eating
Dispel judgement, debunk the myths and correct the misconceptions you hold about eating disorders.
Esmerelda, Pt.1
The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was doubled over in my bed, on top of the blanket, with my knees tucked in close to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. My knuckles were white from gripping so tightly. Seconds later, I released my legs and laid flat on my back, staring longingly at the ceiling through the blurry window of my tears. I rolled onto my left side, again tucking my knees into my chest, and for a moment, I gave into the pain, letting my head lull on the pillow, feeling the tightness in my chest increasing. It was three in the morning and I knew I had to get up early for work, but nothing would make the pain stop, or even ease. I had experienced this same pain on two other occasions in the last 6 years, and I think it could be likened to heartburn, but I imagine much, much worse. It felt like there was something trapped inside of my rib cage, right at the bottom, where the left side meets the right. This ‘something’ seemingly wasn’t sure whether it wanted to be in or out, because it would tighten one minute, and then the next minute it felt like it was pushing against my rib cage, almost to breaking point. The scariest part is that it was so painful to inhale, and every breath seemed to become shorter and more strained. I had tried heartburn relief when I experienced this pain before, with no luck. During this specific episode, I was blinded by pain and must have dosed myself with a questionable number of ibuprofen tablets, but nothing helped. It was mid March in England, absolutely freezing, and yet I had droplets of sweat pouring out of my skin at an alarming rate. The last time I experienced this same pain, I was with my ex-boyfriend, who was aware of what I was going through, and so I felt safe knowing that if I needed to go to the hospital, he was there to take me. This time, I was alone. I had moved to the UK late December in a ‘quarter-life-crisis’ fashion, hoping to see some of the world while gaining some career experience. I guess I was technically not alone, as I lived in a dark and dingy share house with 6 other people who I barely knew (constantly closed bedroom doors never did lead to building those ‘lifelong friendships’ that people always rave about after going traveling). Regardless of the other inhabitants residing in the High Wycombe icebox we called ‘home’, I had never felt more alone and terrified. I was conflicted; the rational part of me knew that the pain would eventually subside, as it had done in the past, and that I had to ‘stop chucking a wobbly’ (classic dad term for throwing a tantrum) and get on with it; the two other sides of me were arguing back and forth between calling out for help from one of the sleeping strangers in the house, and just accepting that I was going to die. None of my thoughts won that battle. I am not entirely sure how I got to sleep, whether the ibuprofen eventually did its job or I passed out from the pain, but either way I have a vivid memory of seeing the numbers 5:49 light up as I tapped my phone before drifting off and thinking...fuck.
By Kelly Lindsay6 years ago in Psyche
Understanding Anorexia Nervosa
Anorexia is an eating disorder characterized by weight loss, difficulties maintaining a healthy weight, and oftentimes, a distorted body image, and it actually isn’t about food at all. In reality, this disorder is an unhealthy and possibly life-threatening way to cope with emotional issues surrounding a negative body image and poor self worth. At any given moment, 0.4% of young women and 0.1% of young men will suffer from anorexia nervosa.
By Shaley Speaks6 years ago in Psyche
The Pandemic vs. My Eating Disorder
I swore to myself I wouldn’t talk about having an eating disorder. Especially after I ‘recovered’ (aka – I gained weight so nobody could tell anymore). I tried to shake it off of me as if it was some embarrassing phase where photos were the only evidence that it existed – to get rid of it like it wasn’t apart of me. But it’s a mental illness – you don’t recover from it, it doesn’t just leave – things just become more muted? Throughout the years I’ve tried to keep it away from lovers and friends but I love to drink and eventually, I tell someone and then the closer I get to them the harder it is to hide it. The bad habits start to emerge, the weird relationship with food, the nasty comments about myself, and the endless cycle of dieting.
By Madison Brooke6 years ago in Psyche
Bulimia Belly
I wake up in intense pain. My physical body was aching with unbelievable sensation that it had almost rotten away during the few hours of the night. My eyes stuck together momentarily as I awaken, the dry tears from the previous night stung. I lifted my heavy head and body out of bed and dragged myself towards the dresser. I couldn’t think of anything worse than going to school that day, but I had to push myself. The extra steps are exactly what will get me back on track.
