regard to the physical body. These difficulties range from hair loss to amenorrhea (a condition in which the menstrual cycle halts), to extreme osteoporosis. But they can also lead to death. According to the article "Eating Disorder Statistics," "Eating Disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness." In fact, a death stemming from an eating disorder happens every 62 minutes in the United States, and about 23 people will pass away per day because of disordered eating ("Facts About Eating Disorders: What The Research Shows"). This phenomenon is, needless to say, an incredibly vast problem. One of the reasons it is so difficult to tackle is because it is a mental illness. The danger in mental illnesses is that they cannot, at least at first, been visibly seen. But this makes them no less baleful or painful to the people who suffer from them.

During the summer months between seventh and eighth grade, I went on a road trip with my dad and sister across Colorado (my mom stayed home to look after the dogs). We stopped at beautiful state parks, like Mesa Verde, and marveled at the natural wonders the trip had to offer. As one does on vacation, we ate out a lot, and the food we enjoyed was rather delicious. I remember staying at a small bed and breakfast in Durango, where the owners would whip up a sumptuous dessert every night. My sister and I would savor the sugary treats, but I distinctly remember that my dad would not. You see, he had just started reading book upon book about the ketogenic diet. Figuring that he could do with losing some weight, he did some extensive research before deciding to give up most of the carbohydrates in his diet and up the amounts of healthy fats. I was intrigued by this. Based on the texts I'd read, some of which he recommended and others I found on my own, the ketogenic diet seemed to mimic the way the human body was designed to eat. And ketones in themselves? I found them to be absolutely captivating - a fourth macronutrient? Who knew! During one of the final days of our road trip, I decided to join my dad in his health adventure. I would not be going fully keto, but, I said, I would give up all grains and gluten. It would be an excellent reboot for my body. I was twelve-years-old.

For the first few months, my new way of eating was phenomenal! I had previously suffered from psoriasis and a bit of acne, all of which cleared up quickly. My energy levels seemed to skyrocket, I was sleeping better, and my workouts were yielding even better results. If the elimination of grains and gluten were having such an amazing impact on my body, I thought, what would full keto do? Surely, I would feel even better! And so I gave up sugar, both the processed sugars found in my mom's famous triple chocolate chip brownies and the natural sugars in the peaches that grow in my backyard. I started counting net carbohydrates - that is to say, the total number of carbohydrates in my food minus the grams of fiber. Simultaneously, I started eating less. This is not uncommon on the keto diet; as it is so full of rich foods, and the ketones I was producing caused my body to burn its own fat, I just wasn't hungry. There I was. Now thirteen-years-old, quickly growing smaller and smaller, but adamant that my way of eating was healthy. That I was healthy. That my mind was in a healthy place.

It wasn't, dear reader. Truth be told, I was in complete denial. For me, keto provided a sense of control in my life. I felt I was lacking that. Middle school was a rough time as it was, but I was in an accelerated academic program while playing the lead in the school musical, acting as the Lead Barrister in a hugely important mock trial, tap dancing every day, and engaging in strenuous amounts of weight training. I was sleeping almost as little as I was eating. Soon, I was constantly cold, wearing layers upon layers of sweaters. Practically all of my body fat was gone. My hair became brittle, and when I would lay in bed at night, I could feel all of my bones. Exhaustion preyed upon me like a plague, I was unhappy, and I couldn't concentrate. Amenorrhea developed in my feeble little body, as did early onset osteoporosis. This eating disorder I had developed? It was draining all of the joy out of my life; this was me, killing myself slowly. And please note - this is not an over-exaggeration, dear reader. I was starving myself.

Thirteen. Five feet, one inch tall. Eighty pounds. A BMI of 15.1. Although I was never formally diagnosed, I was suffering from anorexia nervosa and orthorexia, as evidenced by my abstinence from food and obsession with "health." By no means, however, am I discrediting being diagnosed by a medical professional - this is, of course, the best way to analyze one's symptoms and receive proper treatment. I did not receive this treatment. I recovered alone because eventually, I realized what I was doing to myself. I didn't quite remember who I was anymore. It was hard to recall what I liked to do, what I was good at, or why I woke up each morning. Not knowing who you are anymore? It was terrifying. It was my rock bottom and the catalyst for my recovery.

Now, I know that I was, in many ways, the embodiment of the "typical" eating disorder sufferer. White, female, very small, privileged enough to receive support from my family, and vocal about my experience, I am the kind of person that comes to mind when one thinks of disordered eating. But I cannot emphasize this enough; eating disorders have no face. They have no picture. They can affect anyone and everyone, despite age, gender, skin tone, background, and all other elements of one's identity. These silent killers do not discriminate. In order to end the stigma surrounding eating disorders, and all mental illnesses, we must recognize that they can afflict any human being. We must also understand that they are not, in any shape, way, or form, a choice. No one chooses to be ill. To despise themselves or feel unworthy in their own skin. Eating disorders aren't lifestyles, but actual, genuine afflictions that impact millions of people worldwide. National Eating Disorder Awareness Week presents an incredible opportunity for those suffering and recovering from eating disorders, including but not limited to anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, pica, purging disorder, rumination syndrome, orthorexia nervosa, feeding disorder, diabulimia, binge eating disorder, night eating syndrome, muscle dysmorphia, and eating disorders not otherwise specified, to tell their stories. To vocalize the struggles of their mental illnesses, but also to show strength in solidarity. To promote body acceptance and positivity. To encourage people to come as they are, and to be themselves.

Because here's the thing. Eating disorders (reading about them, learning about them, heck, even writing about them) are depressing. But they can be overcome. In the words of President Snow from "Hunger Games" (also known as the novel embodying the dystopian obsession of my pre-teen years), "hope is the only thing stronger than fear." This is such a powerful quote to me. It's simple, and it's from a book I read as an angsty eleven-year-old, but its impacts remain. Hope is stronger than fear. Very true. Very profound.

So here is how I would like to leave you all today - with a lovely little dose of hope, love, and encouragement. Please remember that you have every right to be a unique individual, to be the size, height, and weight that you are, and to own your gorgeously unique personality in a world that drools over conformity. Consciously defy these twisted societal expectations. Remember, diet culture tells us that by becoming small, we are finally worthy of fitting in. Of taking up space. And to that I say -- preposterous (in a Mary Poppins-esque British accent, of course)! Take up as much space as you want to. As you need to. You are worthy of it all, of the air in your lungs, the sunlight on your back, the space you fill with joy and love. Breathe in, breathe out. You are enough. This can be insanely hard to remember sometimes; in the United States of America, citizens are constantly exposed to consumerism and tactics telling us our lives are not good enough. Perhaps after buying that new Samsung QLED TV, with its minimal glare and reflection, Nano-crystal color, and Octa-Core processor, your life will be complete. The magazines tell us that by losing an extra twenty pounds, we will somehow be new and improved people. These industries prey upon our insecurities because, guess what, that's how they make money. We are tricked into wanting the newest, the best, the most recent. We are sold the unattainable idea of perfection.

But perfection doesn't exist. It never has, and I most certainly hope it never will, because our flaws are what make us interesting. The stretch marks on my legs? Evidence that I overcame my eating disorder. My chipped tooth? A souvenir of a Girl's On the Run Ice Cream Party gone wrong. Your imperfections are a part of your story. A part of what makes you, you. And I think that is sort of magical.

You are magical. And don't you ever forget it.

If you, or a loved one, are struggling with an eating disorder, please contact the National Eating Disorder Association Hotline at (800) 931 - 2237. Help and recovery are always options.

Happy National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, my friends. I wish you all the best and am sending my love and support to each and every one of you.
- Maya

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