EDucate for Eating Disorder Survivors Scholarship

I stepped off the ice after an unfavorable competition performance and spent the rest of my day replaying my routine and my mistakes. The next day at practice, my coach pulled me aside and said, "I think you need to lose weight". I was 13 years old. Growing up as a competitive figure skater and dancer, we are often pressured with nearly unrealistic expectations of how our bodies should look. My coach's reasoning for suggesting I lose weight was so my jumps would be higher and my spins would be faster. As an athlete in love with the sport, why wouldn't I want to live up to that expectation? It was going to bring me one step closer to being a professional figure skater, or so I thought. As a child, I had a naturally thin frame. Once puberty hit when I was 12 years old, my body changed. I became fuller in areas that have not seen body fat before. After being made aware of the extra weight I carried, I began making small changes such as refusing second helpings at parties and desserts. These small changes drastically turned into skipping meals, binging and purging, over-exercising, body dysmorphia, documenting every bite I took in a food diary, and feeling like I was never good enough for myself. I began to spiral out of control whenever I had a few spoonfuls of ice cream or a few bites of pizza. Having an eating disorder such as Anorexia Nervosa goes beyond not eating. For me, it was about feeling in control and obsessively modifying my body into what I considered "perfect". As my weight continued to drop and my bones began protruding against my skin, I found myself becoming more unhappy with the way I looked. It was never enough. Depression and anxiety also found their way into the majority of my young teenage years. I suffered from eating disorders for nearly 7 years of my life. I did not seek professional help, nor did I open up to anyone due to the stigma surrounding it. I felt ashamed of what I was doing because I knew it wasn't healthy for me. I became addicted to the numbers on the scale, and felt like every pound I lost was a small victory for me. I received a major wake up call when I fractured my foot and had to stop skating and dancing for 6-8 weeks. I felt as though it was my body telling me I needed to make a change. Recovery was challenging, but I knew I had to start addressing my body's needs while also taking care of my mind. I practiced intuitive eating and building a healthy relationship with food. Food is made to fuel me, not hurt me. I started incorporating self care practices such as yoga, meditating, mindful journaling, and nature walks into my every day routine. Five years after my eating disorder recovery, I became employed as an eating disorder counselor. After working with adolescent women who willingly entered the eating disorder recovery program, I wish I could go back and tell my younger self that it was okay to seek help. I plan on using my experience to reduce stigma and provide support for others struggling with eating disorders by sharing my story and hoping it will reach someone who may be afraid to find help. My eating disordered past will always be a part of me, but I hope to one day work as a registered nurse in either research or an inpatient psychiatric facility specializing in eating disorders.

Tattooing my Recovery I got my first tattoo in the same spot they took my blood at the hospital. My spider rests on my skin guarding the spot where the IVs, wires, and needles would connect. Next to it lies a swooping half heart, the National Eating Disorders Association symbol. This tattoo was a long time coming. Recovering from anorexia has been a half-decade-long path so far, and while I’ve worked my way to physical and mental health, I’ll still carry my experiences with me forever. Some nights all I do is stare at the ceiling wondering if my heart rate will slow too much if I sleep. My mind wanders as I count heartbeats, and I remember the nights in the hospital beds, then those after late rides back home from treatment centers. After that, I recall the late-night study sessions as I sprinted to catch up on missed school. Long nights were a staple of my recovery process (If nothing else, my experience did give me the ability to put in crazy overtime). I climbed mountains of mental and physical work to achieve the health I have now. I'm happy for the work, although I wasn't always, because I've realized how many new opportunities recovering brings. My second tattoo is a kitten sleeping on my upper arm. Over the past few years, I’ve gotten to know my family’s two wonderful cats. When we adopted them I was a year into recovery. Every time Yuri (the younger furball) cuddles on my chest, he reminds me how much in life I would've missed if anorexia had beat me. I would never have met the cats, tried skateboarding, nor learned how to knit. I wouldn't have graduated high school, gotten into college, nor started work in a lab to start my dream career. I would never have met some of the people who became my closest friends. So all in all, it's a pretty good thing I didn't die! Instead, I'm recovering. loudly recovering too. My tattoos have been the opener for many conversations about NEDA, eating disorders, and how to help people recover. The artists warned me when I got my tattoos that people would ask, but to me, the questions are a beautiful opportunity. I hope people will ask. I hope someone suffering may recognize the symbol and reach out for support. I wish that people will be open to information, open to clearing away misconceptions the public has about eating disorders. In short, I want people to survive like I have. Misconceptions about anorexia and recovery hurt all sufferers and survivors. People dismiss me because I ate something in front of them, or because I'm not stick-thin, or because I'm a man. They'll dismiss my friend for her darker skin, or someone else I met in treatment because she doesn't purge. We all heard the dismissals and internalized them. I didn't seek treatment for years thinking I couldn't have an eating disorder. So much misinformation is out there stopping people from seeking help. One conversation about a tattoo at a time, I hope to reach more people who are still drowning in their own misconceptions. Through extatically loud openness about this stigmatized illness, we can all become more healthy. I've thrived through being open about my hard work and the rewards I reaped by surviving anorexia, and through helping others do the same.