By Abbey Dowden6 years ago in Psyche
I am Anorexia
ED trigger warning...read with caution. This is only to show how an eating disorder like anorexia consumes one's mind. Let me introduce myself, I am anorexia. I slowly began to make myself known. Want to start a diet? You'll have to know the numbers. You let me know you bit by bit until we are attached at the hip. I become you until you no longer are yourself. Your family and friends won't recognize you. Very soon you will no longer recognize yourself as you slowly disappear in black and white.
By Madeline Keys6 years ago in Psyche
An inanimate object controlled my life.
i never knew that an inanimate object could be my biggest enemy. it’s digital numbers and cold glass front give me chills every time i stepped on it. closing my eyes praying the numbers would go down. breathe i tell myself as i look at the numbers. just breathe. “it’s okay” is the first thing i say as i try to calm myself. the numbers went up instead of going down. “i’ll just skip lunch or maybe eat half of dinner” is a common phrase i think while reassuring myself that i WILL go down again. Every time i start to feel hunger, i tell myself i will go another jean size up, anyway i feel prettier when i’m hungry. pretty hurts, right? i first got the idea of “skinny” when i heard the doctor say 127 pounds. Chills ran down my spine as i heard these horrifying words. i felt i had to do something. i couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I was disgusted. slowly, i stopped eating. inch by inch, i started losing weight. i loved how i looked after the first few shedded pounds. i need to lose more to look picture perfect. my clothes started fitting loose and my face started looking thinner. people started noticing, and i loved it. questions started flooding in, “how did you lose weight to fast?” “just changed my diet”, i would say. i couldn’t let anyone know my secret. but there were consequences to my actions. i would often feel week and i would get sick very easily. the dark circles under my eyes became more visible and i was easily fatigued with doing minimal activity. soon, my collar bones became visible and so did my rib cage. i looked sort of scary. it’s not enough. not till i looked like a bobble head i told myself. i thought maybe if i was skinny, boys would like me. all my friends had boys begging on their knees for them, but I didn’t. I wanted to make all my friends envy me. all I want is to be beautiful. all I want is for a boy to look at me like i’m the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen. but they don’t. so i’ll try my best to make them. when girls talk about their boyfriends, it makes me very insecure. almost as if nobody notices me. it sounds shallow i know, but there’s this longing. it’s just stays in my heart, and it won’t go away
By Chloe Robles6 years ago in Psyche
"I Only Eat Yellow Things"
Most kids are fussy with food at some point or another in their childhoods. I always tried to pretend that's what I was; "fussy". Except I took it to the extremes and would barely touch anything that didn't have a concrete certificate of approval, and even then the conditions had to be just right. My mum and dad were always brilliant and exotic eaters so it wasn't like I wasn't exposed to a vast culinary choice. I just could not bring myself to try new things, no matter how hard and tirelessly my parents tried. They took me to doctors and kept me off school to try and crack the problem. They tried being nice, they tried being harsh, shouting, pleading, every single trick in the book and beyond, but nothing anyone said could ever sway me to even hold new foods, let only taste them. I couldn't explain it, it just felt wrong. The very idea of putting anything new in my mouth overwhelmed me, like I might die. I truly would have rather gone hungry than just give something a go.
By Louisa Jane6 years ago in Psyche
Always a Part of Me
Dinner parties are really fun, until you are forced to have family dinner with 5 other families who you've never met in the stuffy back room of an eating disorder clinic. Weeks prior to this get-together, my mother had told me that she wanted me to go to Walden Behavioral Care to, “get skills to cope with eating disorder behaviors” which at the time I thought was a load of bull, now I can at least admit and recognise that I did, and do have an eating disorder. Took me a while to admit that.
By Kyleigh Keovilay6 years ago in Psyche










