When The Mirror Lies

By Benjamin

It’s like a plague, one you think cannot be cured. Was I destined to be in pain every waking moment? There are questions I ask myself daily, desperately seeking a way out. Eating disorders consume you, convince you you are in control, when in reality, it’s long lost.

In my culture, food plays a significant part. My mom’s homemade, fresh meals daily were a sign of her love for us. There came a day when I refused it. Once I got home from school, I grabbed a Granny Smith apple and ran to my room to study. At that time, it didn’t seem like a problem to me. “I’ll start eating clean”, I told myself. Lots of fruits, vegetables, and wholemeal bread. I told my mom that I want to pack my school lunch, so I’d be in control of what I consume. She noticed these small swaps in my diet but assumed it’s a phase I’ll grow out of.

I remember my classmates bringing pastries, while I was munching on carrots. The feeling was euphoric. Yes, I’m doing well, I’m healthy, I’m clean.

Being introduced to the internet at such a young age wasn’t helping either. I was on apps and forums, consuming disordered media. Looking at pictures of models, skeletal figures, and small food portions just to keep myself motivated. It became part of my routine to do these searches multiple times a day. I hated my body, and I hated how clothes looked on me. In the mirror, all I could see was a shapeless creature, a monster. A greedy monster. I wanted doughnuts and pasta and pizza, and cakes; however, I only allowed myself “clean” foods.

To be fair, years went by without me noticing. How am I already 17, still measuring my apples, still keeping such a heavy secret? I didn’t want people to know I was struggling, because I didn’t want treatment. Let me be skinny first, let me experience euphoria from fasting a little longer. Looking back, I had a small frame, but it wasn’t enough; it didn't seem enough. After years of depriving myself of nutrients, I started overeating. My body tried to compensate, to get as much fuel as it could to keep me alive. I felt out of control, so I tried several things to regain it back. Different methods of purging were introduced into my life. Self-induced vomiting, overexercising, laxative abuse. I’d take a ridiculous amount of laxatives to relieve the guilt of eating so much.

I remember the constant cramps, the crying, and the panic attacks. It was never enough. I needed to do more, since my reflection was still too big. Late-night runs, pushups in my room, and moving all the time became the way to go. Fasting constantly, running on empty, yet still torturing myself with exercise. I gained awareness that this is bad. Avoiding friends and family because food would be involved. Missing out on so many fun things. But I chose this life. I actively chose this every day when I skipped breakfast or hurt myself for being so disgusting. Constantly seeing numbers on my plate, I aim for the smallest intake to achieve a smaller number on the scale.

Growing up, I had neglectful parents, meaning I only felt cared for when I fell off a tree or scraped my knee. My eating disorder was fuelled by the need to be taken care of. They will love me when I’m sick; I just have to push harder for people to care. Let me tell you, this is all a lie. The right people will care and love you regardless of the number on the scale.

You might wonder where I’m at now. I’m 26, just recently decided to recover properly. There were attempts before, but then I didn’t have a support system. Now my partner is helping, my sisters, my mom came around, and my friends are all here to help me.

It is scary. My disorder was my home for 13 years. I still know how many calories are in one almond, 50g of my favourite pasta or that pineapple chocolate. Will I ever stop seeing numbers? Yes, that’s what people say. All I’m doing now is listening to my body. You want some soup? A cinnamon roll? I give myself what I need, or what I want.

You need to realise the sense of control your ED gives you is fake. The times you only had a black coffee while your friends got cakes were when your ED was in charge. This is a way to survive, not a way to live. You have to experience your cheeks hurting from laughter or crying on someone’s shoulder without feeling the need to self-destruct. Bad things will happen, life is not easy, but turning to your ED is like running back to a toxic ex. Do yourself a favour, and look for a way out, because there is one.

Recovery will be scary, stepping into the unknown. The best you can do is focus on your needs and wants. Do not deprive yourself of the joy food brings. Do not miss out on another birthday or Christmas dinner. You can take small steps to heal. Reintroduce breakfast to your life, and try to say yes to cravings. There’s nothing wrong with wanting certain foods; it doesn’t make you greedy, it makes you human.

At times, it’s so easy to wake up, to have cereal and move on with your day. However some occasions, you will find yourself crying over the same breakfast, not feeling strong enough to do it, which is fine. Sit back, reflect, ask yourself: “Will this get me closer to my goal?” The goal is recovery. The answer is always yes. You have to eat your way through recovery. Crying is allowed, since it’s new and it’s scary, but believe me, recovery is worth it.

If you have the option to see a professional, go for it. They might be able to provide a safety net for you in case the ones around you don’t. It is going to be a long and exhausting journey to get your life back, but you deserve to enjoy being alive.

At times, I miss the chest pains, how they validated my struggles. I miss the shivers, the weakness; however, now I know, I don’t need to be in survival mode to be loved. Love comes in all shapes, your partner making you a coffee in the morning, your mom making you your favourite dish. Do yourself a favour and do not reject these acts of kindness. The toughest thing I had to face in recovery was accepting that I’m loved. No matter my weight or if people can see my bones.

Another hard thing to face was weight gain. It happens, and it’s a good thing. Getting your body back to a healthy weight is needed. Embrace it, do not fear it.

If you’d take my advice, let me tell you. You are sick enough, you deserve recovery, you deserve happiness and all good things in life. Give yourself a chance to live. Jump into recovery and never look back. Find your support system, talk about your feelings, your fears, your hopes and eat. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and some fun snacks in between. Believe me, in a few years you’ll be thankful for choosing yourself.